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diff --git a/old/12242-8.txt b/old/12242-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fbf52a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12242-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10739 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems: Three Series, Complete + +Author: Emily Dickinson + +Release Date: May 3, 2004 [EBook #12242] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE. + +The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson +long since called "the Poetry of the Portfolio,"--something produced +absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of +expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably +forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism +and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it +may often gain something through the habit of freedom and the +unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the +present author, there was absolutely no choice in the matter; she +must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, +literally spending years without setting her foot beyond the +doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly +limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, +like her person, from all but a very few friends; and it was with +great difficulty that she was persuaded to print, during her +lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great +abundance; and though brought curiously indifferent to all +conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, +and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own +tenacious fastidiousness. + +Miss Dickinson was born in Amherst, Mass., Dec. 10, 1830, and died +there May 15, 1886. Her father, Hon. Edward Dickinson, was the +leading lawyer of Amherst, and was treasurer of the well-known +college there situated. It was his custom once a year to hold a large +reception at his house, attended by all the families connected with +the institution and by the leading people of the town. On these +occasions his daughter Emily emerged from her wonted retirement and +did her part as gracious hostess; nor would any one have known from +her manner, I have been told, that this was not a daily occurrence. +The annual occasion once past, she withdrew again into her seclusion, +and except for a very few friends was as invisible to the world as if +she had dwelt in a nunnery. For myself, although I had corresponded +with her for many years, I saw her but twice face to face, and +brought away the impression of something as unique and remote as +Undine or Mignon or Thekla. + +This selection from her poems is published to meet the desire of her +personal friends, and especially of her surviving sister. It is +believed that the thoughtful reader will find in these pages a +quality more suggestive of the poetry of William Blake than of +anything to be elsewhere found,--flashes of wholly original and +profound insight into nature and life; words and phrases exhibiting +an extraordinary vividness of descriptive and imaginative power, yet +often set in a seemingly whimsical or even rugged frame. They are +here published as they were written, with very few and superficial +changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been +assigned, almost invariably, by the editors. In many cases these +verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with +rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and +a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed. In other cases, as in the +few poems of shipwreck or of mental conflict, we can only wonder at +the gift of vivid imagination by which this recluse woman can +delineate, by a few touches, the very crises of physical or mental +struggle. And sometimes again we catch glimpses of a lyric strain, +sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the +reader regret its sudden cessation. But the main quality of these +poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an +uneven vigor sometimes exasperating, seemingly wayward, but really +unsought and inevitable. After all, when a thought takes one's +breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence. As Ruskin +wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty +of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought." + + ---Thomas Wentworth Higginson + + + + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + +As is well documented, Emily Dickinson's poems were edited in these +early editions by her friends, better to fit the conventions of the +times. In particular, her dashes, often small enough to appear +as dots, became commas and semi-colons. + +In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her +handwritten poem which her editors titled "Renunciation" is given, +and I here transcribe that manuscript as faithfully as I can, +showing _underlined_ words thus. + + +There came a day - at Summer's full - +Entirely for me - +I thought that such were for the Saints - +Where Resurrections - be - + +The sun - as common - went abroad - +The flowers - accustomed - blew, +As if no soul - that solstice passed - +Which maketh all things - new - + +The time was scarce profaned - by speech - +The falling of a word +Was needless - as at Sacrament - +The _Wardrobe_ - of our Lord! + +Each was to each - the sealed church - +Permitted to commune - _this_ time - +Lest we too awkward show +At Supper of "the Lamb." + +The hours slid fast - as hours will - +Clutched tight - by greedy hands - +So - faces on two Decks look back - +Bound to _opposing_ lands. + +And so, when all the time had leaked, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's Crucifix - +We gave no other bond - + +Sufficient troth - that we shall _rise_, +Deposed - at length the Grave - +To that new marriage - +_Justified_ - through Calvaries - of Love! + + +From the handwriting, it is not always clear which are dashes, +which are commas and which are periods, nor it is entirely +clear which initial letters are capitalized. + +However, this transcription may be compared with the edited +version in the main text to get a flavor of the changes made +in these early editions. + + ---JT + + + + + + + + + + + This is my letter to the world, + That never wrote to me, -- + The simple news that Nature told, + With tender majesty. + + Her message is committed + To hands I cannot see; + For love of her, sweet countrymen, + Judge tenderly of me! + + + + + + + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +SUCCESS. + +[Published in "A Masque of Poets" +at the request of "H.H.," the author's +fellow-townswoman and friend.] + +Success is counted sweetest +By those who ne'er succeed. +To comprehend a nectar +Requires sorest need. + +Not one of all the purple host +Who took the flag to-day +Can tell the definition, +So clear, of victory, + +As he, defeated, dying, +On whose forbidden ear +The distant strains of triumph +Break, agonized and clear! + + + + + +II. + +Our share of night to bear, +Our share of morning, +Our blank in bliss to fill, +Our blank in scorning. + +Here a star, and there a star, +Some lose their way. +Here a mist, and there a mist, +Afterwards -- day! + + + + + +III. + +ROUGE ET NOIR. + +Soul, wilt thou toss again? +By just such a hazard +Hundreds have lost, indeed, +But tens have won an all. + +Angels' breathless ballot +Lingers to record thee; +Imps in eager caucus +Raffle for my soul. + + + + + +IV. + +ROUGE GAGNE. + +'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy! +If I should fail, what poverty! +And yet, as poor as I +Have ventured all upon a throw; +Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so +This side the victory! + +Life is but life, and death but death! +Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath! +And if, indeed, I fail, +At least to know the worst is sweet. +Defeat means nothing but defeat, +No drearier can prevail! + +And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea, +Oh, bells that in the steeples be, +At first repeat it slow! +For heaven is a different thing +Conjectured, and waked sudden in, +And might o'erwhelm me so! + + + + + +V. + +Glee! The great storm is over! +Four have recovered the land; +Forty gone down together +Into the boiling sand. + +Ring, for the scant salvation! +Toll, for the bonnie souls, -- +Neighbor and friend and bridegroom, +Spinning upon the shoals! + +How they will tell the shipwreck +When winter shakes the door, +Till the children ask, "But the forty? +Did they come back no more?" + +Then a silence suffuses the story, +And a softness the teller's eye; +And the children no further question, +And only the waves reply. + + + + + +VI. + +If I can stop one heart from breaking, +I shall not live in vain; +If I can ease one life the aching, +Or cool one pain, +Or help one fainting robin +Unto his nest again, +I shall not live in vain. + + + + + +VII. + +ALMOST! + +Within my reach! +I could have touched! +I might have chanced that way! +Soft sauntered through the village, +Sauntered as soft away! +So unsuspected violets +Within the fields lie low, +Too late for striving fingers +That passed, an hour ago. + + + + + +VIII. + +A wounded deer leaps highest, +I've heard the hunter tell; +'T is but the ecstasy of death, +And then the brake is still. + +The smitten rock that gushes, +The trampled steel that springs; +A cheek is always redder +Just where the hectic stings! + +Mirth is the mail of anguish, +In which it cautions arm, +Lest anybody spy the blood +And "You're hurt" exclaim! + + + + + +IX. + +The heart asks pleasure first, +And then, excuse from pain; +And then, those little anodynes +That deaden suffering; + +And then, to go to sleep; +And then, if it should be +The will of its Inquisitor, +The liberty to die. + + + + + +X. + +IN A LIBRARY. + +A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is +To meet an antique book, +In just the dress his century wore; +A privilege, I think, + +His venerable hand to take, +And warming in our own, +A passage back, or two, to make +To times when he was young. + +His quaint opinions to inspect, +His knowledge to unfold +On what concerns our mutual mind, +The literature of old; + +What interested scholars most, +What competitions ran +When Plato was a certainty. +And Sophocles a man; + +When Sappho was a living girl, +And Beatrice wore +The gown that Dante deified. +Facts, centuries before, + +He traverses familiar, +As one should come to town +And tell you all your dreams were true; +He lived where dreams were sown. + +His presence is enchantment, +You beg him not to go; +Old volumes shake their vellum heads +And tantalize, just so. + + + + + +XI. + +Much madness is divinest sense +To a discerning eye; +Much sense the starkest madness. +'T is the majority +In this, as all, prevails. +Assent, and you are sane; +Demur, -- you're straightway dangerous, +And handled with a chain. +XII. + +I asked no other thing, +No other was denied. +I offered Being for it; +The mighty merchant smiled. + +Brazil? He twirled a button, +Without a glance my way: +"But, madam, is there nothing else +That we can show to-day?" + + + + + +XIII. + +EXCLUSION. + +The soul selects her own society, +Then shuts the door; +On her divine majority +Obtrude no more. + +Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing +At her low gate; +Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling +Upon her mat. + +I've known her from an ample nation +Choose one; +Then close the valves of her attention +Like stone. + + + + + +XIV. + +THE SECRET. + +Some things that fly there be, -- +Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: +Of these no elegy. + +Some things that stay there be, -- +Grief, hills, eternity: +Nor this behooveth me. + +There are, that resting, rise. +Can I expound the skies? +How still the riddle lies! + + + + + +XV. + +THE LONELY HOUSE. + +I know some lonely houses off the road +A robber 'd like the look of, -- +Wooden barred, +And windows hanging low, +Inviting to +A portico, +Where two could creep: +One hand the tools, +The other peep +To make sure all's asleep. +Old-fashioned eyes, +Not easy to surprise! + +How orderly the kitchen 'd look by night, +With just a clock, -- +But they could gag the tick, +And mice won't bark; +And so the walls don't tell, +None will. + +A pair of spectacles ajar just stir -- +An almanac's aware. +Was it the mat winked, +Or a nervous star? +The moon slides down the stair +To see who's there. + +There's plunder, -- where? +Tankard, or spoon, +Earring, or stone, +A watch, some ancient brooch +To match the grandmamma, +Staid sleeping there. + +Day rattles, too, +Stealth's slow; +The sun has got as far +As the third sycamore. +Screams chanticleer, +"Who's there?" +And echoes, trains away, +Sneer -- "Where?" +While the old couple, just astir, +Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar! + + + + + +XVI. + +To fight aloud is very brave, +But gallanter, I know, +Who charge within the bosom, +The cavalry of woe. + +Who win, and nations do not see, +Who fall, and none observe, +Whose dying eyes no country +Regards with patriot love. + +We trust, in plumed procession, +For such the angels go, +Rank after rank, with even feet +And uniforms of snow. + + + + + +XVII. + +DAWN. + +When night is almost done, +And sunrise grows so near +That we can touch the spaces, +It 's time to smooth the hair + +And get the dimples ready, +And wonder we could care +For that old faded midnight +That frightened but an hour. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE BOOK OF MARTYRS. + +Read, sweet, how others strove, +Till we are stouter; +What they renounced, +Till we are less afraid; +How many times they bore +The faithful witness, +Till we are helped, +As if a kingdom cared! + +Read then of faith +That shone above the fagot; +Clear strains of hymn +The river could not drown; +Brave names of men +And celestial women, +Passed out of record +Into renown! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MYSTERY OF PAIN. + +Pain has an element of blank; +It cannot recollect +When it began, or if there were +A day when it was not. + +It has no future but itself, +Its infinite realms contain +Its past, enlightened to perceive +New periods of pain. + + + + + +XX. + +I taste a liquor never brewed, +From tankards scooped in pearl; +Not all the vats upon the Rhine +Yield such an alcohol! + +Inebriate of air am I, +And debauchee of dew, +Reeling, through endless summer days, +From inns of molten blue. + +When landlords turn the drunken bee +Out of the foxglove's door, +When butterflies renounce their drams, +I shall but drink the more! + +Till seraphs swing their snowy hats, +And saints to windows run, +To see the little tippler +Leaning against the sun! + + + + + +XXI. + +A BOOK. + +He ate and drank the precious words, +His spirit grew robust; +He knew no more that he was poor, +Nor that his frame was dust. +He danced along the dingy days, +And this bequest of wings +Was but a book. What liberty +A loosened spirit brings! + + + + + +XXII. + +I had no time to hate, because +The grave would hinder me, +And life was not so ample I +Could finish enmity. + +Nor had I time to love; but since +Some industry must be, +The little toil of love, I thought, +Was large enough for me. + + + + + +XXIII. + +UNRETURNING. + +'T was such a little, little boat +That toddled down the bay! +'T was such a gallant, gallant sea +That beckoned it away! + +'T was such a greedy, greedy wave +That licked it from the coast; +Nor ever guessed the stately sails +My little craft was lost! + + + + + +XXIV. + +Whether my bark went down at sea, +Whether she met with gales, +Whether to isles enchanted +She bent her docile sails; + +By what mystic mooring +She is held to-day, -- +This is the errand of the eye +Out upon the bay. + + + + + +XXV. + +Belshazzar had a letter, -- +He never had but one; +Belshazzar's correspondent +Concluded and begun +In that immortal copy +The conscience of us all +Can read without its glasses +On revelation's wall. + + + + + +XXVI. + +The brain within its groove +Runs evenly and true; +But let a splinter swerve, +'T were easier for you +To put the water back +When floods have slit the hills, +And scooped a turnpike for themselves, +And blotted out the mills! + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +MINE. + +Mine by the right of the white election! +Mine by the royal seal! +Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison +Bars cannot conceal! + +Mine, here in vision and in veto! +Mine, by the grave's repeal +Titled, confirmed, -- delirious charter! +Mine, while the ages steal! + + + + + +II. + +BEQUEST. + +You left me, sweet, two legacies, -- +A legacy of love +A Heavenly Father would content, +Had He the offer of; + +You left me boundaries of pain +Capacious as the sea, +Between eternity and time, +Your consciousness and me. + + + + + +III. + +Alter? When the hills do. +Falter? When the sun +Question if his glory +Be the perfect one. + +Surfeit? When the daffodil +Doth of the dew: +Even as herself, O friend! +I will of you! + + + + + +IV. + +SUSPENSE. + +Elysium is as far as to +The very nearest room, +If in that room a friend await +Felicity or doom. + +What fortitude the soul contains, +That it can so endure +The accent of a coming foot, +The opening of a door! + + + + + +V. + +SURRENDER. + +Doubt me, my dim companion! +Why, God would be content +With but a fraction of the love +Poured thee without a stint. +The whole of me, forever, +What more the woman can, -- +Say quick, that I may dower thee +With last delight I own! + +It cannot be my spirit, +For that was thine before; +I ceded all of dust I knew, -- +What opulence the more +Had I, a humble maiden, +Whose farthest of degree +Was that she might, +Some distant heaven, +Dwell timidly with thee! + + + + + +VI. + +If you were coming in the fall, +I'd brush the summer by +With half a smile and half a spurn, +As housewives do a fly. + +If I could see you in a year, +I'd wind the months in balls, +And put them each in separate drawers, +Until their time befalls. + +If only centuries delayed, +I'd count them on my hand, +Subtracting till my fingers dropped +Into Van Diemen's land. + +If certain, when this life was out, +That yours and mine should be, +I'd toss it yonder like a rind, +And taste eternity. + +But now, all ignorant of the length +Of time's uncertain wing, +It goads me, like the goblin bee, +That will not state its sting. + + + + + +VII. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That wearing on your breast, +You, unsuspecting, wear me too -- +And angels know the rest. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That, fading from your vase, +You, unsuspecting, feel for me +Almost a loneliness. + + + + + +VIII. + +PROOF. + +That I did always love, +I bring thee proof: +That till I loved +I did not love enough. + +That I shall love alway, +I offer thee +That love is life, +And life hath immortality. + +This, dost thou doubt, sweet? +Then have I +Nothing to show +But Calvary. + + + + + +IX. + +Have you got a brook in your little heart, +Where bashful flowers blow, +And blushing birds go down to drink, +And shadows tremble so? + +And nobody knows, so still it flows, +That any brook is there; +And yet your little draught of life +Is daily drunken there. + +Then look out for the little brook in March, +When the rivers overflow, +And the snows come hurrying from the hills, +And the bridges often go. + +And later, in August it may be, +When the meadows parching lie, +Beware, lest this little brook of life +Some burning noon go dry! + + + + + +X. + +TRANSPLANTED. + +As if some little Arctic flower, +Upon the polar hem, +Went wandering down the latitudes, +Until it puzzled came +To continents of summer, +To firmaments of sun, +To strange, bright crowds of flowers, +And birds of foreign tongue! +I say, as if this little flower +To Eden wandered in -- +What then? Why, nothing, only, +Your inference therefrom! + + + + + +XI. + +THE OUTLET. + +My river runs to thee: +Blue sea, wilt welcome me? + +My river waits reply. +Oh sea, look graciously! + +I'll fetch thee brooks +From spotted nooks, -- + +Say, sea, +Take me! + + + + + +XII. + +IN VAIN. + +I cannot live with you, +It would be life, +And life is over there +Behind the shelf + +The sexton keeps the key to, +Putting up +Our life, his porcelain, +Like a cup + +Discarded of the housewife, +Quaint or broken; +A newer Sevres pleases, +Old ones crack. + +I could not die with you, +For one must wait +To shut the other's gaze down, -- +You could not. + +And I, could I stand by +And see you freeze, +Without my right of frost, +Death's privilege? + +Nor could I rise with you, +Because your face +Would put out Jesus', +That new grace + +Glow plain and foreign +On my homesick eye, +Except that you, than he +Shone closer by. + +They'd judge us -- how? +For you served Heaven, you know, +Or sought to; +I could not, + +Because you saturated sight, +And I had no more eyes +For sordid excellence +As Paradise. + +And were you lost, I would be, +Though my name +Rang loudest +On the heavenly fame. + +And were you saved, +And I condemned to be +Where you were not, +That self were hell to me. + +So we must keep apart, +You there, I here, +With just the door ajar +That oceans are, +And prayer, +And that pale sustenance, +Despair! + + + + + +XIII. + +RENUNCIATION. + +There came a day at summer's full +Entirely for me; +I thought that such were for the saints, +Where revelations be. + +The sun, as common, went abroad, +The flowers, accustomed, blew, +As if no soul the solstice passed +That maketh all things new. + +The time was scarce profaned by speech; +The symbol of a word +Was needless, as at sacrament +The wardrobe of our Lord. + +Each was to each the sealed church, +Permitted to commune this time, +Lest we too awkward show +At supper of the Lamb. + +The hours slid fast, as hours will, +Clutched tight by greedy hands; +So faces on two decks look back, +Bound to opposing lands. + +And so, when all the time had failed, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's crucifix, +We gave no other bond. + +Sufficient troth that we shall rise -- +Deposed, at length, the grave -- +To that new marriage, justified +Through Calvaries of Love! + + + + + +XIV. + +LOVE'S BAPTISM. + +I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs; +The name they dropped upon my face +With water, in the country church, +Is finished using now, +And they can put it with my dolls, +My childhood, and the string of spools +I've finished threading too. + +Baptized before without the choice, +But this time consciously, of grace +Unto supremest name, +Called to my full, the crescent dropped, +Existence's whole arc filled up +With one small diadem. + +My second rank, too small the first, +Crowned, crowing on my father's breast, +A half unconscious queen; +But this time, adequate, erect, +With will to choose or to reject. +And I choose -- just a throne. + + + + + +XV. + +RESURRECTION. + +'T was a long parting, but the time +For interview had come; +Before the judgment-seat of God, +The last and second time + +These fleshless lovers met, +A heaven in a gaze, +A heaven of heavens, the privilege +Of one another's eyes. + +No lifetime set on them, +Apparelled as the new +Unborn, except they had beheld, +Born everlasting now. + +Was bridal e'er like this? +A paradise, the host, +And cherubim and seraphim +The most familiar guest. + + + + + +XVI. + +APOCALYPSE. + +I'm wife; I've finished that, +That other state; +I'm Czar, I'm woman now: +It's safer so. + +How odd the girl's life looks +Behind this soft eclipse! +I think that earth seems so +To those in heaven now. + +This being comfort, then +That other kind was pain; +But why compare? +I'm wife! stop there! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE WIFE. + +She rose to his requirement, dropped +The playthings of her life +To take the honorable work +Of woman and of wife. + +If aught she missed in her new day +Of amplitude, or awe, +Or first prospective, or the gold +In using wore away, + +It lay unmentioned, as the sea +Develops pearl and weed, +But only to himself is known +The fathoms they abide. + + + + + +XVIII. + +APOTHEOSIS. + +Come slowly, Eden! +Lips unused to thee, +Bashful, sip thy jasmines, +As the fainting bee, + +Reaching late his flower, +Round her chamber hums, +Counts his nectars -- enters, +And is lost in balms! + + + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + +I. + +New feet within my garden go, +New fingers stir the sod; +A troubadour upon the elm +Betrays the solitude. + +New children play upon the green, +New weary sleep below; +And still the pensive spring returns, +And still the punctual snow! + + + + + +II. + +MAY-FLOWER. + +Pink, small, and punctual, +Aromatic, low, +Covert in April, +Candid in May, + +Dear to the moss, +Known by the knoll, +Next to the robin +In every human soul. + +Bold little beauty, +Bedecked with thee, +Nature forswears +Antiquity. + + + + + +III. + +WHY? + +The murmur of a bee +A witchcraft yieldeth me. +If any ask me why, +'T were easier to die +Than tell. + +The red upon the hill +Taketh away my will; +If anybody sneer, +Take care, for God is here, +That's all. + +The breaking of the day +Addeth to my degree; +If any ask me how, +Artist, who drew me so, +Must tell! + + + + + +IV. + +Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower? +But I could never sell. +If you would like to borrow +Until the daffodil + +Unties her yellow bonnet +Beneath the village door, +Until the bees, from clover rows +Their hock and sherry draw, + +Why, I will lend until just then, +But not an hour more! + + + + + +V. + +The pedigree of honey +Does not concern the bee; +A clover, any time, to him +Is aristocracy. + + + + + +VI. + +A SERVICE OF SONG. + +Some keep the Sabbath going to church; +I keep it staying at home, +With a bobolink for a chorister, +And an orchard for a dome. + +Some keep the Sabbath in surplice; +I just wear my wings, +And instead of tolling the bell for church, +Our little sexton sings. + +God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, -- +And the sermon is never long; +So instead of getting to heaven at last, +I'm going all along! + + + + + +VII. + +The bee is not afraid of me, +I know the butterfly; +The pretty people in the woods +Receive me cordially. + +The brooks laugh louder when I come, +The breezes madder play. +Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? +Wherefore, O summer's day? + + + + + +VIII. + +SUMMER'S ARMIES. + +Some rainbow coming from the fair! +Some vision of the world Cashmere +I confidently see! +Or else a peacock's purple train, +Feather by feather, on the plain +Fritters itself away! + +The dreamy butterflies bestir, +Lethargic pools resume the whir +Of last year's sundered tune. +From some old fortress on the sun +Baronial bees march, one by one, +In murmuring platoon! + +The robins stand as thick to-day +As flakes of snow stood yesterday, +On fence and roof and twig. +The orchis binds her feather on +For her old lover, Don the Sun, +Revisiting the bog! + +Without commander, countless, still, +The regiment of wood and hill +In bright detachment stand. +Behold! Whose multitudes are these? +The children of whose turbaned seas, +Or what Circassian land? + + + + + +IX. + +THE GRASS. + +The grass so little has to do, -- +A sphere of simple green, +With only butterflies to brood, +And bees to entertain, + +And stir all day to pretty tunes +The breezes fetch along, +And hold the sunshine in its lap +And bow to everything; + +And thread the dews all night, like pearls, +And make itself so fine, -- +A duchess were too common +For such a noticing. + +And even when it dies, to pass +In odors so divine, +As lowly spices gone to sleep, +Or amulets of pine. + +And then to dwell in sovereign barns, +And dream the days away, -- +The grass so little has to do, +I wish I were the hay! + + + + + +X. + +A little road not made of man, +Enabled of the eye, +Accessible to thill of bee, +Or cart of butterfly. + +If town it have, beyond itself, +'T is that I cannot say; +I only sigh, -- no vehicle +Bears me along that way. + + + + + +XI. + +SUMMER SHOWER. + +A drop fell on the apple tree, +Another on the roof; +A half a dozen kissed the eaves, +And made the gables laugh. + +A few went out to help the brook, +That went to help the sea. +Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, +What necklaces could be! + +The dust replaced in hoisted roads, +The birds jocoser sung; +The sunshine threw his hat away, +The orchards spangles hung. + +The breezes brought dejected lutes, +And bathed them in the glee; +The East put out a single flag, +And signed the fete away. + + + + + +XII. + +PSALM OF THE DAY. + +A something in a summer's day, +As slow her flambeaux burn away, +Which solemnizes me. + +A something in a summer's noon, -- +An azure depth, a wordless tune, +Transcending ecstasy. + +And still within a summer's night +A something so transporting bright, +I clap my hands to see; + +Then veil my too inspecting face, +Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace +Flutter too far for me. + +The wizard-fingers never rest, +The purple brook within the breast +Still chafes its narrow bed; + +Still rears the East her amber flag, +Guides still the sun along the crag +His caravan of red, + +Like flowers that heard the tale of dews, +But never deemed the dripping prize +Awaited their low brows; + +Or bees, that thought the summer's name +Some rumor of delirium +No summer could for them; + +Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred +By tropic hint, -- some travelled bird +Imported to the wood; + +Or wind's bright signal to the ear, +Making that homely and severe, +Contented, known, before + +The heaven unexpected came, +To lives that thought their worshipping +A too presumptuous psalm. