A Happy Man

When these graven lines you see,
Traveller, do not pity me;
Though I be among the dead,
Let no mournful word be said.

Children that I leave behind,
And their children, all were kind;
Near to them and to my wife,
I was happy all my life.

My three sons I married right,
And their sons I rocked at night;
Death nor sorrow never brought
Cause for one unhappy thought.

Now, and with no need of tears,
Here they leave me, full of years, -
Leave me to my quiet rest
In the region of the blest.

- Edwin Arlington Robinson

Beloved thro’ all my good, thro’ all mine ill

Lord, grant me grace to love Thee in my pain.
Thro’ all my disappointment love Thee still,
Thy love my strong foundation and my hill,
Tho’ I be such as cometh not again
A fading leaf, a spark upon the wane:
So evermore do Thou Thy perfect Will
Beloved thro’ all my good, thro’ all mine ill,
Beloved tho’ all my love beside be vain.
If thus I love Thee, how wilt Thou love me,
Thou who art greater than my heart? (Amen)
Will Thou bestow a part, withold a part?
The longing of my heart cries out to Thee,
The hungering, thirsting, longing of my heart:
What I forewent, wilt Thou not grant me then?

- Christina Rossetti

Her passion

Who does not hope, to know and understand her strangest passion!
Where she grips at all labours, and always the heaviest plight,
When at once she grasps, all pleasures and the daintiest delight,
Who has the sense, to belong and grow in her fittest portion!

His acceptance

Acceptance once as forlorn as a cloud,
I sought - and sought - but little won.
Silence once it found me as a crowd,
Brought in the bliss of a single companion.

Blues are no excuse

Born and bent man for blues,
A blue moon's melancholy's no excuse;
Favours divine to muse,
A delightful darling be to amuse.

Little one

Giving and making,
Too little in the beginning.
A little bit of cute,
Far too little certain lovefruit.

It is creepy to play with souls

It is creepy to play with souls,
Not to keep another bedrolls:

Has life been deep, or else knee-deep?
When one has that last sleep
When one has leap of breath
Which is more freeing, life or death?

Two lonely men

There are two lonely men alone
Ride their journey each on his own
In misguided pride one derides
In the threaded truth one resides

Why must I be alone, one pries
I do not walk alone, one sighs
These are the paths of two earth-men
Still and all both are lonely men

She is a self-lover

Self-lover, is she aware!
Bent at every angle
No lament at being brittle
Mirrors sets she up everywhere!

I had no time to hate

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I,
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love; but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.

-Emily Dickinson, Life

Of whom I am afraid?

Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?
Not death; for who is he?
The porter of my father's lodge,
As much abasheth me.

Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing,
That comprehendeth me,
In one or more existences,
At Deity's decree.

Of resurrection? Is the east,
Afraid to trust the morn,
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my crown!

-Emily Dickinson, Time and Eternity

A prayer

May wholly our prayers exclaim:
most holy be Thy name.
Labour as Thou to us fulfill,
anchor be in our ill.

Is it well with the child?

Scarlet sleeping room free to roam and bloom
Home before the world's doom
Well away from being beguiled and trialled
Is it well with the child?