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Ririro.com - Poetry — 276 episodes · page 1 of 3
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
A cap of lead across the sky
A Burdock—clawed my Gown
A Bee his burnished Carriage
Real
The Hemlock
Beclouded
Psalm of the Day
A little road not made of man
The Grass
Summer’s Armies
The pedigree of honey
New feet within my garden go
Apotheosis
The Outlet
Transplanted
Alter? When the hills do
I taste a liquor never brewed
I never lost as much but twice
I shall know why when time is over
Death is a dialogue between
I reason, earth is short
The Funeral
Two Worlds
So bashful when I spied her
The bee is not afraid of me
A Service of Song
Why?
Renunciation
The brain within its groove
Unreturning
I had no time to hate, because
A Book
The Secret
Sleep is supposed to be
If I shouldn’t be alive
Emancipation
To know just how he suffered
From the Chrysalis
Safe in their alabaster chambers
Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower
Apocalypse
Resurrection
Love’s Baptism
In Vain
With a Flower
If you were coming in the fall
Surrender
Suspense
Mine
The Mystery of Pain
The Book of Martyrs
To fight aloud is very brave
The Lonely House
Along the Potomac
It was too late for man
Presentiment is that long shadow
The Wife
Proof
Bequest
Belshazzar had a letter
Whether my bark went down at sea
Dawn
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman (1487)
A brief, but patient illness –
A charm invests a face
A chilly Peace infests the Grass
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s
A Cloud withdrew from the Sky
A Coffin — is a small Domain,
A Counterfeit — a Plated Person —
A curious Cloud surprised the Sky,
Above Oblivion’s Tide there is a Pier
Abraham to kill him—
Absence disembodies—so does Death
Absent Place—an April Day
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
A Death blow is a Life blow to Some
A Deed knocks first at Thought
A Dew sufficed itself—
A Diamond on the Hand
A Dimple in the Tomb
A Door just opened on a street
A doubt if it be Us
Adrift! A little boat adrift!
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork
Advance is Life’s condition
A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink
A face devoid of love or grace
A faded Boy—in sallow Clothes
A feather from the Whippoorwill
A Field of Stubble, lying sere
A first Mute Coming
A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot
After a hundred years
After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside—
After great pain, a formal feeling comes
After the Sun comes out
A full fed Rose on meals of Tint