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE SEA OF SUNSET. + +This is the land the sunset washes, +These are the banks of the Yellow Sea; +Where it rose, or whither it rushes, +These are the western mystery! + +Night after night her purple traffic +Strews the landing with opal bales; +Merchantmen poise upon horizons, +Dip, and vanish with fairy sails. + + + + + +XIV. + +PURPLE CLOVER. + +There is a flower that bees prefer, +And butterflies desire; +To gain the purple democrat +The humming-birds aspire. + +And whatsoever insect pass, +A honey bears away +Proportioned to his several dearth +And her capacity. + +Her face is rounder than the moon, +And ruddier than the gown +Of orchis in the pasture, +Or rhododendron worn. + +She doth not wait for June; +Before the world is green +Her sturdy little countenance +Against the wind is seen, + +Contending with the grass, +Near kinsman to herself, +For privilege of sod and sun, +Sweet litigants for life. + +And when the hills are full, +And newer fashions blow, +Doth not retract a single spice +For pang of jealousy. + +Her public is the noon, +Her providence the sun, +Her progress by the bee proclaimed +In sovereign, swerveless tune. + +The bravest of the host, +Surrendering the last, +Nor even of defeat aware +When cancelled by the frost. + + + + + +XV. + +THE BEE. + +Like trains of cars on tracks of plush +I hear the level bee: +A jar across the flowers goes, +Their velvet masonry + +Withstands until the sweet assault +Their chivalry consumes, +While he, victorious, tilts away +To vanquish other blooms. + +His feet are shod with gauze, +His helmet is of gold; +His breast, a single onyx +With chrysoprase, inlaid. + +His labor is a chant, +His idleness a tune; +Oh, for a bee's experience +Of clovers and of noon! + + + + + +XVI. + +Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn +Indicative that suns go down; +The notice to the startled grass +That darkness is about to pass. + + + + + +XVII. + +As children bid the guest good-night, +And then reluctant turn, +My flowers raise their pretty lips, +Then put their nightgowns on. + +As children caper when they wake, +Merry that it is morn, +My flowers from a hundred cribs +Will peep, and prance again. + + + + + +XVIII. + +Angels in the early morning +May be seen the dews among, +Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying: +Do the buds to them belong? + +Angels when the sun is hottest +May be seen the sands among, +Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying; +Parched the flowers they bear along. + + + + + +XIX. + +So bashful when I spied her, +So pretty, so ashamed! +So hidden in her leaflets, +Lest anybody find; + +So breathless till I passed her, +So helpless when I turned +And bore her, struggling, blushing, +Her simple haunts beyond! + +For whom I robbed the dingle, +For whom betrayed the dell, +Many will doubtless ask me, +But I shall never tell! + + + + + +XX. + +TWO WORLDS. + +It makes no difference abroad, +The seasons fit the same, +The mornings blossom into noons, +And split their pods of flame. + +Wild-flowers kindle in the woods, +The brooks brag all the day; +No blackbird bates his jargoning +For passing Calvary. + +Auto-da-fe and judgment +Are nothing to the bee; +His separation from his rose +To him seems misery. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOUNTAIN. + +The mountain sat upon the plain +In his eternal chair, +His observation omnifold, +His inquest everywhere. + +The seasons prayed around his knees, +Like children round a sire: +Grandfather of the days is he, +Of dawn the ancestor. + + + + + +XXII. + +A DAY. + +I'll tell you how the sun rose, -- +A ribbon at a time. +The steeples swam in amethyst, +The news like squirrels ran. + +The hills untied their bonnets, +The bobolinks begun. +Then I said softly to myself, +"That must have been the sun!" + + * * * + +But how he set, I know not. +There seemed a purple stile +Which little yellow boys and girls +Were climbing all the while + +Till when they reached the other side, +A dominie in gray +Put gently up the evening bars, +And led the flock away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The butterfly's assumption-gown, +In chrysoprase apartments hung, + This afternoon put on. + +How condescending to descend, +And be of buttercups the friend + In a New England town! + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE WIND. + +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 gods and me. + +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, +If such an outcast be, +He 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. + + + + + +XXV. + +DEATH AND LIFE. + +Apparently with no surprise +To any happy flower, +The frost beheads it at its play +In accidental power. +The blond assassin passes on, +The sun proceeds unmoved +To measure off another day +For an approving God. + + + + + +XXVI. + +'T WAS later when the summer went +Than when the cricket came, +And yet we knew that gentle clock +Meant nought but going home. + +'T was sooner when the cricket went +Than when the winter came, +Yet that pathetic pendulum +Keeps esoteric time. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INDIAN SUMMER. + +These are the days when birds come back, +A very few, a bird or two, +To take a backward look. + +These are the days when skies put on +The old, old sophistries of June, -- +A blue and gold mistake. + +Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, +Almost thy plausibility +Induces my belief, + +Till ranks of seeds their witness bear, +And softly through the altered air +Hurries a timid leaf! + +Oh, sacrament of summer days, +Oh, last communion in the haze, +Permit a child to join, + +Thy sacred emblems to partake, +Thy consecrated bread to break, +Taste thine immortal wine! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AUTUMN. + +The morns are meeker than they were, +The nuts are getting brown; +The berry's cheek is plumper, +The rose is out of town. + +The maple wears a gayer scarf, +The field a scarlet gown. +Lest I should be old-fashioned, +I'll put a trinket on. + + + + + +XXIX. + +BECLOUDED. + +The sky is low, the clouds are mean, +A travelling flake of snow +Across a barn or through a rut +Debates if it will go. + +A narrow wind complains all day +How some one treated him; +Nature, like us, is sometimes caught +Without her diadem. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE HEMLOCK. + +I think the hemlock likes to stand +Upon a marge of snow; +It suits his own austerity, +And satisfies an awe + +That men must slake in wilderness, +Or in the desert cloy, -- +An instinct for the hoar, the bald, +Lapland's necessity. + +The hemlock's nature thrives on cold; +The gnash of northern winds +Is sweetest nutriment to him, +His best Norwegian wines. + +To satin races he is nought; +But children on the Don +Beneath his tabernacles play, +And Dnieper wrestlers run. + + + + + +XXXI. + +There's a certain slant of light, +On winter afternoons, +That oppresses, like the weight +Of cathedral tunes. + +Heavenly hurt it gives us; +We can find no scar, +But internal difference +Where the meanings are. + +None may teach it anything, +'T is the seal, despair, -- +An imperial affliction +Sent us of the air. + +When it comes, the landscape listens, +Shadows hold their breath; +When it goes, 't is like the distance +On the look of death. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +One dignity delays for all, +One mitred afternoon. +None can avoid this purple, +None evade this crown. + +Coach it insures, and footmen, +Chamber and state and throng; +Bells, also, in the village, +As we ride grand along. + +What dignified attendants, +What service when we pause! +How loyally at parting +Their hundred hats they raise! + +How pomp surpassing ermine, +When simple you and I +Present our meek escutcheon, +And claim the rank to die! + + + + + +II. + +TOO LATE. + +Delayed till she had ceased to know, +Delayed till in its vest of snow + Her loving bosom lay. +An hour behind the fleeting breath, +Later by just an hour than death, -- + Oh, lagging yesterday! + +Could she have guessed that it would be; +Could but a crier of the glee + Have climbed the distant hill; +Had not the bliss so slow a pace, -- +Who knows but this surrendered face + Were undefeated still? + +Oh, if there may departing be +Any forgot by victory + In her imperial round, +Show them this meek apparelled thing, +That could not stop to be a king, + Doubtful if it be crowned! + + + + + +III. + +ASTRA CASTRA. + +Departed to the judgment, +A mighty afternoon; +Great clouds like ushers leaning, +Creation looking on. + +The flesh surrendered, cancelled, +The bodiless begun; +Two worlds, like audiences, disperse +And leave the soul alone. + + + + + +IV. + +Safe in their alabaster chambers, +Untouched by morning and untouched by noon, +Sleep the meek members of the resurrection, +Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. + +Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine; +Babbles the bee in a stolid ear; +Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence, -- +Ah, what sagacity perished here! + +Grand go the years in the crescent above them; +Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row, +Diadems drop and Doges surrender, +Soundless as dots on a disk of snow. + + + + + +V. + +On this long storm the rainbow rose, +On this late morn the sun; +The clouds, like listless elephants, +Horizons straggled down. + +The birds rose smiling in their nests, +The gales indeed were done; +Alas! how heedless were the eyes +On whom the summer shone! + +The quiet nonchalance of death +No daybreak can bestir; +The slow archangel's syllables +Must awaken her. + + + + + +VI. + +FROM THE CHRYSALIS. + +My cocoon tightens, colors tease, +I'm feeling for the air; +A dim capacity for wings +Degrades the dress I wear. + +A power of butterfly must be +The aptitude to fly, +Meadows of majesty concedes +And easy sweeps of sky. + +So I must baffle at the hint +And cipher at the sign, +And make much blunder, if at last +I take the clew divine. + + + + + +VII. + +SETTING SAIL. + +Exultation is the going +Of an inland soul to sea, -- +Past the houses, past the headlands, +Into deep eternity! + +Bred as we, among the mountains, +Can the sailor understand +The divine intoxication +Of the first league out from land? + + + + + +VIII. + +Look back on time with kindly eyes, +He doubtless did his best; +How softly sinks his trembling sun +In human nature's west! + + + + + +IX. + +A train went through a burial gate, +A bird broke forth and sang, +And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat +Till all the churchyard rang; + +And then adjusted his little notes, +And bowed and sang again. +Doubtless, he thought it meet of him +To say good-by to men. + + + + + +X. + +I died for beauty, but was scarce +Adjusted in the tomb, +When one who died for truth was lain +In an adjoining room. + +He questioned softly why I failed? +"For beauty," I replied. +"And I for truth, -- the two are one; +We brethren are," he said. + +And so, as kinsmen met a night, +We talked between the rooms, +Until the moss had reached our lips, +And covered up our names. + + + + + +XI. + +"TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS." + +How many times these low feet staggered, +Only the soldered mouth can tell; +Try! can you stir the awful rivet? +Try! can you lift the hasps of steel? + +Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often, +Lift, if you can, the listless hair; +Handle the adamantine fingers +Never a thimble more shall wear. + +Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window; +Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane; +Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling -- +Indolent housewife, in daisies lain! + + + + + +XII. + +REAL. + +I like a look of agony, +Because I know it 's true; +Men do not sham convulsion, +Nor simulate a throe. + +The eyes glaze once, and that is death. +Impossible to feign +The beads upon the forehead +By homely anguish strung. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE FUNERAL. + +That short, potential stir +That each can make but once, +That bustle so illustrious +'T is almost consequence, + +Is the eclat of death. +Oh, thou unknown renown +That not a beggar would accept, +Had he the power to spurn! + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to thank her, +But she slept; +Her bed a funnelled stone, +With nosegays at the head and foot, +That travellers had thrown, + +Who went to thank her; +But she slept. +'T was short to cross the sea +To look upon her like, alive, +But turning back 't was slow. + + + + + +XV. + +I've seen a dying eye +Run round and round a room +In search of something, as it seemed, +Then cloudier become; +And then, obscure with fog, +And then be soldered down, +Without disclosing what it be, +'T were blessed to have seen. + + + + + +XVI. + +REFUGE. + +The clouds their backs together laid, +The north begun to push, +The forests galloped till they fell, +The lightning skipped like mice; +The thunder crumbled like a stuff -- +How good to be safe in tombs, +Where nature's temper cannot reach, +Nor vengeance ever comes! + + + + + +XVII. + +I never saw a moor, +I never saw the sea; +Yet know I how the heather looks, +And what a wave must be. + +I never spoke with God, +Nor visited in heaven; +Yet certain am I of the spot +As if the chart were given. + + + + + +XVIII. + +PLAYMATES. + +God permits industrious angels +Afternoons to play. +I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, +All, for him, straightway. + +God calls home the angels promptly +At the setting sun; +I missed mine. How dreary marbles, +After playing Crown! + + + + + +XIX. + +To know just how he suffered would be dear; +To know if any human eyes were near +To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze, +Until it settled firm on Paradise. + +To know if he was patient, part content, +Was dying as he thought, or different; +Was it a pleasant day to die, +And did the sunshine face his way? + +What was his furthest mind, of home, or God, +Or what the distant say +At news that he ceased human nature +On such a day? + +And wishes, had he any? +Just his sigh, accented, +Had been legible to me. +And was he confident until +Ill fluttered out in everlasting well? + +And if he spoke, what name was best, +What first, +What one broke off with +At the drowsiest? + +Was he afraid, or tranquil? +Might he know +How conscious consciousness could grow, +Till love that was, and love too blest to be, +Meet -- and the junction be Eternity? + + + + + +XX. + +The last night that she lived, +It was a common night, +Except the dying; this to us +Made nature different. + +We noticed smallest things, -- +Things overlooked before, +By this great light upon our minds +Italicized, as 't were. + +That others could exist +While she must finish quite, +A jealousy for her arose +So nearly infinite. + +We waited while she passed; +It was a narrow time, +Too jostled were our souls to speak, +At length the notice came. + +She mentioned, and forgot; +Then lightly as a reed +Bent to the water, shivered scarce, +Consented, and was dead. + +And we, we placed the hair, +And drew the head erect; +And then an awful leisure was, +Our faith to regulate. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE FIRST LESSON. + +Not in this world to see his face +Sounds long, until I read the place +Where this is said to be +But just the primer to a life +Unopened, rare, upon the shelf, +Clasped yet to him and me. + +And yet, my primer suits me so +I would not choose a book to know +Than that, be sweeter wise; +Might some one else so learned be, +And leave me just my A B C, +Himself could have the skies. + + + + + +XXII. + +The bustle in a house +The morning after death +Is solemnest of industries +Enacted upon earth, -- + +The sweeping up the heart, +And putting love away +We shall not want to use again +Until eternity. + + + + + +XXIII. + +I reason, earth is short, +And anguish absolute, +And many hurt; +But what of that? + +I reason, we could die: +The best vitality +Cannot excel decay; +But what of that? + +I reason that in heaven +Somehow, it will be even, +Some new equation given; +But what of that? + + + + + +XXIV. + +Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? +Not death; for who is he? +The porter of my father's lodge +As much abasheth me. + +Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing +That comprehendeth me +In one or more existences +At Deity's decree. + +Of resurrection? Is the east +Afraid to trust the morn +With her fastidious forehead? +As soon impeach my crown! + + + + + +XXV. + +DYING. + +The sun kept setting, setting still; +No hue of afternoon +Upon the village I perceived, -- +From house to house 't was noon. + +The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; +No dew upon the grass, +But only on my forehead stopped, +And wandered in my face. + +My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, +My fingers were awake; +Yet why so little sound myself +Unto my seeming make? + +How well I knew the light before! +I could not see it now. +'T is dying, I am doing; but +I'm not afraid to know. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Two swimmers wrestled on the spar +Until the morning sun, +When one turned smiling to the land. +O God, the other one! + +The stray ships passing spied a face +Upon the waters borne, +With eyes in death still begging raised, +And hands beseeching thrown. + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE CHARIOT. + +Because I could not stop for Death, +He kindly stopped for me; +The carriage held but just ourselves +And Immortality. + +We slowly drove, he knew no haste, +And I had put away +My labor, and my leisure too, +For his civility. + +We passed the school where children played, +Their lessons scarcely done; +We passed the fields of gazing grain, +We passed the setting sun. + +We paused before a house that seemed +A swelling of the ground; +The roof was scarcely visible, +The cornice but a mound. + +Since then 't is centuries; but each +Feels shorter than the day +I first surmised the horses' heads +Were toward eternity. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +She went as quiet as the dew +From a familiar flower. +Not like the dew did she return +At the accustomed hour! + +She dropt as softly as a star +From out my summer's eve; +Less skilful than Leverrier +It's sorer to believe! + + + + + +XXIX. + +RESURGAM. + +At last to be identified! +At last, the lamps upon thy side, +The rest of life to see! +Past midnight, past the morning star! +Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are +Between our feet and day! + + + + + +XXX. + +Except to heaven, she is nought; +Except for angels, lone; +Except to some wide-wandering bee, +A flower superfluous blown; + +Except for winds, provincial; +Except by butterflies, +Unnoticed as a single dew +That on the acre lies. + +The smallest housewife in the grass, +Yet take her from the lawn, +And somebody has lost the face +That made existence home! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Death is a dialogue between +The spirit and the dust. +"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir, +I have another trust." + +Death doubts it, argues from the ground. +The Spirit turns away, +Just laying off, for evidence, +An overcoat of clay. + + + + + +XXXII. + +It was too late for man, +But early yet for God; +Creation impotent to help, +But prayer remained our side. + +How excellent the heaven, +When earth cannot be had; +How hospitable, then, the face +Of our old neighbor, God! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +ALONG THE POTOMAC. + +When I was small, a woman died. +To-day her only boy +Went up from the Potomac, +His face all victory, + +To look at her; how slowly +The seasons must have turned +Till bullets clipt an angle, +And he passed quickly round! + +If pride shall be in Paradise +I never can decide; +Of their imperial conduct, +No person testified. + +But proud in apparition, +That woman and her boy +Pass back and forth before my brain, +As ever in the sky. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +The daisy follows soft the sun, +And when his golden walk is done, + Sits shyly at his feet. +He, waking, finds the flower near. +"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" + "Because, sir, love is sweet!" + +We are the flower, Thou the sun! +Forgive us, if as days decline, + We nearer steal to Thee, -- +Enamoured of the parting west, +The peace, the flight, the amethyst, + Night's possibility! + + + + + +XXXV. + +EMANCIPATION. + +No rack can torture me, +My soul's at liberty +Behind this mortal bone +There knits a bolder one + +You cannot prick with saw, +Nor rend with scymitar. +Two bodies therefore be; +Bind one, and one will flee. + +The eagle of his nest +No easier divest +And gain the sky, +Than mayest thou, + +Except thyself may be +Thine enemy; +Captivity is consciousness, +So's liberty. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST. + +I lost a world the other day. +Has anybody found? +You'll know it by the row of stars +Around its forehead bound. + +A rich man might not notice it; +Yet to my frugal eye +Of more esteem than ducats. +Oh, find it, sir, for me! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +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! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +Sleep is supposed to be, +By souls of sanity, +The shutting of the eye. + +Sleep is the station grand +Down which on either hand +The hosts of witness stand! + +Morn is supposed to be, +By people of degree, +The breaking of the day. + +Morning has not occurred! +That shall aurora be +East of eternity; + +One with the banner gay, +One in the red array, -- +That is the break of day. