I've heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me.
Why do we have grey skies? Is it just for rainbows?
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much;
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
First story shared
Fills me with remembrance and determination
First warrior met
Fills me with compassion
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
They are dancing
Swaying to the music
Little bejeweled bird
On a Sunday
you were a gift from Him
I clasped you to remember that everything would be fine
you were still near
the earth still spins like your hyperactive wings.
Than Oars divide the Ocean, Too silver for a seam, Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon, Leap, plashless as they swim.
You have made a wide path for my feet
to keep them from slipping.