Going to Heaven! by Emily Dickinson
Going to Heaven!
I dont know when – –
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed Im too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven!
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the Shepherds arm!
Perhaps youre going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little space for me
Close to the two I lost – –
The smallest “Robe” will fit me
And just a bit of “Crown” – –
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home – –
Im glad I dont believe it
For it would stop my breath – –
And Id like to look a little more
At such a curious Earth!
Im glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the might Autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.
Loves Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle – Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea – What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my hearts ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet heres eglantine,
Here s ivy!-take them, as I used to do
Thy fowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.
Young and Old by Charles Kingsley
When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green,
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away,
Young blood must hanve its course, lad,
And every dog his day
When all the world is old, lad,
And the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down,
Creep home, and take your place here,
The speen and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young
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