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +I shall know why, when time is over, +And I have ceased to wonder why; +Christ will explain each separate anguish +In the fair schoolroom of the sky. + +He will tell me what Peter promised, +And I, for wonder at his woe, +I shall forget the drop of anguish +That scalds me now, that scalds me now. + + + + + +XL. + +I never lost as much but twice, +And that was in the sod; +Twice have I stood a beggar +Before the door of God! + +Angels, twice descending, +Reimbursed my store. +Burglar, banker, father, +I am poor once more! + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Second Series + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE + +The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily Dickinson's +poems has been read shows very clearly that all our alleged modern +artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation of the +qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the greatest +themes,--life and love and death. That "irresistible needle-touch," +as one of her best critics has called it, piercing at once the very +core of a thought, has found a response as wide and sympathetic as +it has been unexpected even to those who knew best her compelling +power. This second volume, while open to the same criticism as to +form with its predecessor, shows also the same shining beauties. + +Although Emily Dickinson had been in the habit of sending +occasional poems to friends and correspondents, the full extent of +her writing was by no means imagined by them. Her friend "H.H." +must at least have suspected it, for in a letter dated 5th +September, 1884, she wrote:-- + + +MY DEAR FRIEND,-- What portfolios full of verses +you must have! It is a cruel wrong to your "day and +generation" that you will not give them light. + +If such a thing should happen as that I should outlive +you, I wish you would make me your literary legatee +and executor. Surely after you are what is called +"dead" you will be willing that the poor ghosts you +have left behind should be cheered and pleased by your +verses, will you not? You ought to be. I do not think +we have a right to withhold from the world a word or +a thought any more than a deed which might help a +single soul. . . . + + Truly yours, + + HELEN JACKSON. + + +The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death, +by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most of the poems had +been carefully copied on sheets of note-paper, and tied in little +fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many of them bear +evidence of having been thrown off at white heat, still more had +received thoughtful revision. There is the frequent addition of +rather perplexing foot-notes, affording large choice of words and +phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends, sometimes one +form, sometimes another, is found to have been used. Without +important exception, her friends have generously placed at the +disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and +these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among several +renderings of the same verse. + +To what further rigorous pruning her verses would have been +subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know. They +should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong and +suggestive sketches of an artist, intended to be embodied at some +time in the finished picture. + +Emily Dickinson appears to have written her first poems in the +winter of 1862. In a letter to oone of the present Editors the +April following, she says, "I made no verse, but one or two, until +this winter." + +The handwriting was at first somewhat like the delicate, running +Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she advanced in +breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt, until in her +latest years each letter stood distinct and separate from its +fellows. In most of her poems, particularly the later ones, +everything by way of punctuation was discarded, except numerous +dashes; and all important words began with capitals. The effect of +a page of her more recent manuscript is exceedingly quaint and +strong. The fac-simile given in the present volume is from one of +the earlier transition periods. Although there is nowhere a date, +the handwriting makes it possible to arrange the poems with general +chronologic accuracy. + +As a rule, the verses were without titles; but "A Country Burial," +"A Thunder-Storm," "The Humming-Bird," and a few others were named +by their author, frequently at the end,--sometimes only in the +accompanying note, if sent to a friend. + +The variation of readings, with the fact that she often wrote in +pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown a good deal of +responsibility upon her Editors. But all interference not +absolutely inevitable has been avoided. The very roughness of her +rendering is part of herself, and not lightly to be touched; for it +seems in many cases that she intentionally avoided the smoother and +more usual rhymes. + +Like impressionist pictures, or Wagner's rugged music, the very +absence of conventional form challenges attention. In Emily +Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic fitness of a +particular order of words might not be sacrificed to anything +virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange cadence of +inner rhythmical music. Lines are always daringly constructed, and +the "thought-rhyme" appears frequently,--appealing, indeed, to an +unrecognized sense more elusive than hearing. + +Emily Dickinson scrutinized everything with clear-eyed frankness. +Every subject was proper ground for legitimate study, even the +sombre facts of death and burial, and the unknown life beyond. She +touches these themes sometimes lightly, sometimes almost +humorously, more often with weird and peculiar power; but she is +never by any chance frivolous or trivial. And while, as one critic +has said, she may exhibit toward God "an Emersonian self-possession," +it was because she looked upon all life with a candor as unprejudiced +as it is rare. + +She had tried society and the world, and found them lacking. She +was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no +love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature +introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist +in pretence. + +Storm, wind, the wild March sky, sunsets and dawns; the birds and +bees, butterflies and flowers of her garden, with a few trusted +human friends, were sufficient companionship. The coming of the +first robin was a jubilee beyond crowning of monarch or birthday of +pope; the first red leaf hurrying through "the altered air," an +epoch. Immortality was close about her; and while never morbid or +melancholy, she lived in its presence. + + MABEL LOOMIS TODD. + + AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS, + August, I891. + + + + + + + + + + + + My nosegays are for captives; + Dim, long-expectant eyes, + Fingers denied the plucking, + Patient till paradise, + + To such, if they should whisper + Of morning and the moor, + They bear no other errand, + And I, no other prayer. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +I'm nobody! Who are you? +Are you nobody, too? +Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell! +They 'd banish us, you know. + +How dreary to be somebody! +How public, like a frog +To tell your name the livelong day +To an admiring bog! + + + + + +II. + +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. + + + + + +III. + +The nearest dream recedes, unrealized. + The heaven we chase + Like the June bee + Before the school-boy + Invites the race; + Stoops to an easy clover -- +Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys; + Then to the royal clouds + Lifts his light pinnace + Heedless of the boy +Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky. + + Homesick for steadfast honey, + Ah! the bee flies not +That brews that rare variety. + + + + + +IV. + +We play at paste, +Till qualified for pearl, +Then drop the paste, +And deem ourself a fool. +The shapes, though, were similar, +And our new hands +Learned gem-tactics +Practising sands. + + + + + +V. + +I found the phrase to every thought +I ever had, but one; +And that defies me, -- as a hand +Did try to chalk the sun + +To races nurtured in the dark; -- +How would your own begin? +Can blaze be done in cochineal, +Or noon in mazarin? + + + + + +VI. + +HOPE. + +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. + + + + + +VII. + +THE WHITE HEAT. + +Dare you see a soul at the white heat? + Then crouch within the door. +Red is the fire's common tint; + But when the vivid ore + +Has sated flame's conditions, + Its quivering substance plays +Without a color but the light + Of unanointed blaze. + +Least village boasts its blacksmith, + Whose anvil's even din +Stands symbol for the finer forge + That soundless tugs within, + +Refining these impatient ores + With hammer and with blaze, +Until the designated light + Repudiate the forge. + + + + + +VIII. + +TRIUMPHANT. + +Who never lost, are unprepared +A coronet to find; +Who never thirsted, flagons +And cooling tamarind. + +Who never climbed the weary league -- +Can such a foot explore +The purple territories +On Pizarro's shore? + +How many legions overcome? +The emperor will say. +How many colors taken +On Revolution Day? + +How many bullets bearest? +The royal scar hast thou? +Angels, write "Promoted" +On this soldier's brow! + + + + + +IX. + +THE TEST. + +I can wade grief, +Whole pools of it, -- +I 'm used to that. +But the least push of joy +Breaks up my feet, +And I tip -- drunken. +Let no pebble smile, +'T was the new liquor, -- +That was all! + +Power is only pain, +Stranded, through discipline, +Till weights will hang. +Give balm to giants, +And they 'll wilt, like men. +Give Himmaleh, -- +They 'll carry him! + + + + + +X. + +ESCAPE. + +I never hear the word "escape" +Without a quicker blood, +A sudden expectation, +A flying attitude. + +I never hear of prisons broad +By soldiers battered down, +But I tug childish at my bars, -- +Only to fail again! + + + + + + +XI. + +COMPENSATION. + +For each ecstatic instant +We must an anguish pay +In keen and quivering ratio +To the ecstasy. + +For each beloved hour +Sharp pittances of years, +Bitter contested farthings +And coffers heaped with tears. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MARTYRS. + +Through the straight pass of suffering +The martyrs even trod, +Their feet upon temptation, +Their faces upon God. + +A stately, shriven company; +Convulsion playing round, +Harmless as streaks of meteor +Upon a planet's bound. + +Their faith the everlasting troth; +Their expectation fair; +The needle to the north degree +Wades so, through polar air. + + + + + +XIII. + +A PRAYER. + +I meant to have but modest needs, +Such as content, and heaven; +Within my income these could lie, +And life and I keep even. + +But since the last included both, +It would suffice my prayer +But just for one to stipulate, +And grace would grant the pair. + +And so, upon this wise I prayed, -- +Great Spirit, give to me +A heaven not so large as yours, +But large enough for me. + +A smile suffused Jehovah's face; +The cherubim withdrew; +Grave saints stole out to look at me, +And showed their dimples, too. + +I left the place with all my might, -- +My prayer away I threw; +The quiet ages picked it up, +And Judgment twinkled, too, + +That one so honest be extant +As take the tale for true +That "Whatsoever you shall ask, +Itself be given you." + +But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies +With a suspicious air, -- +As children, swindled for the first, +All swindlers be, infer. + + + + + +XIV. + +The thought beneath so slight a film +Is more distinctly seen, -- +As laces just reveal the surge, +Or mists the Apennine. + + + + + +XV. + +The soul unto itself +Is an imperial friend, -- +Or the most agonizing spy +An enemy could send. + +Secure against its own, +No treason it can fear; +Itself its sovereign, of itself +The soul should stand in awe. + + + + + +XVI. + +Surgeons must be very careful +When they take the knife! +Underneath their fine incisions +Stirs the culprit, -- Life! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE RAILWAY TRAIN. + +I like to see it lap the miles, +And lick the valleys up, +And stop to feed itself at tanks; +And then, prodigious, step + +Around a pile of mountains, +And, supercilious, peer +In shanties by the sides of roads; +And then a quarry pare + +To fit its sides, and crawl between, +Complaining all the while +In horrid, hooting stanza; +Then chase itself down hill + +And neigh like Boanerges; +Then, punctual as a star, +Stop -- docile and omnipotent -- +At its own stable door. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SHOW. + +The show is not the show, +But they that go. +Menagerie to me +My neighbor be. +Fair play -- +Both went to see. + + + + + +XIX. + +Delight becomes pictorial +When viewed through pain, -- +More fair, because impossible +That any gain. + +The mountain at a given distance +In amber lies; +Approached, the amber flits a little, -- +And that 's the skies! + + + + + +XX. + +A thought went up my mind to-day +That I have had before, +But did not finish, -- some way back, +I could not fix the year, + +Nor where it went, nor why it came +The second time to me, +Nor definitely what it was, +Have I the art to say. + +But somewhere in my soul, I know +I 've met the thing before; +It just reminded me -- 't was all -- +And came my way no more. + + + + + +XXI. + +Is Heaven a physician? +They say that He can heal, +But medicine posthumous + Is unavailable. + +Is Heaven an exchequer? + They speak of what we owe; +But that negotiation + I 'm not a party to. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE RETURN. + +Though I get home how late, how late! +So I get home, 't will compensate. +Better will be the ecstasy +That they have done expecting me, +When, night descending, dumb and dark, +They hear my unexpected knock. +Transporting must the moment be, +Brewed from decades of agony! + +To think just how the fire will burn, +Just how long-cheated eyes will turn +To wonder what myself will say, +And what itself will say to me, +Beguiles the centuries of way! + + + + + +XXIII. + +A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, +That sat it down to rest, +Nor noticed that the ebbing day +Flowed silver to the west, +Nor noticed night did soft descend +Nor constellation burn, +Intent upon the vision +Of latitudes unknown. + +The angels, happening that way, +This dusty heart espied; +Tenderly took it up from toil +And carried it to God. +There, -- sandals for the barefoot; +There, -- gathered from the gales, +Do the blue havens by the hand +Lead the wandering sails. + + + + + +XXIV. + +TOO MUCH. + +I should have been too glad, I see, +Too lifted for the scant degree + Of life's penurious round; +My little circuit would have shamed +This new circumference, have blamed + The homelier time behind. + +I should have been too saved, I see, +Too rescued; fear too dim to me + That I could spell the prayer +I knew so perfect yesterday, -- +That scalding one, "Sabachthani," + Recited fluent here. + +Earth would have been too much, I see, +And heaven not enough for me; + I should have had the joy +Without the fear to justify, -- +The palm without the Calvary; + So, Saviour, crucify. + +Defeat whets victory, they say; +The reefs in old Gethsemane + Endear the shore beyond. +'T is beggars banquets best define; +'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, -- + Faith faints to understand. + + + + + +XXV. + +SHIPWRECK. + +It tossed and tossed, -- +A little brig I knew, -- +O'ertook by blast, +It spun and spun, +And groped delirious, for morn. + +It slipped and slipped, +As one that drunken stepped; +Its white foot tripped, +Then dropped from sight. + +Ah, brig, good-night +To crew and you; +The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue, +To break for you. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Victory comes late, +And is held low to freezing lips +Too rapt with frost +To take it. +How sweet it would have tasted, +Just a drop! +Was God so economical? +His table 's spread too high for us +Unless we dine on tip-toe. +Crumbs fit such little mouths, +Cherries suit robins; +The eagle's golden breakfast +Strangles them. +God keeps his oath to sparrows, +Who of little love +Know how to starve! + + + + + +XXVII. + +ENOUGH. + +God gave a loaf to every bird, +But just a crumb to me; +I dare not eat it, though I starve, -- +My poignant luxury +To own it, touch it, prove the feat +That made the pellet mine, -- +Too happy in my sparrow chance +For ampler coveting. + +It might be famine all around, +I could not miss an ear, +Such plenty smiles upon my board, +My garner shows so fair. +I wonder how the rich may feel, -- +An Indiaman -- an Earl? +I deem that I with but a crumb +Am sovereign of them all. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +Experiment to me +Is every one I meet. +If it contain a kernel? +The figure of a nut + +Presents upon a tree, +Equally plausibly; +But meat within is requisite, +To squirrels and to me. + + + + + +XXIX. + +MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE. + +My country need not change her gown, +Her triple suit as sweet +As when 't was cut at Lexington, +And first pronounced "a fit." + +Great Britain disapproves "the stars;" +Disparagement discreet, -- +There 's something in their attitude +That taunts her bayonet. + + + + + +XXX. + +Faith is a fine invention +For gentlemen who see; +But microscopes are prudent +In an emergency! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Except the heaven had come so near, +So seemed to choose my door, +The distance would not haunt me so; +I had not hoped before. + +But just to hear the grace depart +I never thought to see, +Afflicts me with a double loss; +'T is lost, and lost to me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +Portraits are to daily faces +As an evening west +To a fine, pedantic sunshine +In a satin vest. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +THE DUEL. + +I took my power in my hand. +And went against the world; +'T was not so much as David had, +But I was twice as bold. + +I aimed my pebble, but myself +Was all the one that fell. +Was it Goliath was too large, +Or only I too small? + + + + + +XXXIV. + +A shady friend for torrid days +Is easier to find +Than one of higher temperature +For frigid hour of mind. + +The vane a little to the east +Scares muslin souls away; +If broadcloth breasts are firmer +Than those of organdy, + +Who is to blame? The weaver? +Ah! the bewildering thread! +The tapestries of paradise +So notelessly are made! + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE GOAL. + +Each life converges to some centre +Expressed or still; +Exists in every human nature +A goal, + +Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be, +Too fair +For credibility's temerity +To dare. + +Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven, +To reach +Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment +To touch, + +Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance; +How high +Unto the saints' slow diligence +The sky! + +Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture, +But then, +Eternity enables the endeavoring +Again. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +SIGHT. + +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, to-day, +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 lightning's jointed 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. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +Talk with prudence to a beggar +Of 'Potosi' and the mines! +Reverently to the hungry +Of your viands and your wines! + +Cautious, hint to any captive +You have passed enfranchised feet! +Anecdotes of air in dungeons +Have sometimes proved deadly sweet! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +THE PREACHER. + +He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, -- +The broad are too broad to define; +And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, -- +The truth never flaunted a sign. + +Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence +As gold the pyrites would shun. +What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus +To meet so enabled a man! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Good night! which put the candle out? +A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. + Ah! friend, you little knew +How long at that celestial wick +The angels labored diligent; + Extinguished, now, for you! + +It might have been the lighthouse spark +Some sailor, rowing in the dark, + Had importuned to see! +It might have been the waning lamp +That lit the drummer from the camp + To purer reveille! + + + + + +XL. + +When I hoped I feared, +Since I hoped I dared; +Everywhere alone +As a church remain; +Spectre cannot harm, +Serpent cannot charm; +He deposes doom, +Who hath suffered him. + + + + + +XLI. + +DEED. + +A deed knocks first at thought, +And then it knocks at will. +That is the manufacturing spot, +And will at home and well. + +It then goes out an act, +Or is entombed so still +That only to the ear of God +Its doom is audible. + + + + + +XLII. + +TIME'S LESSON. + +Mine enemy is growing old, -- +I have at last revenge. +The palate of the hate departs; +If any would avenge, -- + +Let him be quick, the viand flits, +It is a faded meat. +Anger as soon as fed is dead; +'T is starving makes it fat. + + + + + +XLIII. + +REMORSE. + +Remorse is memory awake, +Her companies astir, -- +A presence of departed acts +At window and at door. + +It's past set down before the soul, +And lighted with a match, +Perusal to facilitate +Of its condensed despatch. + +Remorse is cureless, -- the disease +Not even God can heal; +For 't is his institution, -- +The complement of hell. + + + + + +XLIV. + +THE SHELTER. + +The body grows outside, -- +The more convenient way, -- +That if the spirit like to hide, +Its temple stands alway + +Ajar, secure, inviting; +It never did betray +The soul that asked its shelter +In timid honesty. + + + + + +XLV. + +Undue significance a starving man attaches +To food +Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless, +And therefore good. + +Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us +That spices fly +In the receipt. It was the distance +Was savory. + + + + + +XLVI. + +Heart not so heavy as mine, +Wending late home, +As it passed my window +Whistled itself a tune, -- + +A careless snatch, a ballad, +A ditty of the street; +Yet to my irritated ear +An anodyne so sweet, + +It was as if a bobolink, +Sauntering this way, +Carolled and mused and carolled, +Then bubbled slow away. + +It was as if a chirping brook +Upon a toilsome way +Set bleeding feet to minuets +Without the knowing why. + +To-morrow, night will come again, +Weary, perhaps, and sore. +Ah, bugle, by my window, +I pray you stroll once more! + + + + + +XLVII. + +I many times thought peace had come, +When peace was far away; +As wrecked men deem they sight the land +At centre of the sea, + +And struggle slacker, but to prove, +As hopelessly as I, +How many the fictitious shores +Before the harbor lie. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +Unto my books so good to turn +Far ends of tired days; +It half endears the abstinence, +And pain is missed in praise. + +As flavors cheer retarded guests +With banquetings to be, +So spices stimulate the time +Till my small library. + +It may be wilderness without, +Far feet of failing men, +But holiday excludes the night, +And it is bells within. + +I thank these kinsmen of the shelf; +Their countenances bland +Enamour in prospective, +And satisfy, obtained. + + + + + +XLIX. + +This merit hath the worst, -- +It cannot be again. +When Fate hath taunted last +And thrown her furthest stone, + +The maimed may pause and breathe, +And glance securely round. +The deer invites no longer +Than it eludes the hound. + + + + + +L. + +HUNGER. + +I had been hungry all the years; +My noon had come, to dine; +I, trembling, drew the table near, +And touched the curious wine. + +'T was this on tables I had seen, +When turning, hungry, lone, +I looked in windows, for the wealth +I could not hope to own. + +I did not know the ample bread, +'T was so unlike the crumb +The birds and I had often shared +In Nature's dining-room. + +The plenty hurt me, 't was so new, -- +Myself felt ill and odd, +As berry of a mountain bush +Transplanted to the road. + +Nor was I hungry; so I found +That hunger was a way +Of persons outside windows, +The entering takes away. + + + + + +LI. + +I gained it so, + By climbing slow, +By catching at the twigs that grow +Between the bliss and me. + It hung so high, + As well the sky + Attempt by strategy. + + +I said I gained it, -- + This was all. +Look, how I clutch it, + Lest it fall, +And I a pauper go; +Unfitted by an instant's grace +For the contented beggar's face +I wore an hour ago. + + + + + +LII. + +To learn the transport by the pain, +As blind men learn the sun; +To die of thirst, suspecting +That brooks in meadows run; + +To stay the homesick, homesick feet +Upon a foreign shore +Haunted by native lands, the while, +And blue, beloved air -- + +This is the sovereign anguish, +This, the signal woe! +These are the patient laureates +Whose voices, trained below, + +Ascend in ceaseless carol, +Inaudible, indeed, +To us, the duller scholars +Of the mysterious bard! + + + + + +LIII. + +RETURNING. + +I years had been from home, +And now, before the door, +I dared not open, lest a face +I never saw before + +Stare vacant into mine +And ask my business there. +My business, -- just a life I left, +Was such still dwelling there? + +I fumbled at my nerve, +I scanned the windows near; +The silence like an ocean rolled, +And broke against my ear. + +I laughed a wooden laugh +That I could fear a door, +Who danger and the dead had faced, +But never quaked before. + +I fitted to the latch +My hand, with trembling care, +Lest back the awful door should spring, +And leave me standing there. + +I moved my fingers off +As cautiously as glass, +And held my ears, and like a thief +Fled gasping from the house. + + + + + +LIV. + +PRAYER. + +Prayer is the little implement +Through which men reach +Where presence is denied them. +They fling their speech + +By means of it in God's ear; +If then He hear, +This sums the apparatus +Comprised in prayer. + + + + + +LV. + +I know that he exists +Somewhere, in silence. +He has hid his rare life +From our gross eyes. + +'T is an instant's play, +'T is a fond ambush, +Just to make bliss +Earn her own surprise! + +But should the play +Prove piercing earnest, +Should the glee glaze +In death's stiff stare, + +Would not the fun +Look too expensive? +Would not the jest +Have crawled too far? + + + + + +LVI. + +MELODIES UNHEARD. + +Musicians wrestle everywhere: +All day, among the crowded air, + I hear the silver strife; +And -- waking long before the dawn -- +Such transport breaks upon the town + I think it that "new life!" + +It is not bird, it has no nest; +Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed, + Nor tambourine, nor man; +It is not hymn from pulpit read, -- +The morning stars the treble led + On time's first afternoon! + +Some say it is the spheres at play! +Some say that bright majority + Of vanished dames and men! +Some think it service in the place +Where we, with late, celestial face, + Please God, shall ascertain! + + + + + +LVII. + +CALLED BACK. + +Just lost when I was saved! +Just felt the world go by! +Just girt me for the onset with eternity, +When breath blew back, +And on the other side +I heard recede the disappointed tide! + +Therefore, as one returned, I feel, +Odd secrets of the line to tell! +Some sailor, skirting foreign shores, +Some pale reporter from the awful doors +Before the seal! + +Next time, to stay! +Next time, the things to see +By ear unheard, +Unscrutinized by eye. + +Next time, to tarry, +While the ages steal, -- +Slow tramp the centuries, +And the cycles wheel. