7
The feet of
people walking home
With gayer
sandals go—
The Crocus—
till she rises
The Vassal
of the snow—
The lips at
Hallelujah
Long years
of practise bore
Till bye
and bye these Bargemen
Walked
singing on the shore.
Pearls are
the Diver's farthings
Extorted
from the Sea—
Pinions—
the Seraph's wagon
Pedestrian
once— as we—
Night is
the morning's Canvas
Larceny—
legacy—
Death, but
our rapt attention
To
Immortality.
My figures
fail to tell me
How far the
Village lies—
Whose
peasants are the Angels—
Whose
Cantons dot the skies—
My Classics
veil their faces—
My faith
that Dark adores—
Which from
its solemn abbeys
Such
resurrection pours.
254
“Hope” is
the thing with feathers -
That
perches in the soul -
And sings
the tune without the words -
And never
stops - at all -
And
sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore
must be the storm -
That could
abash the little Bird -
That kept
so many warm -
I've heard
it in the chillest land -
And on the
strangest Sea -
Yet, never,
in Extremity,
It asked a
crumb - of Me.
271
A solemn
thing—it was—I said—
A Woman—white—to
be—
And wear—if
God should count me fit—
Her
blameless mystery—
A hallowed
thing—to drop a life
Into the mystic
well—
Too
plummetless—that it come back—
Eternity—until—
I pondered
how the bliss would look—
And would
it feel as big—
When I
could take it in my hand—
As
hovering—seen—through fog—
And
then—the size of this "small" life—
The
Sages—call it small—
Swelled—like
Horizons—in my breast—
And I
sneered—softly—"small"!
279
Tie the
Strings to my Life, My Lord,
Then, I am
ready to go!
Just a look
at the Horses -
Rapid! That
will do!
Put me in
on the firmest side -
So I shall
never fall -
For we must
ride to the Judgment -
And it's
partly, down Hill -
But never I
mind the steepest -
And never I
mind the Sea -
Held fast
in Everlasting Race -
By my own
Choice, and Thee -
Goodbye to
the Life I used to live -
And the
World I used to know -
And kiss
the Hills, for me, just once -
Then - I am
ready to go!
315
He fumbles
at your Soul
As Players
at the Keys -
Before they
drop full Music on -
He stuns
you by degrees -
Prepares
your brittle substance
For the
etherial Blow
By fainter
Hammers - further heard -
Then nearer
- then so - slow -
Your Breath
- has chance to straighten -
Your Brain
- to bubble Cool -
Deals One –
imperial Thunderbolt -
That peels
your naked Soul -
When Winds holds
Forests in their Paws -
The
Firmaments - are still –
321
Of all the
Sounds despatched abroad-
There's not
a Charge to me
Like that
old measure in the Boughs
That
Phraseless Melody-
The Wind
does- working like a Hand -
Whose
fingers brush the sky-
Then quiver
down, with Tufts of Tune-
Permitted
Men-and Me-
lnheritance
it is -to Us
Beyond the
Art to Earn-
Beyond the
trait to take away-
By Robber -
Since the Gain
Is gotten
not of fingers,
And inner
than the Bone-
Hid golden-
for the whole of days-
And even in
the Urn-
I cannot
vouch the merry Dust
Do not
arise and play-
In some odd
fashion of it's own-
Some
quainter Holiday.
When Winds
go round and round, in Bands-
And thrum
upon the Door-
And Birds
take places- Overhead -
To bear
them Orchestra-
I crave him
Grace- of Summer Boughs-
lf such an
Outcast be-
Who never
heard that fleshless Chant
Rise solemn,
in the Tree-
As if some
Caravan of Sound-
On Deserts,
in the Sky-
Had broken
Rank-
Then knit -and
passed -
In Seamless
Company-
327
Before I
got my eye put out -
I liked as
well to see
As other
creatures, that have eyes -
And know no
other way -
But were it
told to me - Today -
That I
might have the Sky
For mine -
I tell you that my Heart
Would
split, for size of me -
The Meadows
- mine -
The
Mountains- mine -
All Forests
- Stintless Stars -
As much of
Noon as I could take
Between my
finite eyes -
The Motions
of the Dipping Birds -
The
Morning's Amber Road -
For mine -
to look at when I liked -
The News
would strike me dead -
So safer -
guess - with just my soul
Upon the
window pane
Where other
creatures put their eyes -
Incautious
- of the Sun –
341
After great
pain, a formal feeling comes -
The Nerves
sit ceremonious, like Tombs -
The stiff
Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And
Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet,
mechanical, go round -
Of Ground,
or Air, or Ought -
A Wooden
way
Regardless
grown,
A Quartz
contentment, like a stone -
This is the
Hour of Lead -
Remembered,
if outlived,
As Freezing
persons, recollect the Snow -
First -
Chill - then Stupor - then the letting go -
352
Perhaps I
asked too large -
I take - no
less than skies -
For Earths,
grow thick as
Berries, in
my native town -
My Basked
holds - just - Firmaments --
Those -
dangle easy - on my arm,
But smaller
bundles - Cram.
353
A happy lip
— breaks sudden —
It doesn't
state you how
It contemplated
— smiling —
Just
consummated — now —
But this
one, wears its merriment
So patient
— like a pain —
Fresh
gilded — to elude the eyes
Unqualified,
to scan —
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