Genoeg steun voor de VrijMiBo
The Props assist the House
Until the House is built
And then the Props withdraw
And adequate, erect,
The House support itself
And cease to recollect
The Augur and the Carpenter –
Just such a retrospect
Hath the perfected Life –
A Past of Plank and Nail
And slowness – then the scaffolds drop
Affirming it a Soul –
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
VrijMiBo, maar hou het netjes
Delight is as the flight—
Or in the Ratio of it,
As the Schools would say—
The Rainbow's way—
A Skein
Flung colored, after Rain,
Would suit as bright,
Except that flight
Were Aliment—
"If it would last"
I asked the East,
When that Bent Stripe
Struck up my childish
Firmament—
And I, for glee,
Took Rainbows, as the common way,
And empty Skies
The Eccentricity—
And so with Lives—
And so with Butterflies—
Seen magic—through the fright
That they will cheat the sight—
And Dower latitudes far on—
Some sudden morn—
Our portion— in the fashion—
Done –
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
Met Honderd Door De VrijMiBo
After a hundred years
Nobody knows the place,--
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.
Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way,--
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
Nobele VrijMiBo
Het is weekend. Meedoen is belangrijker dan winnen, maar als je niet meedoet kun je ook niet winnen.
There is a Shame of Nobleness —
Confronting Sudden Pelf —
A finer Shame of Ecstasy —
Convicted of Itself —
A best Disgrace — a Brave Man feels —
Acknowledged — of the Brave —
One More — "Ye Blessed" — to be told —
But that's — Behind the Grave —
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
Hou je bek en VrijMiBo
He put the Belt around my life
I heard the Buckle snap —
And turned away, imperial,
My Lifetime folding up —
Deliberate, as a Duke would do
A Kingdom's Title Deed —
Henceforth, a Dedicated sort —
A Member of the Cloud.
Yet not too far to come at call —
And do the little Toils
That make the Circuit of the Rest —
And deal occasional smiles
To lives that stoop to notice mine —
And kindly ask it in —
Whose invitation, know you not
For Whom I must decline?
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
VrijMiBo met paarse tong
I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching
Next to mine,
And summon them to drink;
Crackling with fever, they Essay,
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.
The hands still hug the tardy glass—
The lips I would have cooled, alas—
Are so superfluous Cold—
I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould—
Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak—
And so I always bear the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake—
If, haply, any say to me
"Unto the little, unto me,"
When I at last awake.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
Paarse VrijMiBo
Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,
Leaping like leopards to the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face, to die;
Stooping as low as the kitchen window,
Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
Kissing her bonnet to the meadow,—
And the juggler of day is gone!
Prettig weekend. En be nice.