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CHOICE. + +Of all the souls that stand create +I have elected one. +When sense from spirit files away, +And subterfuge is done; + +When that which is and that which was +Apart, intrinsic, stand, +And this brief tragedy of flesh +Is shifted like a sand; + +When figures show their royal front +And mists are carved away, -- +Behold the atom I preferred +To all the lists of clay! + + + + + +II. + +I have no life but this, +To lead it here; +Nor any death, but lest +Dispelled from there; + +Nor tie to earths to come, +Nor action new, +Except through this extent, +The realm of you. + + + + + +III. + +Your riches taught me poverty. +Myself a millionnaire +In little wealths, -- as girls could boast, -- +Till broad as Buenos Ayre, + +You drifted your dominions +A different Peru; +And I esteemed all poverty, +For life's estate with you. + +Of mines I little know, myself, +But just the names of gems, -- +The colors of the commonest; +And scarce of diadems + +So much that, did I meet the queen, +Her glory I should know: +But this must be a different wealth, +To miss it beggars so. + +I 'm sure 't is India all day +To those who look on you +Without a stint, without a blame, -- +Might I but be the Jew! + +I 'm sure it is Golconda, +Beyond my power to deem, -- +To have a smile for mine each day, +How better than a gem! + +At least, it solaces to know +That there exists a gold, +Although I prove it just in time +Its distance to behold! + +It 's far, far treasure to surmise, +And estimate the pearl +That slipped my simple fingers through +While just a girl at school! + + + + + +IV. + +THE CONTRACT. + +I gave myself to him, +And took himself for pay. +The solemn contract of a life +Was ratified this way. + +The wealth might disappoint, +Myself a poorer prove +Than this great purchaser suspect, +The daily own of Love + +Depreciate the vision; +But, till the merchant buy, +Still fable, in the isles of spice, +The subtle cargoes lie. + +At least, 't is mutual risk, -- +Some found it mutual gain; +Sweet debt of Life, -- each night to owe, +Insolvent, every noon. + + + + + +V. + +THE LETTER. + +"GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him -- +Tell him the page I didn't write; +Tell him I only said the syntax, +And left the verb and the pronoun out. +Tell him just how the fingers hurried, +Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow; +And then you wished you had eyes in your pages, +So you could see what moved them so. + +"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer, +You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled; +You could hear the bodice tug, behind you, +As if it held but the might of a child; +You almost pitied it, you, it worked so. +Tell him -- No, you may quibble there, +For it would split his heart to know it, +And then you and I were silenter. + +"Tell him night finished before we finished, +And the old clock kept neighing 'day!' +And you got sleepy and begged to be ended -- +What could it hinder so, to say? +Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious, +But if he ask where you are hid +Until to-morrow, -- happy letter! +Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!" + + + + + +VI. + +The way I read a letter 's this: +'T is first I lock the door, +And push it with my fingers next, +For transport it be sure. + +And then I go the furthest off +To counteract a knock; +Then draw my little letter forth +And softly pick its lock. + +Then, glancing narrow at the wall, +And narrow at the floor, +For firm conviction of a mouse +Not exorcised before, + +Peruse how infinite I am +To -- no one that you know! +And sigh for lack of heaven, -- but not +The heaven the creeds bestow. + + + + + +VII. + +Wild nights! Wild nights! +Were I with thee, +Wild nights should be +Our luxury! + +Futile the winds +To a heart in port, -- +Done with the compass, +Done with the chart. + +Rowing in Eden! +Ah! the sea! +Might I but moor +To-night in thee! + + + + + +VIII. + +AT HOME. + +The night was wide, and furnished scant +With but a single star, +That often as a cloud it met +Blew out itself for fear. + +The wind pursued the little bush, +And drove away the leaves +November left; then clambered up +And fretted in the eaves. + +No squirrel went abroad; +A dog's belated feet +Like intermittent plush were heard +Adown the empty street. + +To feel if blinds be fast, +And closer to the fire +Her little rocking-chair to draw, +And shiver for the poor, + +The housewife's gentle task. +"How pleasanter," said she +Unto the sofa opposite, +"The sleet than May -- no thee!" + + + + + +IX. + +POSSESSION. + +Did the harebell loose her girdle +To the lover bee, +Would the bee the harebell hallow +Much as formerly? + +Did the paradise, persuaded, +Yield her moat of pearl, +Would the Eden be an Eden, +Or the earl an earl? + + + + + +X. + +A charm invests a face +Imperfectly beheld, -- +The lady dare not lift her veil +For fear it be dispelled. + +But peers beyond her mesh, +And wishes, and denies, -- +Lest interview annul a want +That image satisfies. + + + + + +XI. + +THE LOVERS. + +The rose did caper on her cheek, +Her bodice rose and fell, +Her pretty speech, like drunken men, +Did stagger pitiful. + +Her fingers fumbled at her work, -- +Her needle would not go; +What ailed so smart a little maid +It puzzled me to know, + +Till opposite I spied a cheek +That bore another rose; +Just opposite, another speech +That like the drunkard goes; + +A vest that, like the bodice, danced +To the immortal tune, -- +Till those two troubled little clocks +Ticked softly into one. + + + + + +XII. + +In lands I never saw, they say, +Immortal Alps look down, +Whose bonnets touch the firmament, +Whose sandals touch the town, -- + +Meek at whose everlasting feet +A myriad daisies play. +Which, sir, are you, and which am I, +Upon an August day? + + + + + +XIII. + +The moon is distant from the sea, +And yet with amber hands +She leads him, docile as a boy, +Along appointed sands. + +He never misses a degree; +Obedient to her eye, +He comes just so far toward the town, +Just so far goes away. + +Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand, +And mine the distant sea, -- +Obedient to the least command +Thine eyes impose on me. + + + + + +XIV. + +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, knew you not +For whom I must decline? + + + + + +XV. + +THE LOST JEWEL. + +I held a jewel in my fingers +And went to sleep. +The day was warm, and winds were prosy; +I said: "'T will keep." + +I woke and chid my honest fingers, -- +The gem was gone; +And now an amethyst remembrance +Is all I own. + + + + + +XVI. + +What if I say I shall not wait? +What if I burst the fleshly gate +And pass, escaped, to thee? +What if I file this mortal off, +See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, -- +And wade in liberty? + +They cannot take us any more, -- +Dungeons may call, and guns implore; +Unmeaning now, to me, +As laughter was an hour ago, +Or laces, or a travelling show, +Or who died yesterday! + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +MOTHER NATURE. + +Nature, the gentlest mother, +Impatient of no child, +The feeblest or the waywardest, -- +Her admonition mild + +In forest and the hill +By traveller is heard, +Restraining rampant squirrel +Or too impetuous bird. + +How fair her conversation, +A summer afternoon, -- +Her household, her assembly; +And when the sun goes down + +Her voice among the aisles +Incites the timid prayer +Of the minutest cricket, +The most unworthy flower. + +When all the children sleep +She turns as long away +As will suffice to light her lamps; +Then, bending from the sky + +With infinite affection +And infiniter care, +Her golden finger on her lip, +Wills silence everywhere. + + + + + +II. + +OUT OF THE MORNING. + +Will there really be a morning? +Is there such a thing as day? +Could I see it from the mountains +If I were as tall as they? + +Has it feet like water-lilies? +Has it feathers like a bird? +Is it brought from famous countries +Of which I have never heard? + +Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! +Oh, some wise man from the skies! +Please to tell a little pilgrim +Where the place called morning lies! + + + + + +III. + +At half-past three a single bird +Unto a silent sky +Propounded but a single term +Of cautious melody. + +At half-past four, experiment +Had subjugated test, +And lo! her silver principle +Supplanted all the rest. + +At half-past seven, element +Nor implement was seen, +And place was where the presence was, +Circumference between. + + + + + +IV. + +DAY'S PARLOR. + +The day came slow, till five o'clock, +Then sprang before the hills +Like hindered rubies, or the light +A sudden musket spills. + +The purple could not keep the east, +The sunrise shook from fold, +Like breadths of topaz, packed a night, +The lady just unrolled. + +The happy winds their timbrels took; +The birds, in docile rows, +Arranged themselves around their prince +(The wind is prince of those). + +The orchard sparkled like a Jew, -- +How mighty 't was, to stay +A guest in this stupendous place, +The parlor of the day! + + + + + +V. + +THE SUN'S WOOING. + +The sun just touched the morning; +The morning, happy thing, +Supposed that he had come to dwell, +And life would be all spring. + +She felt herself supremer, -- +A raised, ethereal thing; +Henceforth for her what holiday! +Meanwhile, her wheeling king + +Trailed slow along the orchards +His haughty, spangled hems, +Leaving a new necessity, -- +The want of diadems! + +The morning fluttered, staggered, +Felt feebly for her crown, -- +Her unanointed forehead +Henceforth her only one. + + + + + + +VI. + +THE ROBIN. + +The robin is the one +That interrupts the morn +With hurried, few, express reports +When March is scarcely on. + +The robin is the one +That overflows the noon +With her cherubic quantity, +An April but begun. + +The robin is the one +That speechless from her nest +Submits that home and certainty +And sanctity are best. + + + + + +VII. + +THE BUTTERFLY'S DAY. + +From cocoon forth a butterfly +As lady from her door +Emerged -- a summer afternoon -- +Repairing everywhere, + +Without design, that I could trace, +Except to stray abroad +On miscellaneous enterprise +The clovers understood. + +Her pretty parasol was seen +Contracting in a field +Where men made hay, then struggling hard +With an opposing cloud, + +Where parties, phantom as herself, +To Nowhere seemed to go +In purposeless circumference, +As 't were a tropic show. + +And notwithstanding bee that worked, +And flower that zealous blew, +This audience of idleness +Disdained them, from the sky, + +Till sundown crept, a steady tide, +And men that made the hay, +And afternoon, and butterfly, +Extinguished in its sea. + + + + + +VIII. + +THE BLUEBIRD. + +Before you thought of spring, +Except as a surmise, +You see, God bless his suddenness, +A fellow in the skies +Of independent hues, +A little weather-worn, +Inspiriting habiliments +Of indigo and brown. + +With specimens of song, +As if for you to choose, +Discretion in the interval, +With gay delays he goes +To some superior tree +Without a single leaf, +And shouts for joy to nobody +But his seraphic self! + + + + + +IX. + +APRIL. + +An altered look about the hills; +A Tyrian light the village fills; +A wider sunrise in the dawn; +A deeper twilight on the lawn; +A print of a vermilion foot; +A purple finger on the slope; +A flippant fly upon the pane; +A spider at his trade again; +An added strut in chanticleer; +A flower expected everywhere; +An axe shrill singing in the woods; +Fern-odors on untravelled roads, -- +All this, and more I cannot tell, +A furtive look you know as well, +And Nicodemus' mystery +Receives its annual reply. + + + + + +X. + +THE SLEEPING FLOWERS. + +"Whose are the little beds," I asked, +"Which in the valleys lie?" +Some shook their heads, and others smiled, +And no one made reply. + +"Perhaps they did not hear," I said; +"I will inquire again. +Whose are the beds, the tiny beds +So thick upon the plain?" + +"'T is daisy in the shortest; +A little farther on, +Nearest the door to wake the first, +Little leontodon. + +"'T is iris, sir, and aster, +Anemone and bell, +Batschia in the blanket red, +And chubby daffodil." + +Meanwhile at many cradles +Her busy foot she plied, +Humming the quaintest lullaby +That ever rocked a child. + +"Hush! Epigea wakens! -- +The crocus stirs her lids, +Rhodora's cheek is crimson, -- +She's dreaming of the woods." + +Then, turning from them, reverent, +"Their bed-time 't is," she said; +"The bumble-bees will wake them +When April woods are red." + + + + + +XI. + +MY ROSE. + +Pigmy seraphs gone astray, +Velvet people from Vevay, +Belles from some lost summer day, +Bees' exclusive coterie. +Paris could not lay the fold +Belted down with emerald; +Venice could not show a cheek +Of a tint so lustrous meek. +Never such an ambuscade +As of brier and leaf displayed +For my little damask maid. +I had rather wear her grace +Than an earl's distinguished face; +I had rather dwell like her +Than be Duke of Exeter +Royalty enough for me +To subdue the bumble-bee! + + + + + +XII. + +THE ORIOLE'S SECRET. + +To hear an oriole sing +May be a common thing, +Or only a divine. + +It is not of the bird +Who sings the same, unheard, +As unto crowd. + +The fashion of the ear +Attireth that it hear +In dun or fair. + +So whether it be rune, +Or whether it be none, +Is of within; + +The "tune is in the tree," +The sceptic showeth me; +"No, sir! In thee!" + + + + + +XIII. + +THE ORIOLE. + +One of the ones that Midas touched, +Who failed to touch us all, +Was that confiding prodigal, +The blissful oriole. + +So drunk, he disavows it +With badinage divine; +So dazzling, we mistake him +For an alighting mine. + +A pleader, a dissembler, +An epicure, a thief, -- +Betimes an oratorio, +An ecstasy in chief; + +The Jesuit of orchards, +He cheats as he enchants +Of an entire attar +For his decamping wants. + +The splendor of a Burmah, +The meteor of birds, +Departing like a pageant +Of ballads and of bards. + +I never thought that Jason sought +For any golden fleece; +But then I am a rural man, +With thoughts that make for peace. + +But if there were a Jason, +Tradition suffer me +Behold his lost emolument +Upon the apple-tree. + + + + + +XIV. + +IN SHADOW. + +I dreaded that first robin so, +But he is mastered now, +And I 'm accustomed to him grown, -- +He hurts a little, though. + +I thought if I could only live +Till that first shout got by, +Not all pianos in the woods +Had power to mangle me. + +I dared not meet the daffodils, +For fear their yellow gown +Would pierce me with a fashion +So foreign to my own. + +I wished the grass would hurry, +So when 't was time to see, +He 'd be too tall, the tallest one +Could stretch to look at me. + +I could not bear the bees should come, +I wished they 'd stay away +In those dim countries where they go: +What word had they for me? + +They 're here, though; not a creature failed, +No blossom stayed away +In gentle deference to me, +The Queen of Calvary. + +Each one salutes me as he goes, +And I my childish plumes +Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment +Of their unthinking drums. + + + + + +XV. + +THE HUMMING-BIRD. + +A route of evanescence +With a revolving wheel; +A resonance of emerald, +A rush of cochineal; +And every blossom on the bush +Adjusts its tumbled head, -- +The mail from Tunis, probably, +An easy morning's ride. + + + + + +XVI. + +SECRETS. + +The skies can't keep their secret! +They tell it to the hills -- +The hills just tell the orchards -- +And they the daffodils! + +A bird, by chance, that goes that way +Soft overheard the whole. +If I should bribe the little bird, +Who knows but she would tell? + +I think I won't, however, +It's finer not to know; +If summer were an axiom, +What sorcery had snow? + +So keep your secret, Father! +I would not, if I could, +Know what the sapphire fellows do, +In your new-fashioned world! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who robbed the woods, +The trusting woods? +The unsuspecting trees +Brought out their burrs and mosses +His fantasy to please. +He scanned their trinkets, curious, +He grasped, he bore away. +What will the solemn hemlock, +What will the fir-tree say? + + + + + +XVIII. + +TWO VOYAGERS. + +Two butterflies went out at noon +And waltzed above a stream, +Then stepped straight through the firmament +And rested on a beam; + +And then together bore away +Upon a shining sea, -- +Though never yet, in any port, +Their coming mentioned be. + +If spoken by the distant bird, +If met in ether sea +By frigate or by merchantman, +Report was not to me. + + + + + +XIX. + +BY THE SEA. + +I started early, took my dog, +And visited the sea; +The mermaids in the basement +Came out to look at me, + +And frigates in the upper floor +Extended hempen hands, +Presuming me to be a mouse +Aground, upon the sands. + +But no man moved me till the tide +Went past my simple shoe, +And past my apron and my belt, +And past my bodice too, + +And made as he would eat me up +As wholly as a dew +Upon a dandelion's sleeve -- +And then I started too. + +And he -- he followed close behind; +I felt his silver heel +Upon my ankle, -- then my shoes +Would overflow with pearl. + +Until we met the solid town, +No man he seemed to know; +And bowing with a mighty look +At me, the sea withdrew. + + + + + +XX. + +OLD-FASHIONED. + +Arcturus is his other name, -- +I'd rather call him star! +It's so unkind of science +To go and interfere! + +I pull a flower from the woods, -- +A monster with a glass +Computes the stamens in a breath, +And has her in a class. + +Whereas I took the butterfly +Aforetime in my hat, +He sits erect in cabinets, +The clover-bells forgot. + +What once was heaven, is zenith now. +Where I proposed to go +When time's brief masquerade was done, +Is mapped, and charted too! + +What if the poles should frisk about +And stand upon their heads! +I hope I 'm ready for the worst, +Whatever prank betides! + +Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed! +I hope the children there +Won't be new-fashioned when I come, +And laugh at me, and stare! + +I hope the father in the skies +Will lift his little girl, -- +Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, -- +Over the stile of pearl! + + + + + +XXI. + +A TEMPEST. + +An awful tempest mashed the air, +The clouds were gaunt and few; +A black, as of a spectre's cloak, +Hid heaven and earth from view. + +The creatures chuckled on the roofs +And whistled in the air, +And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth. +And swung their frenzied hair. + +The morning lit, the birds arose; +The monster's faded eyes +Turned slowly to his native coast, +And peace was Paradise! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE SEA. + +An everywhere of silver, +With ropes of sand +To keep it from effacing +The track called land. + + + + + +XXIII. + +IN THE GARDEN. + +A bird came down the walk: +He did not know I saw; +He bit an angle-worm in halves +And ate the fellow, raw. + +And then he drank a dew +From a convenient grass, +And then hopped sidewise to the wall +To let a beetle pass. + +He glanced with rapid eyes +That hurried all abroad, -- +They looked like frightened beads, I thought; +He stirred his velvet head + +Like one in danger; cautious, +I offered him a crumb, +And he unrolled his feathers +And rowed him softer home + +Than oars divide the ocean, +Too silver for a seam, +Or butterflies, off banks of noon, +Leap, splashless, as they swim. + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE SNAKE. + +A narrow fellow in the grass +Occasionally rides; +You may have met him, -- did you not, +His notice sudden is. + +The grass divides as with a comb, +A spotted shaft is seen; +And then it closes at your feet +And opens further on. + +He likes a boggy acre, +A floor too cool for corn. +Yet when a child, and barefoot, +I more than once, at morn, + +Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash +Unbraiding in the sun, -- +When, stooping to secure it, +It wrinkled, and was gone. + +Several of nature's people +I know, and they know me; +I feel for them a transport +Of cordiality; + +But never met this fellow, +Attended or alone, +Without a tighter breathing, +And zero at the bone. + + + + + +XXV. + +THE MUSHROOM. + +The mushroom is the elf of plants, +At evening it is not; +At morning in a truffled hut +It stops upon a spot + +As if it tarried always; +And yet its whole career +Is shorter than a snake's delay, +And fleeter than a tare. + +'T is vegetation's juggler, +The germ of alibi; +Doth like a bubble antedate, +And like a bubble hie. + +I feel as if the grass were pleased +To have it intermit; +The surreptitious scion +Of summer's circumspect. + +Had nature any outcast face, +Could she a son contemn, +Had nature an Iscariot, +That mushroom, -- it is him. + + + + + +XXVI. + +THE STORM. + +There came a wind like a bugle; +It quivered through the grass, +And a green chill upon the heat +So ominous did pass +We barred the windows and the doors +As from an emerald ghost; +The doom's electric moccason +That very instant passed. +On a strange mob of panting trees, +And fences fled away, +And rivers where the houses ran +The living looked that day. +The bell within the steeple wild +The flying tidings whirled. +How much can come +And much can go, +And yet abide the world! + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE SPIDER. + +A spider sewed at night +Without a light +Upon an arc of white. +If ruff it was of dame +Or shroud of gnome, +Himself, himself inform. +Of immortality +His strategy +Was physiognomy. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I know a place where summer strives +With such a practised frost, +She each year leads her daisies back, +Recording briefly, "Lost." + +But when the south wind stirs the pools +And struggles in the lanes, +Her heart misgives her for her vow, +And she pours soft refrains + +Into the lap of adamant, +And spices, and the dew, +That stiffens quietly to quartz, +Upon her amber shoe. + + + + + +XXIX. + +The one that could repeat the summer day +Were greater than itself, though he +Minutest of mankind might be. +And who could reproduce the sun, +At period of going down -- +The lingering and the stain, I mean -- +When Orient has been outgrown, +And Occident becomes unknown, +His name remain. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE WIND'S VISIT. + +The wind tapped like a tired man, +And like a host, "Come in," +I boldly answered; entered then +My residence within + +A rapid, footless guest, +To offer whom a chair +Were as impossible as hand +A sofa to the air. + +No bone had he to bind him, +His speech was like the push +Of numerous humming-birds at once +From a superior bush. + +His countenance a billow, +His fingers, if he pass, +Let go a music, as of tunes +Blown tremulous in glass. + +He visited, still flitting; +Then, like a timid man, +Again he tapped -- 't was flurriedly -- +And I became alone. + + + + + +XXXI. + +Nature rarer uses yellow + Than another hue; +Saves she all of that for sunsets, -- + Prodigal of blue, + +Spending scarlet like a woman, + Yellow she affords +Only scantly and selectly, + Like a lover's words. + + + + + +XXXII. + +GOSSIP. + +The leaves, like women, interchange + Sagacious confidence; +Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of + Portentous inference, + +The parties in both cases + Enjoining secrecy, -- +Inviolable compact + To notoriety. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +SIMPLICITY. + +How happy is the little stone +That rambles in the road alone, +And doesn't care about careers, +And exigencies never fears; +Whose coat of elemental brown +A passing universe put on; +And independent as the sun, +Associates or glows alone, +Fulfilling absolute decree +In casual simplicity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +STORM. + +It sounded as if the streets were running, +And then the streets stood still. +Eclipse was all we could see at the window, +And awe was all we could feel. + +By and by the boldest stole out of his covert, +To see if time was there. +Nature was in her beryl apron, +Mixing fresher air. + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE RAT. + +The rat is the concisest tenant. +He pays no rent, -- +Repudiates the obligation, +On schemes intent. + +Balking our wit +To sound or circumvent, +Hate cannot harm +A foe so reticent. + +Neither decree +Prohibits him, +Lawful as +Equilibrium. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +Frequently the woods are pink, +Frequently are brown; +Frequently the hills undress +Behind my native town. + +Oft a head is crested +I was wont to see, +And as oft a cranny +Where it used to be. + +And the earth, they tell me, +On its axis turned, -- +Wonderful rotation +By but twelve performed! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +A THUNDER-STORM. + +The wind begun to rock the grass +With threatening tunes and low, -- +He flung a menace at the earth, +A menace at the sky. + +The leaves unhooked themselves from trees +And started all abroad; +The dust did scoop itself like hands +And throw away the road. + +The wagons quickened on the streets, +The thunder hurried slow; +The lightning showed a yellow beak, +And then a livid claw. + +The birds put up the bars to nests, +The cattle fled to barns; +There came one drop of giant rain, +And then, as if the hands + +That held the dams had parted hold, +The waters wrecked the sky, +But overlooked my father's house, +Just quartering a tree. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +South winds jostle them, +Bumblebees come, +Hover, hesitate, +Drink, and are gone. + +Butterflies pause +On their passage Cashmere; +I, softly plucking, +Present them here! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SUNSET. + +Where ships of purple gently toss +On seas of daffodil, +Fantastic sailors mingle, +And then -- the wharf is still. + + + + + +XL. + +She sweeps with many-colored brooms, +And leaves the shreds behind; +Oh, housewife in the evening west, +Come back, and dust the pond! + +You dropped a purple ravelling in, +You dropped an amber thread; +And now you 've littered all the East +With duds of emerald! + +And still she plies her spotted brooms, +And still the aprons fly, +Till brooms fade softly into stars -- +And then I come away. + + + + + +XLI. + +Like mighty footlights burned the red +At bases of the trees, -- +The far theatricals of day +Exhibiting to these. + +'T was universe that did applaud +While, chiefest of the crowd, +Enabled by his royal dress, +Myself distinguished God. + + + + + +XLII. + +PROBLEMS. + +Bring me the sunset in a cup, +Reckon the morning's flagons up, + And say how many dew; +Tell me how far the morning leaps, +Tell me what time the weaver sleeps + Who spun the breadths of blue! + +Write me how many notes there be +In the new robin's ecstasy + Among astonished boughs; +How many trips the tortoise makes, +How many cups the bee partakes, -- + The debauchee of dews! + +Also, who laid the rainbow's piers, +Also, who leads the docile spheres + By withes of supple blue? +Whose fingers string the stalactite, +Who counts the wampum of the night, + To see that none is due? + +Who built this little Alban house +And shut the windows down so close + My spirit cannot see? +Who 'll let me out some gala day, +With implements to fly away, + Passing pomposity? + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE JUGGLER OF DAY. + +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 otter's window, +Touching the roof and tinting the barn, +Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, -- +And the juggler of day is gone! + + + + +XLIV. + +MY CRICKET. + +Farther in summer than the birds, +Pathetic from the grass, +A minor nation celebrates +Its unobtrusive mass. + +No ordinance is seen, +So gradual the grace, +A pensive custom it becomes, +Enlarging loneliness. + +Antiquest felt at noon +When August, burning low, +Calls forth this spectral canticle, +Repose to typify. + +Remit as yet no grace, +No furrow on the glow, +Yet a druidic difference +Enhances nature now. + + + + +XLV. + +As imperceptibly as grief +The summer lapsed away, -- +Too imperceptible, at last, +To seem like perfidy. + +A quietness distilled, +As twilight long begun, +Or Nature, spending with herself +Sequestered afternoon. + +The dusk drew earlier in, +The morning foreign shone, -- +A courteous, yet harrowing grace, +As guest who would be gone. + +And thus, without a wing, +Or service of a keel, +Our summer made her light escape +Into the beautiful. + + + + + +XLVI. + +It can't be summer, -- that got through; +It 's early yet for spring; +There 's that long town of white to cross +Before the blackbirds sing. + +It can't be dying, -- it's too rouge, -- +The dead shall go in white. +So sunset shuts my question down +With clasps of chrysolite. + + + + + +XLVII. + +SUMMER'S OBSEQUIES. + +The gentian weaves her fringes, +The maple's loom is red. +My departing blossoms +Obviate parade. + +A brief, but patient illness, +An hour to prepare; +And one, below this morning, +Is where the angels are. + +It was a short procession, -- +The bobolink was there, +An aged bee addressed us, +And then we knelt in prayer. + +We trust that she was willing, -- +We ask that we may be. +Summer, sister, seraph, +Let us go with thee! + +In the name of the bee +And of the butterfly +And of the breeze, amen! