And slight, withal, may be the things which bring
Back on the heart the weight which it would fling
Aside for ever;âit may be a soundâ
A tone of musicâsummer's breath, or springâ
A flowerâa leafâthe oceanâwhich may woundâ
Striking th' electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound. ~Childe Harold.

"Each morning I pass on my way to work"

© Lesbia Harford

Each morning I pass on my way to work
A clock in a tower
And I look towards it with anxious eyes
To make sure of the hour.

To A Black Gin.

© James Brunton Stephens

DAUGHTER of Eve, draw near I would behold thee.

Good Heavens! Could ever arm of man enfold thee?

The Complaint and the Consolation.

© Mather Byles

I.
Where shall I find my Lord, my Love,
The Sov'reign of my Soul?
Pensive from East to West I rove,
And range from Pole to Pole.

What Are Cities For?

© Robinson Jeffers

The earth has covered Sicilian Syracuse, there asphodel grows,

As golden-rod will over New York.

The School

© John Crowe Ransom

I WAS not drowsy though the scholars droned.

Hearing the music that they made of Greek,

Monotonous Variety

© Franklin Pierce Adams

She "greeted" and he "volunteered";
She "giggled"; he "asserted";
She "queried" and he "lightly veered";
She "drawled" and he "averted";
She "scoffed," she "laughed" and he "averred";
He "mumbled," "parried," and "demurred."

Grey

Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?

The Bell-Founder Part II - Triumph And Reward

In the furnace the dry branches crackle, the crucible shines as with
gold,
As they carry the hot flaming metal in haste from the fire to the mould;
Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape,

My Little Boy That Died

Look at his pretty face for just one minute !
His braided frock and dainty buttoned shoes,
His firm-shut hand, the favorite plaything in it,
Then, tell me, mothers, was it not hard to lose
And miss him from my side,
My little boy that died?