famous poem

all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
up from the meadows rich with corn
if the red slayer think he slays
there by the window in the old house
as a white candle
burly, dozing humble-bee
my sorrow, when she's here with me
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
the agony of having too much power
let us express our baser passions
the little white prayers
there are three ways in which men take
if i were very sure
no prey am i of poor thoughts