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +FRINGED GENTIAN. + +God made a little gentian; +It tried to be a rose +And failed, and all the summer laughed. +But just before the snows +There came a purple creature +That ravished all the hill; +And summer hid her forehead, +And mockery was still. +The frosts were her condition; +The Tyrian would not come +Until the North evoked it. +"Creator! shall I bloom?" + + + + + +XLIX. + +NOVEMBER. + +Besides the autumn poets sing, +A few prosaic days +A little this side of the snow +And that side of the haze. + +A few incisive mornings, +A few ascetic eyes, -- +Gone Mr. Bryant's golden-rod, +And Mr. Thomson's sheaves. + +Still is the bustle in the brook, +Sealed are the spicy valves; +Mesmeric fingers softly touch +The eyes of many elves. + +Perhaps a squirrel may remain, +My sentiments to share. +Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind, +Thy windy will to bear! + + + + + +L. + +THE SNOW. + +It sifts from leaden sieves, +It powders all the wood, +It fills with alabaster wool +The wrinkles of the road. + +It makes an even face +Of mountain and of plain, -- +Unbroken forehead from the east +Unto the east again. + +It reaches to the fence, +It wraps it, rail by rail, +Till it is lost in fleeces; +It flings a crystal veil + +On stump and stack and stem, -- +The summer's empty room, +Acres of seams where harvests were, +Recordless, but for them. + +It ruffles wrists of posts, +As ankles of a queen, -- +Then stills its artisans like ghosts, +Denying they have been. + + + + + +LI. + +THE BLUE JAY. + +No brigadier throughout the year +So civic as the jay. +A neighbor and a warrior too, +With shrill felicity + +Pursuing winds that censure us +A February day, +The brother of the universe +Was never blown away. + +The snow and he are intimate; +I 've often seen them play +When heaven looked upon us all +With such severity, + +I felt apology were due +To an insulted sky, +Whose pompous frown was nutriment +To their temerity. + +The pillow of this daring head +Is pungent evergreens; +His larder -- terse and militant -- +Unknown, refreshing things; + +His character a tonic, +His future a dispute; +Unfair an immortality +That leaves this neighbor out. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + + +I. + +Let down the bars, O Death! +The tired flocks come in +Whose bleating ceases to repeat, +Whose wandering is done. + +Thine is the stillest night, +Thine the securest fold; +Too near thou art for seeking thee, +Too tender to be told. + + + + + +II. + +Going to heaven! +I don't know when, +Pray do not ask me how, -- +Indeed, I 'm 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 shepherd's arm! + +Perhaps you 're going too! +Who knows? +If you should get there first, +Save just a little place 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. + +I 'm glad I don't believe it, +For it would stop my breath, +And I 'd like to look a little more +At such a curious earth! +I am glad they did believe it +Whom I have never found +Since the mighty autumn afternoon +I left them in the ground. + + + + + +III. + +At least to pray is left, is left. +O Jesus! in the air +I know not which thy chamber is, -- +I 'm knocking everywhere. + +Thou stirrest earthquake in the South, +And maelstrom in the sea; +Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, +Hast thou no arm for me? + + + + + +IV. + +EPITAPH. + +Step lightly on this narrow spot! +The broadest land that grows +Is not so ample as the breast +These emerald seams enclose. + +Step lofty; for this name is told +As far as cannon dwell, +Or flag subsist, or fame export +Her deathless syllable. + + + + + +V. + +Morns like these we parted; +Noons like these she rose, +Fluttering first, then firmer, +To her fair repose. + +Never did she lisp it, +And 't was not for me; +She was mute from transport, +I, from agony! + +Till the evening, nearing, +One the shutters drew -- +Quick! a sharper rustling! +And this linnet flew! + + + + + +VI. + +A death-blow is a life-blow to some +Who, till they died, did not alive become; +Who, had they lived, had died, but when +They died, vitality begun. + + + + + +VII. + +I read my sentence steadily, +Reviewed it with my eyes, +To see that I made no mistake +In its extremest clause, -- + +The date, and manner of the shame; +And then the pious form +That "God have mercy" on the soul +The jury voted him. + +I made my soul familiar +With her extremity, +That at the last it should not be +A novel agony, + +But she and Death, acquainted, +Meet tranquilly as friends, +Salute and pass without a hint -- +And there the matter ends. + + + + + +VIII. + +I have not told my garden yet, +Lest that should conquer me; +I have not quite the strength now +To break it to the bee. + +I will not name it in the street, +For shops would stare, that I, +So shy, so very ignorant, +Should have the face to die. + +The hillsides must not know it, +Where I have rambled so, +Nor tell the loving forests +The day that I shall go, + +Nor lisp it at the table, +Nor heedless by the way +Hint that within the riddle +One will walk to-day! + + + + + +IX. + +THE BATTLE-FIELD. + +They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, + Like petals from a rose, +When suddenly across the June + A wind with fingers goes. + +They perished in the seamless grass, -- + No eye could find the place; +But God on his repealless list + Can summon every face. + + + + + +X. + +The only ghost I ever saw +Was dressed in mechlin, -- so; +He wore no sandal on his foot, +And stepped like flakes of snow. +His gait was soundless, like the bird, +But rapid, like the roe; +His fashions quaint, mosaic, +Or, haply, mistletoe. + +His conversation seldom, +His laughter like the breeze +That dies away in dimples +Among the pensive trees. +Our interview was transient,-- +Of me, himself was shy; +And God forbid I look behind +Since that appalling day! + + + + + +XI. + +Some, too fragile for winter winds, +The thoughtful grave encloses, -- +Tenderly tucking them in from frost +Before their feet are cold. + +Never the treasures in her nest +The cautious grave exposes, +Building where schoolboy dare not look +And sportsman is not bold. + +This covert have all the children +Early aged, and often cold, -- +Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; +Lambs for whom time had not a fold. + + + + + +XII. + +As by the dead we love to sit, +Become so wondrous dear, +As for the lost we grapple, +Though all the rest are here, -- + +In broken mathematics +We estimate our prize, +Vast, in its fading ratio, +To our penurious eyes! + + + + + +XIII. + +MEMORIALS. + +Death sets a thing significant +The eye had hurried by, +Except a perished creature +Entreat us tenderly + +To ponder little workmanships +In crayon or in wool, +With "This was last her fingers did," +Industrious until + +The thimble weighed too heavy, +The stitches stopped themselves, +And then 't was put among the dust +Upon the closet shelves. + +A book I have, a friend gave, +Whose pencil, here and there, +Had notched the place that pleased him, -- +At rest his fingers are. + +Now, when I read, I read not, +For interrupting tears +Obliterate the etchings +Too costly for repairs. + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to heaven, -- +'T was a small town, +Lit with a ruby, +Lathed with down. +Stiller than the fields +At the full dew, +Beautiful as pictures +No man drew. +People like the moth, +Of mechlin, frames, +Duties of gossamer, +And eider names. +Almost contented +I could be +'Mong such unique +Society. + + + + + +XV. + +Their height in heaven comforts not, +Their glory nought to me; +'T was best imperfect, as it was; +I 'm finite, I can't see. + +The house of supposition, +The glimmering frontier +That skirts the acres of perhaps, +To me shows insecure. + +The wealth I had contented me; +If 't was a meaner size, +Then I had counted it until +It pleased my narrow eyes + +Better than larger values, +However true their show; +This timid life of evidence +Keeps pleading, "I don't know." + + + + + +XVI. + +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 this involves the grave. + + + + + +XVII. + +TRIUMPH. + +Triumph may be of several kinds. +There 's triumph in the room +When that old imperator, Death, +By faith is overcome. + +There 's triumph of the finer mind +When truth, affronted long, +Advances calm to her supreme, +Her God her only throng. + +A triumph when temptation's bribe +Is slowly handed back, +One eye upon the heaven renounced +And one upon the rack. + +Severer triumph, by himself +Experienced, who can pass +Acquitted from that naked bar, +Jehovah's countenance! + + + + + +XVIII. + +Pompless no life can pass away; + The lowliest career +To the same pageant wends its way + As that exalted here. +How cordial is the mystery! + The hospitable pall +A "this way" beckons spaciously, -- + A miracle for all! + + + + + +XIX. + +I noticed people disappeared, +When but a little child, -- +Supposed they visited remote, +Or settled regions wild. + +Now know I they both visited +And settled regions wild, +But did because they died, -- a fact +Withheld the little child! + + + + + +XX. + +FOLLOWING. + +I had no cause to be awake, +My best was gone to sleep, +And morn a new politeness took, +And failed to wake them up, + +But called the others clear, +And passed their curtains by. +Sweet morning, when I over-sleep, +Knock, recollect, for me! + +I looked at sunrise once, +And then I looked at them, +And wishfulness in me arose +For circumstance the same. + +'T was such an ample peace, +It could not hold a sigh, -- +'T was Sabbath with the bells divorced, +'T was sunset all the day. + +So choosing but a gown +And taking but a prayer, +The only raiment I should need, +I struggled, and was there. + + + + + +XXI. + +If anybody's friend be dead, +It 's sharpest of the theme +The thinking how they walked alive, +At such and such a time. + +Their costume, of a Sunday, +Some manner of the hair, -- +A prank nobody knew but them, +Lost, in the sepulchre. + +How warm they were on such a day: +You almost feel the date, +So short way off it seems; and now, +They 're centuries from that. + +How pleased they were at what you said; +You try to touch the smile, +And dip your fingers in the frost: +When was it, can you tell, + +You asked the company to tea, +Acquaintance, just a few, +And chatted close with this grand thing +That don't remember you? + +Past bows and invitations, +Past interview, and vow, +Past what ourselves can estimate, -- +That makes the quick of woe! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE JOURNEY. + +Our journey had advanced; +Our feet were almost come +To that odd fork in Being's road, +Eternity by term. + +Our pace took sudden awe, +Our feet reluctant led. +Before were cities, but between, +The forest of the dead. + +Retreat was out of hope, -- +Behind, a sealed route, +Eternity's white flag before, +And God at every gate. + + + + + +XXIII. + +A COUNTRY BURIAL. + +Ample make this bed. +Make this bed with awe; +In it wait till judgment break +Excellent and fair. + +Be its mattress straight, +Be its pillow round; +Let no sunrise' yellow noise +Interrupt this ground. + + + + + +XXIV. + +GOING. + +On such a night, or such a night, +Would anybody care +If such a little figure +Slipped quiet from its chair, + +So quiet, oh, how quiet! +That nobody might know +But that the little figure +Rocked softer, to and fro? + +On such a dawn, or such a dawn, +Would anybody sigh +That such a little figure +Too sound asleep did lie + +For chanticleer to wake it, -- +Or stirring house below, +Or giddy bird in orchard, +Or early task to do? + +There was a little figure plump +For every little knoll, +Busy needles, and spools of thread, +And trudging feet from school. + +Playmates, and holidays, and nuts, +And visions vast and small. +Strange that the feet so precious charged +Should reach so small a goal! + + + + + +XXV. + +Essential oils are wrung: +The attar from the rose +Is not expressed by suns alone, +It is the gift of screws. + +The general rose decays; +But this, in lady's drawer, +Makes summer when the lady lies +In ceaseless rosemary. + + + + +XXVI. + +I lived on dread; to those who know +The stimulus there is +In danger, other impetus +Is numb and vital-less. + +As 't were a spur upon the soul, +A fear will urge it where +To go without the spectre's aid +Were challenging despair. + + + + + +XXVII. + +If I should die, +And you should live, +And time should gurgle on, +And morn should beam, +And noon should burn, +As it has usual done; +If birds should build as early, +And bees as bustling go, -- +One might depart at option +From enterprise below! +'T is sweet to know that stocks will stand +When we with daisies lie, +That commerce will continue, +And trades as briskly fly. +It makes the parting tranquil +And keeps the soul serene, +That gentlemen so sprightly +Conduct the pleasing scene! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AT LENGTH. + +Her final summer was it, +And yet we guessed it not; +If tenderer industriousness +Pervaded her, we thought + +A further force of life +Developed from within, -- +When Death lit all the shortness up, +And made the hurry plain. + +We wondered at our blindness, -- +When nothing was to see +But her Carrara guide-post, -- +At our stupidity, + +When, duller than our dullness, +The busy darling lay, +So busy was she, finishing, +So leisurely were we! + + + + + +XXIX. + +GHOSTS. + +One need not be a chamber to be haunted, +One need not be a house; +The brain has corridors surpassing +Material place. + +Far safer, of a midnight meeting +External ghost, +Than an interior confronting +That whiter host. + +Far safer through an Abbey gallop, +The stones achase, +Than, moonless, one's own self encounter +In lonesome place. + +Ourself, behind ourself concealed, +Should startle most; +Assassin, hid in our apartment, +Be horror's least. + +The prudent carries a revolver, +He bolts the door, +O'erlooking a superior spectre +More near. + + + + + +XXX. + +VANISHED. + +She died, -- this was the way she died; +And when her breath was done, +Took up her simple wardrobe +And started for the sun. + +Her little figure at the gate +The angels must have spied, +Since I could never find her +Upon the mortal side. + + + + + +XXXI. + +PRECEDENCE. + +Wait till the majesty of Death +Invests so mean a brow! +Almost a powdered footman +Might dare to touch it now! + +Wait till in everlasting robes +This democrat is dressed, +Then prate about "preferment" +And "station" and the rest! + +Around this quiet courtier +Obsequious angels wait! +Full royal is his retinue, +Full purple is his state! + +A lord might dare to lift the hat +To such a modest clay, +Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords" +Receives unblushingly! + + + + + +XXXII. + +GONE. + +Went up a year this evening! +I recollect it well! +Amid no bells nor bravos +The bystanders will tell! +Cheerful, as to the village, +Tranquil, as to repose, +Chastened, as to the chapel, +This humble tourist rose. +Did not talk of returning, +Alluded to no time +When, were the gales propitious, +We might look for him; +Was grateful for the roses +In life's diverse bouquet, +Talked softly of new species +To pick another day. + +Beguiling thus the wonder, +The wondrous nearer drew; +Hands bustled at the moorings -- +The crowd respectful grew. +Ascended from our vision +To countenances new! +A difference, a daisy, +Is all the rest I knew! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +REQUIEM. + +Taken from men this morning, +Carried by men to-day, +Met by the gods with banners +Who marshalled her away. + +One little maid from playmates, +One little mind from school, -- +There must be guests in Eden; +All the rooms are full. + +Far as the east from even, +Dim as the border star, -- +Courtiers quaint, in kingdoms, +Our departed are. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +What inn is this +Where for the night +Peculiar traveller comes? +Who is the landlord? +Where the maids? +Behold, what curious rooms! +No ruddy fires on the hearth, +No brimming tankards flow. +Necromancer, landlord, +Who are these below? + + + + + +XXXV. + +It was not death, for I stood up, +And all the dead lie down; +It was not night, for all the bells +Put out their tongues, for noon. + +It was not frost, for on my flesh +I felt siroccos crawl, -- +Nor fire, for just my marble feet +Could keep a chancel cool. + +And yet it tasted like them all; +The figures I have seen +Set orderly, for burial, +Reminded me of mine, + +As if my life were shaven +And fitted to a frame, +And could not breathe without a key; +And 't was like midnight, some, + +When everything that ticked has stopped, +And space stares, all around, +Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, +Repeal the beating ground. + +But most like chaos, -- stopless, cool, -- +Without a chance or spar, +Or even a report of land +To justify despair. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +TILL THE END. + +I should not dare to leave my friend, +Because -- because if he should die +While I was gone, and I -- too late -- +Should reach the heart that wanted me; + +If I should disappoint the eyes +That hunted, hunted so, to see, +And could not bear to shut until +They "noticed" me -- they noticed me; + +If I should stab the patient faith +So sure I 'd come -- so sure I 'd come, +It listening, listening, went to sleep +Telling my tardy name, -- + +My heart would wish it broke before, +Since breaking then, since breaking then, +Were useless as next morning's sun, +Where midnight frosts had lain! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +VOID. + +Great streets of silence led away +To neighborhoods of pause; +Here was no notice, no dissent, +No universe, no laws. + +By clocks 't was morning, and for night +The bells at distance called; +But epoch had no basis here, +For period exhaled. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +A throe upon the features +A hurry in the breath, +An ecstasy of parting +Denominated "Death," -- + +An anguish at the mention, +Which, when to patience grown, +I 've known permission given +To rejoin its own. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SAVED! + +Of tribulation these are they +Denoted by the white; +The spangled gowns, a lesser rank +Of victors designate. + +All these did conquer; but the ones +Who overcame most times +Wear nothing commoner than snow, +No ornament but palms. + +Surrender is a sort unknown +On this superior soil; +Defeat, an outgrown anguish, +Remembered as the mile + +Our panting ankle barely gained +When night devoured the road; +But we stood whispering in the house, +And all we said was "Saved"! + + + + + +XL. + +I think just how my shape will rise +When I shall be forgiven, +Till hair and eyes and timid head +Are out of sight, in heaven. + +I think just how my lips will weigh +With shapeless, quivering prayer +That you, so late, consider me, +The sparrow of your care. + +I mind me that of anguish sent, +Some drifts were moved away +Before my simple bosom broke, -- +And why not this, if they? + +And so, until delirious borne +I con that thing, -- "forgiven," -- +Till with long fright and longer trust +I drop my heart, unshriven! + + + + + +XLI. + +THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. + +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. + + + + + +XLII. + +Lay this laurel on the one +Too intrinsic for renown. +Laurel! veil your deathless tree, -- +Him you chasten, that is he! + + + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Third Series + + + + +Edited by + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD + + + + It's all I have to bring to-day, + This, and my heart beside, + This, and my heart, and all the fields, + And all the meadows wide. + Be sure you count, should I forget, -- + Some one the sum could tell, -- + This, and my heart, and all the bees + Which in the clover dwell. + + + +PREFACE. + +The intellectual activity of Emily Dickinson was so great that +a large and characteristic choice is still possible among her +literary material, and this third volume of her verses is put +forth in response to the repeated wish of the admirers of her +peculiar genius. Much of Emily Dickinson's prose was rhythmic, +--even rhymed, though frequently not set apart in lines. + +Also many verses, written as such, were sent to friends in +letters; these were published in 1894, in the volumes of her +_Letters_. It has not been necessary, however, to include them in +this Series, and all have been omitted, except three or four +exceptionally strong ones, as "A Book," and "With Flowers." + +There is internal evidence that many of the poems were simply +spontaneous flashes of insight, apparently unrelated to outward +circumstance. Others, however, had an obvious personal origin; +for example, the verses "I had a Guinea golden," which seem to +have been sent to some friend travelling in Europe, as a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. The surroundings in +which any of Emily Dickinson's verses are known to have been +written usually serve to explain them clearly; but in general the +present volume is full of thoughts needing no interpretation to +those who apprehend this scintillating spirit. + + M. L. T. + +AMHERST, _October_, 1896. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +REAL RICHES. + +'T is little I could care for pearls + Who own the ample sea; +Or brooches, when the Emperor + With rubies pelteth me; + +Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines; + Or diamonds, when I see +A diadem to fit a dome + Continual crowning me. + + + + + +II. + +SUPERIORITY TO FATE. + +Superiority to fate + Is difficult to learn. +'T is not conferred by any, + But possible to earn + +A pittance at a time, + Until, to her surprise, +The soul with strict economy + Subsists till Paradise. + + + + + +III. + +HOPE. + +Hope is a subtle glutton; + He feeds upon the fair; +And yet, inspected closely, + What abstinence is there! + +His is the halcyon table + That never seats but one, +And whatsoever is consumed + The same amounts remain. + + + + + +IV. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +I. + +Forbidden fruit a flavor has + That lawful orchards mocks; +How luscious lies the pea within + The pod that Duty locks! + + + + + +V. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +II. + +Heaven is what I cannot reach! + The apple on the tree, +Provided it do hopeless hang, + That 'heaven' is, to me. + +The color on the cruising cloud, + The interdicted ground +Behind the hill, the house behind, -- + There Paradise is found! + + + + + +VI. + +A WORD. + +A word is dead +When it is said, + Some say. +I say it just +Begins to live + That day. + + + + + +VII. + +To venerate the simple days + Which lead the seasons by, +Needs but to remember + That from you or me +They may take the trifle + Termed mortality! + +To invest existence with a stately air, +Needs but to remember + That the acorn there +Is the egg of forests + For the upper air! + + + + + +VIII. + +LIFE'S TRADES. + +It's such a little thing to weep, + So short a thing to sigh; +And yet by trades the size of these + We men and women die! + + + + + +IX. + +Drowning is not so pitiful + As the attempt to rise. +Three times, 't is said, a sinking man + Comes up to face the skies, +And then declines forever + To that abhorred abode +Where hope and he part company, -- + For he is grasped of God. +The Maker's cordial visage, + However good to see, +Is shunned, we must admit it, + Like an adversity. + + + + + +X. + +How still the bells in steeples stand, + Till, swollen with the sky, +They leap upon their silver feet + In frantic melody! + + + + + +XI. + +If the foolish call them 'flowers,' + Need the wiser tell? +If the savans 'classify' them, + It is just as well! + +Those who read the Revelations + Must not criticise +Those who read the same edition + With beclouded eyes! + +Could we stand with that old Moses + Canaan denied, -- +Scan, like him, the stately landscape + On the other side, -- + +Doubtless we should deem superfluous + Many sciences +Not pursued by learnèd angels + In scholastic skies! + +Low amid that glad _Belles lettres_ + Grant that we may stand, +Stars, amid profound Galaxies, + At that grand 'Right hand'! + + + + + +XII. + +A SYLLABLE. + +Could mortal lip divine + The undeveloped freight +Of a delivered syllable, + 'T would crumble with the weight. + + + + + +XIII. + +PARTING. + +My life closed twice before its close; + It yet remains to see +If Immortality unveil + A third event to me, + +So huge, so hopeless to conceive, + As these that twice befell. +Parting is all we know of heaven, + And all we need of hell. + + + + + +XIV. + +ASPIRATION. + +We never know how high we are + Till we are called to rise; +And then, if we are true to plan, + Our statures touch the skies. + +The heroism we recite + Would be a daily thing, +Did not ourselves the cubits warp + For fear to be a king. + + + + + +XV. + +THE INEVITABLE. + +While I was fearing it, it came, + But came with less of fear, +Because that fearing it so long + Had almost made it dear. +There is a fitting a dismay, + A fitting a despair. +'Tis harder knowing it is due, + Than knowing it is here. +The trying on the utmost, + The morning it is new, +Is terribler than wearing it + A whole existence through. + + + + + +XVI. + +A BOOK. + +There is no frigate like a book + To take us lands away, +Nor any coursers like a page + Of prancing poetry. +This traverse may the poorest take + Without oppress of toll; +How frugal is the chariot + That bears a human soul! