I am very busy picking up stems and stamens as the hollyhocks leave their clothes around.
I've got a Tomahawk in my side but that don't hurt me much.
Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too — And angels know the rest.
An ill heart, like a body, has its more comfortable days, and then its days of pain, its long relapse, when rallying requires more effort than to dissolve life, and death looks choiceless.
If I shouldn't be alive When the robins come, Give the one in red cravat A memorial crumb. If I couldn't thank you, Being just asleep, You will know I'm trying With my granite lip!