Come Slowly
Come slowly, Eden
Lips unused to thee.
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Shall I Compare Thee, (Sonnet XVIII)
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
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To Earthward
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
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One Day I Wrote Her Name
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
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Brown Penny
I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
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Hope is a Thing With Feathers
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
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The Spring and the Fall
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
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Proud of my Broken Heart
Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it.
Proud of the pain, I did not feel ‘till thee.
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know;
His house is in the village, though.
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The Rose of Sharon
I am the rose of Sharon,
and the lily of the valleys.
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