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who has not found the heaven below + Will fail of it above. +God's residence is next to mine, + His furniture is love. + + + + + +XVIII. + +A PORTRAIT. + +A face devoid of love or grace, + A hateful, hard, successful face, +A face with which a stone + Would feel as thoroughly at ease +As were they old acquaintances, -- + First time together thrown. + + + + + +XIX. + +I HAD A GUINEA GOLDEN. + +I had a guinea golden; + I lost it in the sand, +And though the sum was simple, + And pounds were in the land, +Still had it such a value + Unto my frugal eye, +That when I could not find it + I sat me down to sigh. + +I had a crimson robin + Who sang full many a day, +But when the woods were painted + He, too, did fly away. +Time brought me other robins, -- + Their ballads were the same, -- +Still for my missing troubadour + I kept the 'house at hame.' + +I had a star in heaven; + One Pleiad was its name, +And when I was not heeding + It wandered from the same. +And though the skies are crowded, + And all the night ashine, +I do not care about it, + Since none of them are mine. + +My story has a moral: + I have a missing friend, -- +Pleiad its name, and robin, + And guinea in the sand, -- +And when this mournful ditty, + Accompanied with tear, +Shall meet the eye of traitor + In country far from here, +Grant that repentance solemn + May seize upon his mind, +And he no consolation + Beneath the sun may find. + +NOTE. -- This poem may have had, like many others, a +personal origin. It is more than probable that it was +sent to some friend travelling in Europe, a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. + + + + + +XX. + +SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + +From all the jails the boys and girls + Ecstatically leap, -- +Beloved, only afternoon + That prison doesn't keep. + +They storm the earth and stun the air, + A mob of solid bliss. +Alas! that frowns could lie in wait + For such a foe as this! + + + + + + +XXI. + +Few get enough, -- enough is one; + To that ethereal throng +Have not each one of us the right + To stealthily belong? + + + + + +XXII. + +Upon the gallows hung a wretch, + Too sullied for the hell +To which the law entitled him. + As nature's curtain fell +The one who bore him tottered in, + For this was woman's son. +''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped; + Oh, what a livid boon! + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE LOST THOUGHT. + +I felt a clearing in my mind + As if my brain had split; +I tried to match it, seam by seam, + But could not make them fit. + +The thought behind I strove to join + Unto the thought before, +But sequence ravelled out of reach + Like balls upon a floor. + + + + + +XXIV. + +RETICENCE. + +The reticent volcano keeps + His never slumbering plan; +Confided are his projects pink + To no precarious man. + +If nature will not tell the tale + Jehovah told to her, +Can human nature not survive + Without a listener? + +Admonished by her buckled lips + Let every babbler be. +The only secret people keep + Is Immortality. + + + + + +XXV. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +If recollecting were forgetting, + Then I remember not; +And if forgetting, recollecting, + How near I had forgot! +And if to miss were merry, + And if to mourn were gay, +How very blithe the fingers + That gathered these to-day! + + + + + +XXVI. + +The farthest thunder that I heard + Was nearer than the sky, +And rumbles still, though torrid noons + Have lain their missiles by. +The lightning that preceded it + Struck no one but myself, +But I would not exchange the bolt + For all the rest of life. +Indebtedness to oxygen + The chemist may repay, +But not the obligation + To electricity. +It founds the homes and decks the days, + And every clamor bright +Is but the gleam concomitant + Of that waylaying light. +The thought is quiet as a flake, -- + A crash without a sound; +How life's reverberation + Its explanation found! + + + + + +XXVII. + +On the bleakness of my lot + Bloom I strove to raise. +Late, my acre of a rock + Yielded grape and maize. + +Soil of flint if steadfast tilled + Will reward the hand; +Seed of palm by Lybian sun + Fructified in sand. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +CONTRAST. + +A door just opened on a street -- + I, lost, was passing by -- +An instant's width of warmth disclosed, + And wealth, and company. + +The door as sudden shut, and I, + I, lost, was passing by, -- +Lost doubly, but by contrast most, + Enlightening misery. + + + + + + +XXIX. + +FRIENDS. + +Are friends delight or pain? + Could bounty but remain +Riches were good. + +But if they only stay +Bolder to fly away, + Riches are sad. + + + + + + +XXX. + +FIRE. + +Ashes denote that fire was; + Respect the grayest pile +For the departed creature's sake + That hovered there awhile. + +Fire exists the first in light, + And then consolidates, -- +Only the chemist can disclose + Into what carbonates. + + + + + +XXXI. + +A MAN. + +Fate slew him, but he did not drop; + She felled -- he did not fall -- +Impaled him on her fiercest stakes -- + He neutralized them all. + +She stung him, sapped his firm advance, + But, when her worst was done, +And he, unmoved, regarded her, + Acknowledged him a man. + + + + + +XXXII. + +VENTURES. + +Finite to fail, but infinite to venture. + For the one ship that struts the shore +Many's the gallant, overwhelmed creature + Nodding in navies nevermore. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +GRIEFS. + +I measure every grief I meet + With analytic eyes; +I wonder if it weighs like mine, + Or has an easier size. + +I wonder if they bore it long, + Or did it just begin? +I could not tell the date of mine, + It feels so old a pain. + +I wonder if it hurts to live, + And if they have to try, +And whether, could they choose between, + They would not rather die. + +I wonder if when years have piled -- + Some thousands -- on the cause +Of early hurt, if such a lapse + Could give them any pause; + +Or would they go on aching still + Through centuries above, +Enlightened to a larger pain + By contrast with the love. + +The grieved are many, I am told; + The reason deeper lies, -- +Death is but one and comes but once, + And only nails the eyes. + +There's grief of want, and grief of cold, -- + A sort they call 'despair;' +There's banishment from native eyes, + In sight of native air. + +And though I may not guess the kind + Correctly, yet to me +A piercing comfort it affords + In passing Calvary, + +To note the fashions of the cross, + Of those that stand alone, +Still fascinated to presume + That some are like my own. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +I have a king who does not speak; +So, wondering, thro' the hours meek + I trudge the day away,-- +Half glad when it is night and sleep, +If, haply, thro' a dream to peep + In parlors shut by day. + +And if I do, when morning comes, +It is as if a hundred drums + Did round my pillow roll, +And shouts fill all my childish sky, +And bells keep saying 'victory' + From steeples in my soul! + +And if I don't, the little Bird +Within the Orchard is not heard, + And I omit to pray, +'Father, thy will be done' to-day, +For my will goes the other way, + And it were perjury! + + + + + +XXXV. + +DISENCHANTMENT. + +It dropped so low in my regard + I heard it hit the ground, +And go to pieces on the stones + At bottom of my mind; + +Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less + Than I reviled myself +For entertaining plated wares + Upon my silver shelf. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST FAITH. + +To lose one's faith surpasses + The loss of an estate, +Because estates can be + Replenished, -- faith cannot. + +Inherited with life, + Belief but once can be; +Annihilate a single clause, + And Being's beggary. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +LOST JOY. + +I had a daily bliss + I half indifferent viewed, +Till sudden I perceived it stir, -- + It grew as I pursued, + +Till when, around a crag, + It wasted from my sight, +Enlarged beyond my utmost scope, + I learned its sweetness right. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +I worked for chaff, and earning wheat + Was haughty and betrayed. +What right had fields to arbitrate + In matters ratified? + +I tasted wheat, -- and hated chaff, + And thanked the ample friend; +Wisdom is more becoming viewed + At distance than at hand. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Life, and Death, and Giants + Such as these, are still. +Minor apparatus, hopper of the mill, +Beetle at the candle, + Or a fife's small fame, +Maintain by accident + That they proclaim. + + + + + +XL. + +ALPINE GLOW. + +Our lives are Swiss, -- + So still, so cool, + Till, some odd afternoon, +The Alps neglect their curtains, + And we look farther on. + +Italy stands the other side, + While, like a guard between, +The solemn Alps, +The siren Alps, + Forever intervene! + + + + + +XLI. + +REMEMBRANCE. + +Remembrance has a rear and front, -- + 'T is something like a house; +It has a garret also + For refuse and the mouse, + +Besides, the deepest cellar + That ever mason hewed; +Look to it, by its fathoms + Ourselves be not pursued. + + + + + +XLII. + +To hang our head ostensibly, + And subsequent to find +That such was not the posture + Of our immortal mind, + +Affords the sly presumption + That, in so dense a fuzz, +You, too, take cobweb attitudes + Upon a plane of gauze! + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE BRAIN. + +The brain is wider than the sky, + For, put them side by side, +The one the other will include + With ease, and you beside. + +The brain is deeper than the sea, + For, hold them, blue to blue, +The one the other will absorb, + As sponges, buckets do. + +The brain is just the weight of God, + For, lift them, pound for pound, +And they will differ, if they do, + As syllable from sound. + + + + + +XLIV. + +The bone that has no marrow; + What ultimate for that? +It is not fit for table, + For beggar, or for cat. + +A bone has obligations, + A being has the same; +A marrowless assembly + Is culpabler than shame. + +But how shall finished creatures + A function fresh obtain? -- +Old Nicodemus' phantom + Confronting us again! + + + + + +XLV. + +THE PAST. + +The past is such a curious creature, + To look her in the face +A transport may reward us, + Or a disgrace. + +Unarmed if any meet her, + I charge him, fly! +Her rusty ammunition + Might yet reply! + + + + + +XLVI. + +To help our bleaker parts + Salubrious hours are given, +Which if they do not fit for earth + Drill silently for heaven. + + + + + +XLVII. + +What soft, cherubic creatures + These gentlewomen are! +One would as soon assault a plush + Or violate a star. + +Such dimity convictions, + A horror so refined +Of freckled human nature, + Of Deity ashamed, -- + +It's such a common glory, + A fisherman's degree! +Redemption, brittle lady, + Be so, ashamed of thee. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +DESIRE. + +Who never wanted, -- maddest joy + Remains to him unknown: +The banquet of abstemiousness + Surpasses that of wine. + +Within its hope, though yet ungrasped + Desire's perfect goal, +No nearer, lest reality + Should disenthrall thy soul. + + + + + +XLIX. + +PHILOSOPHY. + +It might be easier + To fail with land in sight, +Than gain my blue peninsula + To perish of delight. + + + + + +L. + +POWER. + +You cannot put a fire out; + A thing that can ignite +Can go, itself, without a fan + Upon the slowest night. + +You cannot fold a flood + And put it in a drawer, -- +Because the winds would find it out, + And tell your cedar floor. + + + + + +LI. + +A modest lot, a fame petite, + A brief campaign of sting and sweet + Is plenty! Is enough! +A sailor's business is the shore, + A soldier's -- balls. Who asketh more +Must seek the neighboring life! + + + + + +LII. + +Is bliss, then, such abyss +I must not put my foot amiss +For fear I spoil my shoe? + +I'd rather suit my foot +Than save my boot, +For yet to buy another pair +Is possible +At any fair. + +But bliss is sold just once; +The patent lost +None buy it any more. + + + + + +LIII. + +EXPERIENCE. + +I stepped from plank to plank + So slow and cautiously; +The stars about my head I felt, + About my feet the sea. + +I knew not but the next + Would be my final inch, -- +This gave me that precarious gait + Some call experience. + + + + + +LIV. + +THANKSGIVING DAY. + +One day is there of the series + Termed Thanksgiving day, +Celebrated part at table, + Part in memory. + +Neither patriarch nor pussy, + I dissect the play; +Seems it, to my hooded thinking, + Reflex holiday. + +Had there been no sharp subtraction + From the early sum, +Not an acre or a caption + Where was once a room, + +Not a mention, whose small pebble + Wrinkled any bay, -- +Unto such, were such assembly, + 'T were Thanksgiving day. + + + + + +LV. + +CHILDISH GRIEFS. + +Softened by Time's consummate plush, + How sleek the woe appears +That threatened childhood's citadel + And undermined the years! + +Bisected now by bleaker griefs, + We envy the despair +That devastated childhood's realm, + So easy to repair. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CONSECRATION. + +Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, + Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, +Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, + Not to partake thy passion, my humility. + + + + + +II. + +LOVE'S HUMILITY. + +My worthiness is all my doubt, + His merit all my fear, +Contrasting which, my qualities + Do lowlier appear; + +Lest I should insufficient prove + For his beloved need, +The chiefest apprehension + Within my loving creed. + +So I, the undivine abode + Of his elect content, +Conform my soul as 't were a church + Unto her sacrament. + + + + + +III. + +LOVE. + +Love is anterior to life, + Posterior to death, +Initial of creation, and + The exponent of breath. + + + + + +IV. + +SATISFIED. + +One blessing had I, than the rest + So larger to my eyes +That I stopped gauging, satisfied, + For this enchanted size. + +It was the limit of my dream, + The focus of my prayer, -- +A perfect, paralyzing bliss + Contented as despair. + +I knew no more of want or cold, + Phantasms both become, +For this new value in the soul, + Supremest earthly sum. + +The heaven below the heaven above + Obscured with ruddier hue. +Life's latitude leant over-full; + The judgment perished, too. + +Why joys so scantily disburse, + Why Paradise defer, +Why floods are served to us in bowls, -- + I speculate no more. + + + + + +V. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +When roses cease to bloom, dear, + And violets are done, +When bumble-bees in solemn flight + Have passed beyond the sun, + +The hand that paused to gather + Upon this summer's day +Will idle lie, in Auburn, -- + Then take my flower, pray! + + + + + +VI. + +SONG. + +Summer for thee grant I may be + When summer days are flown! +Thy music still when whippoorwill + And oriole are done! + +For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb + And sow my blossoms o'er! +Pray gather me, Anemone, + Thy flower forevermore! + + + + + +VII. + +LOYALTY. + +Split the lark and you'll find the music, + Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled, +Scantily dealt to the summer morning, + Saved for your ear when lutes be old. + +Loose the flood, you shall find it patent, + Gush after gush, reserved for you; +Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas, + Now, do you doubt that your bird was true? + + + + + +VIII. + +To lose thee, sweeter than to gain + All other hearts I knew. +'T is true the drought is destitute, + But then I had the dew! + +The Caspian has its realms of sand, + Its other realm of sea; +Without the sterile perquisite + No Caspian could be. + + + + + +IX. + + Poor little heart! + Did they forget thee? +Then dinna care! Then dinna care! + + Proud little heart! + Did they forsake thee? +Be debonair! Be debonair! + + Frail little heart! + I would not break thee: +Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? + + Gay little heart! + Like morning glory +Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be! + + + + + +X. + +FORGOTTEN. + +There is a word + Which bears a sword + Can pierce an armed man. +It hurls its barbed syllables,-- + At once is mute again. +But where it fell +The saved will tell + On patriotic day, +Some epauletted brother + Gave his breath away. + +Wherever runs the breathless sun, + Wherever roams the day, +There is its noiseless onset, + There is its victory! + +Behold the keenest marksman! + The most accomplished shot! +Time's sublimest target + Is a soul 'forgot'! + + + + + +XI. + +I've got an arrow here; + Loving the hand that sent it, +I the dart revere. + +Fell, they will say, in 'skirmish'! + Vanquished, my soul will know, +By but a simple arrow + Sped by an archer's bow. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MASTER. + +He fumbles at your spirit + As players at the keys +Before they drop full music on; + He stuns you by degrees, + +Prepares your brittle substance + For the ethereal blow, +By fainter hammers, further heard, + Then nearer, then so slow + +Your breath has time to straighten, + Your brain to bubble cool, -- +Deals one imperial thunderbolt + That scalps your naked soul. + + + + + +XIII. + +Heart, we will forget him! + You and I, to-night! +You may forget the warmth he gave, + I will forget the light. + +When you have done, pray tell me, + That I my thoughts may dim; +Haste! lest while you're lagging, + I may remember him! + + + + + +XIV. + +Father, I bring thee not myself, -- + That were the little load; +I bring thee the imperial heart + I had not strength to hold. + +The heart I cherished in my own + Till mine too heavy grew, +Yet strangest, heavier since it went, + Is it too large for you? + + + + + +XV. + +We outgrow love like other things + And put it in the drawer, +Till it an antique fashion shows + Like costumes grandsires wore. + + + + + +XVI. + +Not with a club the heart is broken, + Nor with a stone; +A whip, so small you could not see it. + I've known + +To lash the magic creature + Till it fell, +Yet that whip's name too noble + Then to tell. + +Magnanimous of bird + By boy descried, +To sing unto the stone + Of which it died. + + + + + +XVII. + +WHO? + +My friend must be a bird, + Because it flies! +Mortal my friend must be, + Because it dies! +Barbs has it, like a bee. +Ah, curious friend, + Thou puzzlest me! + + + + + +XVIII. + +He touched me, so I live to know +That such a day, permitted so, + I groped upon his breast. +It was a boundless place to me, +And silenced, as the awful sea + Puts minor streams to rest. + +And now, I'm different from before, +As if I breathed superior air, + Or brushed a royal gown; +My feet, too, that had wandered so, +My gypsy face transfigured now + To tenderer renown. + + + + + +XIX. + +DREAMS. + +Let me not mar that perfect dream + By an auroral stain, +But so adjust my daily night + That it will come again. + + + + + +XX. + +NUMEN LUMEN. + +I live with him, I see his face; + I go no more away +For visitor, or sundown; + Death's single privacy, + +The only one forestalling mine, + And that by right that he +Presents a claim invisible, + No wedlock granted me. + +I live with him, I hear his voice, + I stand alive to-day +To witness to the certainty + Of immortality + +Taught me by Time, -- the lower way, + Conviction every day, -- +That life like this is endless, + Be judgment what it may. + + + + + +XXI. + +LONGING. + +I envy seas whereon he rides, + I envy spokes of wheels +Of chariots that him convey, + I envy speechless hills + +That gaze upon his journey; + How easy all can see +What is forbidden utterly + As heaven, unto me! + +I envy nests of sparrows + That dot his distant eaves, +The wealthy fly upon his pane, + The happy, happy leaves + +That just abroad his window + Have summer's leave to be, +The earrings of Pizarro + Could not obtain for me. + +I envy light that wakes him, + And bells that boldly ring +To tell him it is noon abroad, -- + Myself his noon could bring, + +Yet interdict my blossom + And abrogate my bee, +Lest noon in everlasting night + Drop Gabriel and me. + + + + + +XXII. + +WEDDED. + +A solemn thing it was, I said, + A woman white to be, +And wear, if God should count me fit, + Her hallowed mystery. + +A timid thing to drop a life + Into the purple well, +Too plummetless that it come back + Eternity until. + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +NATURE'S CHANGES. + +The springtime's pallid landscape + Will glow like bright bouquet, +Though drifted deep in parian + The village lies to-day. + +The lilacs, bending many a year, + With purple load will hang; +The bees will not forget the tune + Their old forefathers sang. + +The rose will redden in the bog, + The aster on the hill +Her everlasting fashion set, + And covenant gentians frill, + +Till summer folds her miracle + As women do their gown, +Or priests adjust the symbols + When sacrament is done. + + + + + +II. + +THE TULIP. + +She slept beneath a tree + Remembered but by me. +I touched her cradle mute; +She recognized the foot, +Put on her carmine suit, -- + And see! + + + + + +III. + +A light exists in spring + Not present on the year +At any other period. + When March is scarcely here + +A color stands abroad + On solitary hills +That science cannot overtake, + But human nature feels. + +It waits upon the lawn; + It shows the furthest tree +Upon the furthest slope we know; + It almost speaks to me. + +Then, as horizons step, + Or noons report away, +Without the formula of sound, + It passes, and we stay: + +A quality of loss + Affecting our content, +As trade had suddenly encroached + Upon a sacrament. + + + + + +IV. + +THE WAKING YEAR. + +A lady red upon the hill + Her annual secret keeps; +A lady white within the field + In placid lily sleeps! + +The tidy breezes with their brooms + Sweep vale, and hill, and tree! +Prithee, my pretty housewives! + Who may expected be? + +The neighbors do not yet suspect! + The woods exchange a smile -- +Orchard, and buttercup, and bird -- + In such a little while! + +And yet how still the landscape stands, + How nonchalant the wood, +As if the resurrection + Were nothing very odd! + + + + + +V. + +TO MARCH. + +Dear March, come in! +How glad I am! +I looked for you before. +Put down your hat -- +You must have walked -- +How out of breath you are! +Dear March, how are you? +And the rest? +Did you leave Nature well? +Oh, March, come right upstairs with me, +I have so much to tell! + +I got your letter, and the birds'; +The maples never knew +That you were coming, -- I declare, +How red their faces grew! +But, March, forgive me -- +And all those hills +You left for me to hue; +There was no purple suitable, +You took it all with you. + +Who knocks? That April! +Lock the door! +I will not be pursued! +He stayed away a year, to call +When I am occupied. +But trifles look so trivial +As soon as you have come, +That blame is just as dear as praise +And praise as mere as blame. + + + + + +VI. + +MARCH. + +We like March, his shoes are purple, + He is new and high; +Makes he mud for dog and peddler, + Makes he forest dry; +Knows the adder's tongue his coming, + And begets her spot. +Stands the sun so close and mighty + That our minds are hot. +News is he of all the others; + Bold it were to die +With the blue-birds buccaneering + On his British sky. + + + + +VII. + +DAWN. + +Not knowing when the dawn will come + I open every door; +Or has it feathers like a bird, + Or billows like a shore? + + + + + +VIII. + +A murmur in the trees to note, + Not loud enough for wind; +A star not far enough to seek, + Nor near enough to find; + +A long, long yellow on the lawn, + A hubbub as of feet; +Not audible, as ours to us, + But dapperer, more sweet; + +A hurrying home of little men + To houses unperceived, -- +All this, and more, if I should tell, + Would never be believed. + +Of robins in the trundle bed + How many I espy +Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings, + Although I heard them try! + +But then I promised ne'er to tell; + How could I break my word? +So go your way and I'll go mine, -- + No fear you'll miss the road. + + + + + +IX. + +Morning is the place for dew, + Corn is made at noon, +After dinner light for flowers, + Dukes for setting sun! + + + + + +X. + +To my quick ear the leaves conferred; + The bushes they were bells; +I could not find a privacy + From Nature's sentinels. + +In cave if I presumed to hide, + The walls began to tell; +Creation seemed a mighty crack + To make me visible. + + + + + +XI. + +A ROSE. + +A sepal, petal, and a thorn + Upon a common summer's morn, +A flash of dew, a bee or two, +A breeze +A caper in the trees, -- + And I'm a rose! + + + + + +XII. + +High from the earth I heard a bird; + He trod upon the trees +As he esteemed them trifles, + And then he spied a breeze, +And situated softly + Upon a pile of wind +Which in a perturbation + Nature had left behind. +A joyous-going fellow + I gathered from his talk, +Which both of benediction + And badinage partook, +Without apparent burden, + I learned, in leafy wood +He was the faithful father + Of a dependent brood; +And this untoward transport + His remedy for care, -- +A contrast to our respites. + How different we are! + + + + + +XIII. + +COBWEBS. + +The spider as an artist + Has never been employed +Though his surpassing merit + Is freely certified + +By every broom and Bridget + Throughout a Christian land. +Neglected son of genius, + I take thee by the hand. + + + + + +XIV. + +A WELL. + +What mystery pervades a well! + The water lives so far, +Like neighbor from another world + Residing in a jar. + +The grass does not appear afraid; + I often wonder he +Can stand so close and look so bold + At what is dread to me. + +Related somehow they may be, -- + The sedge stands next the sea, +Where he is floorless, yet of fear + No evidence gives he. + +But nature is a stranger yet; + The ones that cite her most +Have never passed her haunted house, + Nor simplified her ghost. + +To pity those that know her not + Is helped by the regret +That those who know her, know her less + The nearer her they get. + + + + + +XV. + +To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, -- +One clover, and a bee, +And revery. +The revery alone will do +If bees are few. + + + + + +XVI. + +THE WIND. + +It's like the light, -- + A fashionless delight +It's like the bee, -- + A dateless melody. + +It's like the woods, + Private like breeze, +Phraseless, yet it stirs + The proudest trees. + +It's like the morning, -- + Best when it's done, -- +The everlasting clocks + Chime noon. + + + + + +XVII. + +A dew sufficed itself + And satisfied a leaf, +And felt, 'how vast a destiny! + How trivial is life!' + +The sun went out to work, + The day went out to play, +But not again that dew was seen + By physiognomy. + +Whether by day abducted, + Or emptied by the sun +Into the sea, in passing, + Eternally unknown. