the prowling Bee

These are the days when Birds come back— A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume T...

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a "Diver.” Her brow is fit for thrones – But I had not a crest. Her heart is fit for home—...

As Watchers hang upon the East - As Beggars revel at a feast By savory fancy spread— As Brooks in Deserts babble sweet On Ear too far for t...

If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury – me, in such a shroud of red! If this is “sleep,” On su...

Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of "Potosi," and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines! Ca...

Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning— Here a star, and there a star...

Ambition cannot find him – Affection doesn't know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now. Yesterday, undistinguished! Eminent...

Where bells no more affright the morn— Where scrabble never comes— Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to keep their rooms— Wh...

"Arcturus" is his other name –  I'd rather call him "Star”! It's very mean of Science To go and interfere! ...

The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially— The Brooks laugh louder when I com...

Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purpl...

Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year! For the Easel here Say Repose!                  ...

So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious e...

For each extatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the extasy – For each beloved hour Sharp pittanc...

In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament— Whose Sandals touch the town— Meek at wh...

Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.                                                ...

Glowing is her Bonnet – Glowing is her Cheek – Glowing is her Kirtle – Yet she cannot speak. Better as the Daisy From the Summe...

A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated "Death"— An anguish at the mention ...

A something in a summer's Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer's noon— A depth...

My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist! How martial is this place! Ha...