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE WOODPECKER. + +His bill an auger is, + His head, a cap and frill. +He laboreth at every tree, -- + A worm his utmost goal. + + + + + +XIX. + +A SNAKE. + +Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, + Until we meet a snake; +'T is then we sigh for houses, + And our departure take +At that enthralling gallop + That only childhood knows. +A snake is summer's treason, + And guile is where it goes. + + + + + +XX. + +Could I but ride indefinite, + As doth the meadow-bee, +And visit only where I liked, + And no man visit me, + +And flirt all day with buttercups, + And marry whom I may, +And dwell a little everywhere, + Or better, run away + +With no police to follow, + Or chase me if I do, +Till I should jump peninsulas + To get away from you, -- + +I said, but just to be a bee + Upon a raft of air, +And row in nowhere all day long, + And anchor off the bar,-- +What liberty! So captives deem + Who tight in dungeons are. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOON. + +The moon was but a chin of gold + A night or two ago, +And now she turns her perfect face + Upon the world below. + +Her forehead is of amplest blond; + Her cheek like beryl stone; +Her eye unto the summer dew + The likest I have known. + +Her lips of amber never part; + But what must be the smile +Upon her friend she could bestow + Were such her silver will! + +And what a privilege to be + But the remotest star! +For certainly her way might pass + Beside your twinkling door. + +Her bonnet is the firmament, + The universe her shoe, +The stars the trinkets at her belt, + Her dimities of blue. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE BAT. + +The bat is dun with wrinkled wings + Like fallow article, +And not a song pervades his lips, + Or none perceptible. + +His small umbrella, quaintly halved, + Describing in the air +An arc alike inscrutable, -- + Elate philosopher! + +Deputed from what firmament + Of what astute abode, +Empowered with what malevolence + Auspiciously withheld. + +To his adroit Creator + Ascribe no less the praise; +Beneficent, believe me, + His eccentricities. + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE BALLOON. + +You've seen balloons set, haven't you? + So stately they ascend +It is as swans discarded you + For duties diamond. + +Their liquid feet go softly out + Upon a sea of blond; +They spurn the air as 't were too mean + For creatures so renowned. + +Their ribbons just beyond the eye, + They struggle some for breath, +And yet the crowd applauds below; + They would not encore death. + +The gilded creature strains and spins, + Trips frantic in a tree, +Tears open her imperial veins + And tumbles in the sea. + +The crowd retire with an oath + The dust in streets goes down, +And clerks in counting-rooms observe, + ''T was only a balloon.' + + + + + +XXIV. + +EVENING. + +The cricket sang, +And set the sun, +And workmen finished, one by one, + Their seam the day upon. + +The low grass loaded with the dew, +The twilight stood as strangers do +With hat in hand, polite and new, + To stay as if, or go. + +A vastness, as a neighbor, came, -- +A wisdom without face or name, +A peace, as hemispheres at home, -- + And so the night became. + + + + + +XXV. + +COCOON. + +Drab habitation of whom? +Tabernacle or tomb, +Or dome of worm, +Or porch of gnome, +Or some elf's catacomb? + + + + +XXVI. + +SUNSET. + +A sloop of amber slips away + Upon an ether sea, +And wrecks in peace a purple tar, + The son of ecstasy. + + + + + +XXVII. + +AURORA. + +Of bronze and blaze + The north, to-night! + So adequate its forms, +So preconcerted with itself, + So distant to alarms, -- +An unconcern so sovereign + To universe, or me, +It paints my simple spirit + With tints of majesty, +Till I take vaster attitudes, + And strut upon my stem, +Disdaining men and oxygen, + For arrogance of them. + +My splendors are menagerie; + But their competeless show +Will entertain the centuries + When I am, long ago, +An island in dishonored grass, + Whom none but daisies know. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +THE COMING OF NIGHT. + +How the old mountains drip with sunset, + And the brake of dun! +How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel + By the wizard sun! + +How the old steeples hand the scarlet, + Till the ball is full, -- +Have I the lip of the flamingo + That I dare to tell? + +Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, + Touching all the grass +With a departing, sapphire feature, + As if a duchess pass! + +How a small dusk crawls on the village + Till the houses blot; +And the odd flambeaux no men carry + Glimmer on the spot! + +Now it is night in nest and kennel, + And where was the wood, +Just a dome of abyss is nodding + Into solitude! -- + +These are the visions baffled Guido; + Titian never told; +Domenichino dropped the pencil, + Powerless to unfold. + + + + + +XXIX. + +AFTERMATH. + +The murmuring of bees has ceased; + But murmuring of some +Posterior, prophetic, + Has simultaneous come, -- + +The lower metres of the year, + When nature's laugh is done, -- +The Revelations of the book + Whose Genesis is June. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +This world is not conclusion; + A sequel stands beyond, +Invisible, as music, + But positive, as sound. +It beckons and it baffles; + Philosophies don't know, +And through a riddle, at the last, + Sagacity must go. +To guess it puzzles scholars; + To gain it, men have shown +Contempt of generations, + And crucifixion known. + + + + + +II. + +We learn in the retreating + How vast an one +Was recently among us. + A perished sun + +Endears in the departure + How doubly more +Than all the golden presence + It was before! + + + + + +III. + +They say that 'time assuages,' -- + Time never did assuage; +An actual suffering strengthens, + As sinews do, with age. + +Time is a test of trouble, + But not a remedy. +If such it prove, it prove too + There was no malady. + + + + + +IV. + +We cover thee, sweet face. + Not that we tire of thee, +But that thyself fatigue of us; + Remember, as thou flee, +We follow thee until + Thou notice us no more, +And then, reluctant, turn away + To con thee o'er and o'er, +And blame the scanty love + We were content to show, +Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold + If thou would'st take it now. + + + + + +V. + +ENDING. + +That is solemn we have ended, -- + Be it but a play, +Or a glee among the garrets, + Or a holiday, + +Or a leaving home; or later, + Parting with a world +We have understood, for better + Still it be unfurled. + + + + + +VI. + +The stimulus, beyond the grave + His countenance to see, +Supports me like imperial drams + Afforded royally. + + + + + +VII. + +Given in marriage unto thee, + Oh, thou celestial host! +Bride of the Father and the Son, + Bride of the Holy Ghost! + +Other betrothal shall dissolve, + Wedlock of will decay; +Only the keeper of this seal + Conquers mortality. + + + + + + +VIII. + +That such have died enables us + The tranquiller to die; +That such have lived, certificate + For immortality. + + + + + +IX. + +They won't frown always, -- some sweet day + When I forget to tease, +They'll recollect how cold I looked, + And how I just said 'please.' + +Then they will hasten to the door + To call the little child, +Who cannot thank them, for the ice + That on her lisping piled. + + + + + +X. + +IMMORTALITY. + +It is an honorable thought, + And makes one lift one's hat, +As one encountered gentlefolk + Upon a daily street, + +That we've immortal place, + Though pyramids decay, +And kingdoms, like the orchard, + Flit russetly away. + + + + + +XI. + +The distance that the dead have gone + Does not at first appear; +Their coming back seems possible + For many an ardent year. + +And then, that we have followed them + We more than half suspect, +So intimate have we become + With their dear retrospect. + + + + + +XII. + +How dare the robins sing, + When men and women hear +Who since they went to their account + Have settled with the year! -- +Paid all that life had earned + In one consummate bill, +And now, what life or death can do + Is immaterial. +Insulting is the sun + To him whose mortal light, +Beguiled of immortality, + Bequeaths him to the night. +In deference to him + Extinct be every hum, +Whose garden wrestles with the dew, + At daybreak overcome! + + + + + +XIII. + +DEATH. + +Death is like the insect + Menacing the tree, +Competent to kill it, + But decoyed may be. + +Bait it with the balsam, + Seek it with the knife, +Baffle, if it cost you + Everything in life. + +Then, if it have burrowed + Out of reach of skill, +Ring the tree and leave it, -- + 'T is the vermin's will. + + + + + +XIV. + +UNWARNED. + +'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou + No station in the day? +'T was not thy wont to hinder so, -- + Retrieve thine industry. + +'T is noon, my little maid, alas! + And art thou sleeping yet? +The lily waiting to be wed, + The bee, dost thou forget? + +My little maid, 't is night; alas, + That night should be to thee +Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached + Thy little plan to me, +Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet, + I might have aided thee. + + + + + +XV. + +Each that we lose takes part of us; + A crescent still abides, +Which like the moon, some turbid night, + Is summoned by the tides. + + + + + +XVI. + +Not any higher stands the grave + For heroes than for men; +Not any nearer for the child + Than numb three-score and ten. + +This latest leisure equal lulls + The beggar and his queen; +Propitiate this democrat + By summer's gracious mien. + + + + + +XVII. + +ASLEEP. + +As far from pity as complaint, + As cool to speech as stone, +As numb to revelation + As if my trade were bone. + +As far from time as history, + As near yourself to-day +As children to the rainbow's scarf, + Or sunset's yellow play + +To eyelids in the sepulchre. + How still the dancer lies, +While color's revelations break, + And blaze the butterflies! + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SPIRIT. + +'T is whiter than an Indian pipe, + 'T is dimmer than a lace; +No stature has it, like a fog, + When you approach the place. + +Not any voice denotes it here, + Or intimates it there; +A spirit, how doth it accost? + What customs hath the air? + +This limitless hyperbole + Each one of us shall be; +'T is drama, if (hypothesis) + It be not tragedy! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MONUMENT. + +She laid her docile crescent down, + And this mechanic stone +Still states, to dates that have forgot, + The news that she is gone. + +So constant to its stolid trust, + The shaft that never knew, +It shames the constancy that fled + Before its emblem flew. + + + + + +XX. + +Bless God, he went as soldiers, + His musket on his breast; +Grant, God, he charge the bravest + Of all the martial blest. + +Please God, might I behold him + In epauletted white, +I should not fear the foe then, + I should not fear the fight. + + + + + +XXI. + +Immortal is an ample word + When what we need is by, +But when it leaves us for a time, + 'T is a necessity. + +Of heaven above the firmest proof + We fundamental know, +Except for its marauding hand, + It had been heaven below. + + + + + +XXII. + +Where every bird is bold to go, + And bees abashless play, +The foreigner before he knocks + Must thrust the tears away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The grave my little cottage is, + Where, keeping house for thee, +I make my parlor orderly, + And lay the marble tea, + +For two divided, briefly, + A cycle, it may be, +Till everlasting life unite + In strong society. + + + + + +XXIV. + +This was in the white of the year, + That was in the green, +Drifts were as difficult then to think + As daisies now to be seen. + +Looking back is best that is left, + Or if it be before, +Retrospection is prospect's half, + Sometimes almost more. + + + + + +XXV. + +Sweet hours have perished here; + This is a mighty room; +Within its precincts hopes have played, -- + Now shadows in the tomb. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Me! Come! My dazzled face +In such a shining place! + +Me! Hear! My foreign ear +The sounds of welcome near! + +The saints shall meet +Our bashful feet. + +My holiday shall be +That they remember me; + +My paradise, the fame +That they pronounce my name. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INVISIBLE. + +From us she wandered now a year, + Her tarrying unknown; +If wilderness prevent her feet, + Or that ethereal zone + +No eye hath seen and lived, + We ignorant must be. +We only know what time of year + We took the mystery. + + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I wish I knew that woman's name, + So, when she comes this way, +To hold my life, and hold my ears, + For fear I hear her say + +She's 'sorry I am dead,' again, + Just when the grave and I +Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, -- + Our only lullaby. + + + + + +XXIX. + +TRYING TO FORGET. + +Bereaved of all, I went abroad, + No less bereaved to be +Upon a new peninsula, -- + The grave preceded me, + +Obtained my lodgings ere myself, + And when I sought my bed, +The grave it was, reposed upon + The pillow for my head. + +I waked, to find it first awake, + I rose, -- it followed me; +I tried to drop it in the crowd, + To lose it in the sea, + +In cups of artificial drowse + To sleep its shape away, -- +The grave was finished, but the spade + Remained in memory. + + + + + +XXX. + +I felt a funeral in my brain, + And mourners, to and fro, +Kept treading, treading, till it seemed + That sense was breaking through. + +And when they all were seated, + A service like a drum +Kept beating, beating, till I thought + My mind was going numb. + +And then I heard them lift a box, + And creak across my soul +With those same boots of lead, again. + Then space began to toll + +As all the heavens were a bell, + And Being but an ear, +And I and silence some strange race, + Wrecked, solitary, here. + + + + + +XXXI. + +I meant to find her when I came; + Death had the same design; +But the success was his, it seems, + And the discomfit mine. + +I meant to tell her how I longed + For just this single time; +But Death had told her so the first, + And she had hearkened him. + +To wander now is my abode; + To rest, -- to rest would be +A privilege of hurricane + To memory and me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +WAITING. + +I sing to use the waiting, + My bonnet but to tie, +And shut the door unto my house; + No more to do have I, + +Till, his best step approaching, + We journey to the day, +And tell each other how we sang + To keep the dark away. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +A sickness of this world it most occasions + When best men die; +A wishfulness their far condition + To occupy. + +A chief indifference, as foreign + A world must be +Themselves forsake contented, + For Deity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +Superfluous were the sun + When excellence is dead; +He were superfluous every day, + For every day is said + +That syllable whose faith + Just saves it from despair, +And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates + If love inquire, 'Where?' + +Upon his dateless fame + Our periods may lie, +As stars that drop anonymous + From an abundant sky. + + + + + +XXXV. + +So proud she was to die + It made us all ashamed +That what we cherished, so unknown + To her desire seemed. + +So satisfied to go + Where none of us should be, +Immediately, that anguish stooped + Almost to jealousy. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +FAREWELL. + +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 bridges, + And never I mind the sea; +Held fast in everlasting race + By my own choice and thee. + +Good-by to the life I used to live, + And the world I used to know; +And kiss the hills for me, just once; + Now I am ready to go! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +The dying need but little, dear, -- + A glass of water's all, +A flower's unobtrusive face + To punctuate the wall, + +A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret, + And certainly that one +No color in the rainbow + Perceives when you are gone. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +DEAD. + +There's something quieter than sleep + Within this inner room! +It wears a sprig upon its breast, + And will not tell its name. + +Some touch it and some kiss it, + Some chafe its idle hand; +It has a simple gravity + I do not understand! + +While simple-hearted neighbors + Chat of the 'early dead,' +We, prone to periphrasis, + Remark that birds have fled! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +The soul should always stand ajar, + That if the heaven inquire, +He will not be obliged to wait, + Or shy of troubling her. + +Depart, before the host has slid + The bolt upon the door, +To seek for the accomplished guest, -- + Her visitor no more. + + + + + +XL. + +Three weeks passed since I had seen her, -- + Some disease had vexed; +'T was with text and village singing + I beheld her next, + +And a company -- our pleasure + To discourse alone; +Gracious now to me as any, + Gracious unto none. + +Borne, without dissent of either, + To the parish night; +Of the separated people + Which are out of sight? + + + + + +XLI. + +I breathed enough to learn the trick, + And now, removed from air, +I simulate the breath so well, + That one, to be quite sure + +The lungs are stirless, must descend + Among the cunning cells, +And touch the pantomime himself. + How cool the bellows feels! + + + + + +XLII. + +I wonder if the sepulchre + Is not a lonesome way, +When men and boys, and larks and June + Go down the fields to hay! + + + + + +XLIII. + +JOY IN DEATH. + +If tolling bell I ask the cause. + 'A soul has gone to God,' +I'm answered in a lonesome tone; + Is heaven then so sad? + +That bells should joyful ring to tell + A soul had gone to heaven, +Would seem to me the proper way + A good news should be given. + + + + + +XLIV. + +If I may have it when it's dead + I will contented be; +If just as soon as breath is out + It shall belong to me, + +Until they lock it in the grave, + 'T is bliss I cannot weigh, +For though they lock thee in the grave, + Myself can hold the key. + +Think of it, lover! I and thee + Permitted face to face to be; +After a life, a death we'll say, -- + For death was that, and this is thee. + + + + + +XLV. + +Before the ice is in the pools, + Before the skaters go, +Or any cheek at nightfall + Is tarnished by the snow, + +Before the fields have finished, + Before the Christmas tree, +Wonder upon wonder + Will arrive to me! + +What we touch the hems of + On a summer's day; +What is only walking + Just a bridge away; + +That which sings so, speaks so, + When there's no one here, -- +Will the frock I wept in + Answer me to wear? + + + + + +XLVI. + +DYING. + +I heard a fly buzz when I died; + The stillness round my form +Was like the stillness in the air + Between the heaves of storm. + +The eyes beside had wrung them dry, + And breaths were gathering sure +For that last onset, when the king + Be witnessed in his power. + +I willed my keepsakes, signed away + What portion of me I +Could make assignable, -- and then + There interposed a fly, + +With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz, + Between the light and me; +And then the windows failed, and then + I could not see to see. + + + + + +XLVII. + +Adrift! A little boat adrift! + And night is coming down! +Will no one guide a little boat + Unto the nearest town? + +So sailors say, on yesterday, + Just as the dusk was brown, +One little boat gave up its strife, + And gurgled down and down. + +But angels say, on yesterday, + Just as the dawn was red, +One little boat o'erspent with gales +Retrimmed its masts, redecked its sails + Exultant, onward sped! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +There's been a death in the opposite house + As lately as to-day. +I know it by the numb look + Such houses have alway. + +The neighbors rustle in and out, + The doctor drives away. +A window opens like a pod, + Abrupt, mechanically; + +Somebody flings a mattress out, -- + The children hurry by; +They wonder if It died on that, -- + I used to when a boy. + +The minister goes stiffly in + As if the house were his, +And he owned all the mourners now, + And little boys besides; + +And then the milliner, and the man + Of the appalling trade, +To take the measure of the house. + There'll be that dark parade + +Of tassels and of coaches soon; + It's easy as a sign, -- +The intuition of the news + In just a country town. + + + + + +XLIX. + +We never know we go, -- when we are going + We jest and shut the door; +Fate following behind us bolts it, + And we accost no more. + + + + +L. + +THE SOUL'S STORM. + +It struck me every day + The lightning was as new +As if the cloud that instant slit + And let the fire through. + +It burned me in the night, + It blistered in my dream; +It sickened fresh upon my sight + With every morning's beam. + +I thought that storm was brief, -- + The maddest, quickest by; +But Nature lost the date of this, + And left it in the sky. + + + + + +LI. + +Water is taught by thirst; +Land, by the oceans passed; + Transport, by throe; +Peace, by its battles told; +Love, by memorial mould; + Birds, by the snow. + + + + +LII. + +THIRST. + +We thirst at first, -- 't is Nature's act; + And later, when we die, +A little water supplicate + Of fingers going by. + +It intimates the finer want, + Whose adequate supply +Is that great water in the west + Termed immortality. + + + + + +LIII. + +A clock stopped -- not the mantel's; + Geneva's farthest skill +Can't put the puppet bowing + That just now dangled still. + +An awe came on the trinket! + The figures hunched with pain, +Then quivered out of decimals + Into degreeless noon. + +It will not stir for doctors, + This pendulum of snow; +The shopman importunes it, + While cool, concernless No + +Nods from the gilded pointers, + Nods from the seconds slim, +Decades of arrogance between + The dial life and him. + + + + + +LIV. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTË'S GRAVE. + +All overgrown by cunning moss, + All interspersed with weed, +The little cage of 'Currer Bell,' + In quiet Haworth laid. + +This bird, observing others, + When frosts too sharp became, +Retire to other latitudes, + Quietly did the same, + +But differed in returning; + Since Yorkshire hills are green, +Yet not in all the nests I meet + Can nightingale be seen. + +Gathered from many wanderings, + Gethsemane can tell +Through what transporting anguish + She reached the asphodel! + +Soft fall the sounds of Eden + Upon her puzzled ear; +Oh, what an afternoon for heaven, + When 'Brontë' entered there! + + + + + +LV. + +A toad can die of light! +Death is the common right + Of toads and men, -- +Of earl and midge +The privilege. + Why swagger then? +The gnat's supremacy +Is large as thine. + + + + + +LVI. + +Far from love the Heavenly Father + Leads the chosen child; +Oftener through realm of briar + Than the meadow mild, + +Oftener by the claw of dragon + Than the hand of friend, +Guides the little one predestined + To the native land. + + + + + +LVII. + +SLEEPING. + +A long, long sleep, a famous sleep + That makes no show for dawn +By stretch of limb or stir of lid, -- + An independent one. + +Was ever idleness like this? + Within a hut of stone +To bask the centuries away + Nor once look up for noon? + + + + + +LVIII. + +RETROSPECT. + +'T was just this time last year I died. + I know I heard the corn, +When I was carried by the farms, -- + It had the tassels on. + +I thought how yellow it would look + When Richard went to mill; +And then I wanted to get out, + But something held my will. + +I thought just how red apples wedged + The stubble's joints between; +And carts went stooping round the fields + To take the pumpkins in. + +I wondered which would miss me least, + And when Thanksgiving came, +If father'd multiply the plates + To make an even sum. + +And if my stocking hung too high, + Would it blur the Christmas glee, +That not a Santa Claus could reach + The altitude of me? + +But this sort grieved myself, and so + I thought how it would be +When just this time, some perfect year, + Themselves should come to me. + + + + + +LIX. + +ETERNITY. + +On this wondrous sea, +Sailing silently, + Ho! pilot, ho! +Knowest thou the shore +Where no breakers roar, + Where the storm is o'er? + +In the silent west +Many sails at rest, + Their anchors fast; +Thither I pilot thee, -- +Land, ho! Eternity! + Ashore at last! + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 12242-8.txt or 12242-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/4/12242/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems: Three Series, Complete + +Author: Emily Dickinson + +Release Date: May 3, 2004 [EBook #12242] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</p> + +<p>As is well documented, Emily Dickinson's poems were edited in these +early editions by her friends, better to fit the conventions of the +times. In particular, her dashes, often small enough to appear +as dots, became commas and semi-colons.</p> + +<p>In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her +handwritten poem which her editors titled <a href="#There_came_a_day_at_summers_full">"Renunciation"</a> is given, +and comparing this to the printed version gives a flavor of the +changes made in these early editions.</p> + + + +<p> —-JT</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>Contents</h3> +<p> </p> +<p class="indent"><a href="#Series_One"><b>First Series</b></a></p> +<p class="indent"><a href="#Series_Two"><b>Second Series</b></a></p> +<p class="indent"><a href="#Series_Three"><b>Third Series</b></a></p> +<p class="indent"><a href="#Index_of_First_Lines"><b>Index of First Lines</b></a></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + +<a name="Series_One"> </a> +<h2>POEMS</h2> + +<h2>by EMILY DICKINSON</h2> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p>Edited by two of her friends</p> + +<p>MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + +<p>PREFACE.</p> + +<p>The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson +long since called "the Poetry of the Portfolio,"—something produced +absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of +expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably +forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism +and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it +may often gain something through the habit of freedom and the +unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the +present author, there was absolutely no choice in the matter; she +must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, +literally spending years without setting her foot beyond the +doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly +limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, +like her person, from all but a very few friends; and it was with +great difficulty that she was persuaded to print, during her +lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great +abundance; and though brought curiously indifferent to all +conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, +and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own +tenacious fastidiousness.</p> + +<p>Miss Dickinson was born in Amherst, Mass., Dec. 10, 1830, and died +there May 15, 1886. Her father, Hon. Edward Dickinson, was the +leading lawyer of Amherst, and was treasurer of the well-known +college there situated. It was his custom once a year to hold a large +reception at his house, attended by all the families connected with +the institution and by the leading people of the town. On these +occasions his daughter Emily emerged from her wonted retirement and +did her part as gracious hostess; nor would any one have known from +her manner, I have been told, that this was not a daily occurrence. +The annual occasion once past, she withdrew again into her seclusion, +and except for a very few friends was as invisible to the world as if +she had dwelt in a nunnery. For myself, although I had corresponded +with her for many years, I saw her but twice face to face, and +brought away the impression of something as unique and remote as +Undine or Mignon or Thekla.</p> + +<p>This selection from her poems is published to meet the desire of her +personal friends, and especially of her surviving sister. It is +believed that the thoughtful reader will find in these pages a +quality more suggestive of the poetry of William Blake than of +anything to be elsewhere found,—flashes of wholly original and +profound insight into nature and life; words and phrases exhibiting +an extraordinary vividness of descriptive and imaginative power, yet +often set in a seemingly whimsical or even rugged frame. They are +here published as they were written, with very few and superficial +changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been +assigned, almost invariably, by the editors. In many cases these +verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with +rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and +a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed. In other cases, as in the +few poems of shipwreck or of mental conflict, we can only wonder at +the gift of vivid imagination by which this recluse woman can +delineate, by a few touches, the very crises of physical or mental +struggle. And sometimes again we catch glimpses of a lyric strain, +sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the +reader regret its sudden cessation. But the main quality of these +poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an +uneven vigor sometimes exasperating, seemingly wayward, but really +unsought and inevitable. After all, when a thought takes one's +breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence. As Ruskin +wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty +of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought."</p> + +<p class="indent"> + —-Thomas Wentworth Higginson</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<p class="indent"> +<a name="This_is_my_letter_to_the_world"></a> +This is my letter to the world,<br> + That never wrote to me, —<br> +The simple news that Nature told,<br> + With tender majesty.<br> +<br> +Her message is committed<br> + To hands I cannot see;<br> +For love of her, sweet countrymen,<br> + Judge tenderly of me!<br> +</p> + + + + + + + + + +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I. LIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="Success_is_counted_sweetest"></a> +I.<br> +<br> +SUCCESS.<br> +<br> +[Published in "A Masque of Poets"<br> +at the request of "H.H.," the author's<br> +fellow-townswoman and friend.]<br> +<br> +Success is counted sweetest<br> +By those who ne'er succeed.<br> +To comprehend a nectar<br> +Requires sorest need.<br> +<br> +Not one of all the purple host<br> +Who took the flag to-day<br> +Can tell the definition,<br> +So clear, of victory,<br> +<br> +As he, defeated, dying,<br> +On whose forbidden ear<br> +The distant strains of triumph<br> +Break, agonized and clear!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Our_share_of_night_to_bear"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +Our share of night to bear,<br> +Our share of morning,<br> +Our blank in bliss to fill,<br> +Our blank in scorning.<br> +<br> +Here a star, and there a star,<br> +Some lose their way.<br> +Here a mist, and there a mist,<br> +Afterwards — day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +ROUGE ET NOIR.<br> +<br> +<a name="Soul_wilt_thou_toss_again"></a> +Soul, wilt thou toss again?<br> +By just such a hazard<br> +Hundreds have lost, indeed,<br> +But tens have won an all.<br> +<br> +Angels' breathless ballot<br> +Lingers to record thee;<br> +Imps in eager caucus<br> +Raffle for my soul.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_is_so_much_joy_T_is_so_much_joy"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +ROUGE GAGNE.<br> +<br> +'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy!<br> +If I should fail, what poverty!<br> +And yet, as poor as I<br> +Have ventured all upon a throw;<br> +Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so<br> +This side the victory!<br> +<br> +Life is but life, and death but death!<br> +Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!<br> +And if, indeed, I fail,<br> +At least to know the worst is sweet.<br> +Defeat means nothing but defeat,<br> +No drearier can prevail!<br> +<br> +And if I gain, — oh, gun at sea,<br> +Oh, bells that in the steeples be,<br> +At first repeat it slow!<br> +For heaven is a different thing<br> +Conjectured, and waked sudden in,<br> +And might o'erwhelm me so!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Glee_The_great_storm_is_over"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +Glee! The great storm is over!<br> +Four have recovered the land;<br> +Forty gone down together<br> +Into the boiling sand.<br> +<br> +Ring, for the scant salvation!<br> +Toll, for the bonnie souls, —<br> +Neighbor and friend and bridegroom,<br> +Spinning upon the shoals!<br> +<br> +How they will tell the shipwreck<br> +When winter shakes the door,<br> +Till the children ask, "But the forty?<br> +Did they come back no more?"<br> +<br> +Then a silence suffuses the story,<br> +And a softness the teller's eye;<br> +And the children no further question,<br> +And only the waves reply.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_I_can_stop_one_heart_from_breaking"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +If I can stop one heart from breaking,<br> +I shall not live in vain;<br> +If I can ease one life the aching,<br> +Or cool one pain,<br> +Or help one fainting robin<br> +Unto his nest again,<br> +I shall not live in vain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Within_my_reach"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +ALMOST!<br> +<br> +Within my reach!<br> +I could have touched!<br> +I might have chanced that way!<br> +Soft sauntered through the village,<br> +Sauntered as soft away!<br> +So unsuspected violets<br> +Within the fields lie low,<br> +Too late for striving fingers<br> +That passed, an hour ago.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_wounded_deer_leaps_highest"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +A wounded deer leaps highest,<br> +I've heard the hunter tell;<br> +'T is but the ecstasy of death,<br> +And then the brake is still.<br> +<br> +The smitten rock that gushes,<br> +The trampled steel that springs;<br> +A cheek is always redder<br> +Just where the hectic stings!<br> +<br> +Mirth is the mail of anguish,<br> +In which it cautions arm,<br> +Lest anybody spy the blood<br> +And "You're hurt" exclaim!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_heart_asks_pleasure_first"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +The heart asks pleasure first,<br> +And then, excuse from pain;<br> +And then, those little anodynes<br> +That deaden suffering;<br> +<br> +And then, to go to sleep;<br> +And then, if it should be<br> +The will of its Inquisitor,<br> +The liberty to die.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_precious_mouldering_pleasure_t_is"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +IN A LIBRARY.<br> +<br> +A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is<br> +To meet an antique book,<br> +In just the dress his century wore;<br> +A privilege, I think,<br> +<br> +His venerable hand to take,<br> +And warming in our own,<br> +A passage back, or two, to make<br> +To times when he was young.<br> +<br> +His quaint opinions to inspect,<br> +His knowledge to unfold<br> +On what concerns our mutual mind,<br> +The literature of old;<br> +<br> +What interested scholars most,<br> +What competitions ran<br> +When Plato was a certainty.<br> +And Sophocles a man;<br> +<br> +When Sappho was a living girl,<br> +And Beatrice wore<br> +The gown that Dante deified.<br> +Facts, centuries before,<br> +<br> +He traverses familiar,<br> +As one should come to town<br> +And tell you all your dreams were true;<br> +He lived where dreams were sown.<br> +<br> +His presence is enchantment,<br> +You beg him not to go;<br> +Old volumes shake their vellum heads<br> +And tantalize, just so.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Much_madness_is_divinest_sense"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +Much madness is divinest sense<br> +To a discerning eye;<br> +Much sense the starkest madness.<br> +'T is the majority<br> +In this, as all, prevails.<br> +Assent, and you are sane;<br> +Demur, — you're straightway dangerous,<br> +And handled with a chain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_asked_no_other_thing"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +I asked no other thing,<br> +No other was denied.<br> +I offered Being for it;<br> +The mighty merchant smiled.<br> +<br> +Brazil? He twirled a button,<br> +Without a glance my way:<br> +"But, madam, is there nothing else<br> +That we can show to-day?"<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_soul_selects_her_own_society"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +EXCLUSION.<br> +<br> +The soul selects her own society,<br> +Then shuts the door;<br> +On her divine majority<br> +Obtrude no more.<br> +<br> +Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing<br> +At her low gate;<br> +Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling<br> +Upon her mat.<br> +<br> +I've known her from an ample nation<br> +Choose one;<br> +Then close the valves of her attention<br> +Like stone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Some_things_that_fly_there_be"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +THE SECRET.<br> +<br> +Some things that fly there be, —<br> +Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:<br> +Of these no elegy.<br> +<br> +Some things that stay there be, —<br> +Grief, hills, eternity:<br> +Nor this behooveth me.<br> +<br> +There are, that resting, rise.<br> +Can I expound the skies?<br> +How still the riddle lies!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_know_some_lonely_houses_off_the_road"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +THE LONELY HOUSE.<br> +<br> +I know some lonely houses off the road<br> +A robber 'd like the look of, —<br> +Wooden barred,<br> +And windows hanging low,<br> +Inviting to<br> +A portico,<br> +Where two could creep:<br> +One hand the tools,<br> +The other peep<br> +To make sure all's asleep.<br> +Old-fashioned eyes,<br> +Not easy to surprise!<br> +<br> +How orderly the kitchen 'd look by night,<br> +With just a clock, —<br> +But they could gag the tick,<br> +And mice won't bark;<br> +And so the walls don't tell,<br> +None will.<br> +<br> +A pair of spectacles ajar just stir —<br> +An almanac's aware.<br> +Was it the mat winked,<br> +Or a nervous star?<br> +The moon slides down the stair<br> +To see who's there.<br> +<br> +There's plunder, — where?<br> +Tankard, or spoon,<br> +Earring, or stone,<br> +A watch, some ancient brooch<br> +To match the grandmamma,<br> +Staid sleeping there.<br> +<br> +Day rattles, too,<br> +Stealth's slow;<br> +The sun has got as far<br> +As the third sycamore.<br> +Screams chanticleer,<br> +"Who's there?"<br> +And echoes, trains away,<br> +Sneer — "Where?"<br> +While the old couple, just astir,<br> +Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_fight_aloud_is_very_brave"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +To fight aloud is very brave,<br> +But gallanter, I know,<br> +Who charge within the bosom,<br> +The cavalry of woe.<br> +<br> +Who win, and nations do not see,<br> +Who fall, and none observe,<br> +Whose dying eyes no country<br> +Regards with patriot love.<br> +<br> +We trust, in plumed procession,<br> +For such the angels go,<br> +Rank after rank, with even feet<br> +And uniforms of snow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="When_night_is_almost_done"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +DAWN.<br> +<br> +When night is almost done,<br> +And sunrise grows so near<br> +That we can touch the spaces,<br> +It 's time to smooth the hair<br> +<br> +And get the dimples ready,<br> +And wonder we could care<br> +For that old faded midnight<br> +That frightened but an hour.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Read_sweet_how_others_strove"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +THE BOOK OF MARTYRS.<br> +<br> +Read, sweet, how others strove,<br> +Till we are stouter;<br> +What they renounced,<br> +Till we are less afraid;<br> +How many times they bore<br> +The faithful witness,<br> +Till we are helped,<br> +As if a kingdom cared!<br> +<br> +Read then of faith<br> +That shone above the fagot;<br> +Clear strains of hymn<br> +The river could not drown;<br> +Brave names of men<br> +And celestial women,<br> +Passed out of record<br> +Into renown!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Pain_has_an_element_of_blank"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +THE MYSTERY OF PAIN.<br> +<br> +Pain has an element of blank;<br> +It cannot recollect<br> +When it began, or if there were<br> +A day when it was not.<br> +<br> +It has no future but itself,<br> +Its infinite realms contain<br> +Its past, enlightened to perceive<br> +New periods of pain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_taste_a_liquor_never_brewed"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +I taste a liquor never brewed,<br> +From tankards scooped in pearl;<br> +Not all the vats upon the Rhine<br> +Yield such an alcohol!<br> +<br> +Inebriate of air am I,<br> +And debauchee of dew,<br> +Reeling, through endless summer days,<br> +From inns of molten blue.<br> +<br> +When landlords turn the drunken bee<br> +Out of the foxglove's door,<br> +When butterflies renounce their drams,<br> +I shall but drink the more!<br> +<br> +Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,<br> +And saints to windows run,<br> +To see the little tippler<br> +Leaning against the sun!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="He_ate_and_drank_the_precious_words"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +A BOOK.<br> +<br> +He ate and drank the precious words,<br> +His spirit grew robust;<br> +He knew no more that he was poor,<br> +Nor that his frame was dust.<br> +He danced along the dingy days,<br> +And this bequest of wings<br> +Was but a book. What liberty<br> +A loosened spirit brings!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_had_no_time_to_hate_because"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +I had no time to hate, because<br> +The grave would hinder me,<br> +And life was not so ample I<br> +Could finish enmity.<br> +<br> +Nor had I time to love; but since<br> +Some industry must be,<br> +The little toil of love, I thought,<br> +Was large enough for me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_was_such_a_little_little_boat"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +UNRETURNING.<br> +<br> +'T was such a little, little boat<br> +That toddled down the bay!<br> +'T was such a gallant, gallant sea<br> +That beckoned it away!<br> +<br> +'T was such a greedy, greedy wave<br> +That licked it from the coast;<br> +Nor ever guessed the stately sails<br> +My little craft was lost!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Whether_my_bark_went_down_at_sea"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +Whether my bark went down at sea,<br> +Whether she met with gales,<br> +Whether to isles enchanted<br> +She bent her docile sails;<br> +<br> +By what mystic mooring<br> +She is held to-day, —<br> +This is the errand of the eye<br> +Out upon the bay.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Belshazzar_had_a_letter"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +Belshazzar had a letter, —<br> +He never had but one;<br> +Belshazzar's correspondent<br> +Concluded and begun<br> +In that immortal copy<br> +The conscience of us all<br> +Can read without its glasses<br> +On revelation's wall.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_brain_within_its_groove"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +The brain within its groove<br> +Runs evenly and true;<br> +But let a splinter swerve,<br> +'T were easier for you<br> +To put the water back<br> +When floods have slit the hills,<br> +And scooped a turnpike for themselves,<br> +And blotted out the mills!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +II. LOVE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Mine_by_the_right_of_the_white_election"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +MINE.<br> +<br> +Mine by the right of the white election!<br> +Mine by the royal seal!<br> +Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison<br> +Bars cannot conceal!<br> +<br> +Mine, here in vision and in veto!<br> +Mine, by the grave's repeal<br> +Titled, confirmed, — delirious charter!<br> +Mine, while the ages steal!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="You_left_me_sweet_two_legacies"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +BEQUEST.<br> +<br> +You left me, sweet, two legacies, —<br> +A legacy of love<br> +A Heavenly Father would content,<br> +Had He the offer of;<br> +<br> +You left me boundaries of pain<br> +Capacious as the sea,<br> +Between eternity and time,<br> +Your consciousness and me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Alter_When_the_hills_do"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +Alter? When the hills do.<br> +Falter? When the sun<br> +Question if his glory<br> +Be the perfect one.<br> +<br> +Surfeit? When the daffodil<br> +Doth of the dew:<br> +Even as herself, O friend!<br> +I will of you!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Elysium_is_as_far_as_to"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +SUSPENSE.<br> +<br> +Elysium is as far as to<br> +The very nearest room,<br> +If in that room a friend await<br> +Felicity or doom.<br> +<br> +What fortitude the soul contains,<br> +That it can so endure<br> +The accent of a coming foot,<br> +The opening of a door!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Doubt_me_my_dim_companion"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +SURRENDER.<br> +<br> +Doubt me, my dim companion!<br> +Why, God would be content<br> +With but a fraction of the love<br> +Poured thee without a stint.<br> +The whole of me, forever,<br> +What more the woman can, —<br> +Say quick, that I may dower thee<br> +With last delight I own!<br> +<br> +It cannot be my spirit,<br> +For that was thine before;<br> +I ceded all of dust I knew, —<br> +What opulence the more<br> +Had I, a humble maiden,<br> +Whose farthest of degree<br> +Was that she might,<br> +Some distant heaven,<br> +Dwell timidly with thee!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_you_were_coming_in_the_fall"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +If you were coming in the fall,<br> +I'd brush the summer by<br> +With half a smile and half a spurn,<br> +As housewives do a fly.<br> +<br> +If I could see you in a year,<br> +I'd wind the months in balls,<br> +And put them each in separate drawers,<br> +Until their time befalls.<br> +<br> +If only centuries delayed,<br> +I'd count them on my hand,<br> +Subtracting till my fingers dropped<br> +Into Van Diemen's land.<br> +<br> +If certain, when this life was out,<br> +That yours and mine should be,<br> +I'd toss it yonder like a rind,<br> +And taste eternity.<br> +<br> +But now, all ignorant of the length<br> +Of time's uncertain wing,<br> +It goads me, like the goblin bee,<br> +That will not state its sting.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_hide_myself_within_my_flower"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +WITH A FLOWER.<br> +<br> +I hide myself within my flower,<br> +That wearing on your breast,<br> +You, unsuspecting, wear me too —<br> +And angels know the rest.<br> +<br> +I hide myself within my flower,<br> +That, fading from your vase,<br> +You, unsuspecting, feel for me<br> +Almost a loneliness.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="That_I_did_always_love"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +PROOF.<br> +<br> +That I did always love,<br> +I bring thee proof:<br> +That till I loved<br> +I did not love enough.<br> +<br> +That I shall love alway,<br> +I offer thee<br> +That love is life,<br> +And life hath immortality.<br> +<br> +This, dost thou doubt, sweet?<br> +Then have I<br> +Nothing to show<br> +But Calvary.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Have_you_got_a_brook_in_your_little_heart"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +Have you got a brook in your little heart,<br> +Where bashful flowers blow,<br> +And blushing birds go down to drink,<br> +And shadows tremble so?<br> +<br> +And nobody knows, so still it flows,<br> +That any brook is there;<br> +And yet your little draught of life<br> +Is daily drunken there.<br> +<br> +Then look out for the little brook in March,<br> +When the rivers overflow,<br> +And the snows come hurrying from the hills,<br> +And the bridges often go.<br> +<br> +And later, in August it may be,<br> +When the meadows parching lie,<br> +Beware, lest this little brook of life<br> +Some burning noon go dry!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="As_if_some_little_Arctic_flower"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +TRANSPLANTED.<br> +<br> +As if some little Arctic flower,<br> +Upon the polar hem,<br> +Went wandering down the latitudes,<br> +Until it puzzled came<br> +To continents of summer,<br> +To firmaments of sun,<br> +To strange, bright crowds of flowers,<br> +And birds of foreign tongue!<br> +I say, as if this little flower<br> +To Eden wandered in —<br> +What then? Why, nothing, only,<br> +Your inference therefrom!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_river_runs_to_thee:"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +THE OUTLET.<br> +<br> +My river runs to thee:<br> +Blue sea, wilt welcome me?<br> +<br> +My river waits reply.<br> +Oh sea, look graciously!<br> +<br> +I'll fetch thee brooks<br> +From spotted nooks, —<br> +<br> +Say, sea,<br> +Take me!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_cannot_live_with_you"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +IN VAIN.<br> +<br> +I cannot live with you,<br> +It would be life,<br> +And life is over there<br> +Behind the shelf<br> +<br> +The sexton keeps the key to,<br> +Putting up<br> +Our life, his porcelain,<br> +Like a cup<br> +<br> +Discarded of the housewife,<br> +Quaint or broken;<br> +A newer Sevres pleases,<br> +Old ones crack.<br> +<br> +I could not die with you,<br> +For one must wait<br> +To shut the other's gaze down, —<br> +You could not.<br> +<br> +And I, could I stand by<br> +And see you freeze,<br> +Without my right of frost,<br> +Death's privilege?<br> +<br> +Nor could I rise with you,<br> +Because your face<br> +Would put out Jesus',<br> +That new grace<br> +<br> +Glow plain and foreign<br> +On my homesick eye,<br> +Except that you, than he<br> +Shone closer by.<br> +<br> +They'd judge us — how?<br> +For you served Heaven, you know,<br> +Or sought to;<br> +I could not,<br> +<br> +Because you saturated sight,<br> +And I had no more eyes<br> +For sordid excellence<br> +As Paradise.<br> +<br> +And were you lost, I would be,<br> +Though my name<br> +Rang loudest<br> +On the heavenly fame.<br> +<br> +And were you saved,<br> +And I condemned to be<br> +Where you were not,<br> +That self were hell to me.<br> +<br> +So we must keep apart,<br> +You there, I here,<br> +With just the door ajar<br> +That oceans are,<br> +And prayer,<br> +And that pale sustenance,<br> +Despair!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_came_a_day_at_summers_full"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +RENUNCIATION.<br> +<br> +<p> +<img src="renun1.jpg" alt="First page of Renunciation"> +<img src="renun2.jpg" alt="Second page of Renunciation"> +<img src="renun3.jpg" alt="Third page of Renunciation"> +<img src="renun4.jpg" alt="Fourth page of Renunciation"> +</p> +<br> +There came a day at summer's full<br> +Entirely for me;<br> +I thought that such were for the saints,<br> +Where revelations be.<br> +<br> +The sun, as common, went abroad,<br> +The flowers, accustomed, blew,<br> +As if no soul the solstice passed<br> +That maketh all things new.<br> +<br> +The time was scarce profaned by speech;<br> +The symbol of a word<br> +Was needless, as at sacrament<br> +The wardrobe of our Lord.<br> +<br> +Each was to each the sealed church,<br> +Permitted to commune this time,<br> +Lest we too awkward show<br> +At supper of the Lamb.<br> +<br> +The hours slid fast, as hours will,<br> +Clutched tight by greedy hands;<br> +So faces on two decks look back,<br> +Bound to opposing lands.<br> +<br> +And so, when all the time had failed,<br> +Without external sound,<br> +Each bound the other's crucifix,<br> +We gave no other bond.<br> +<br> +Sufficient troth that we shall rise —<br> +Deposed, at length, the grave —<br> +To that new marriage, justified<br> +Through Calvaries of Love!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Im_ceded_Ive_stopped_being_theirs"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +LOVE'S BAPTISM.<br> +<br> +I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs;<br> +The name they dropped upon my face<br> +With water, in the country church,<br> +Is finished using now,<br> +And they can put it with my dolls,<br> +My childhood, and the string of spools<br> +I've finished threading too.<br> +<br> +Baptized before without the choice,<br> +But this time consciously, of grace<br> +Unto supremest name,<br> +Called to my full, the crescent dropped,<br> +Existence's whole arc filled up<br> +With one small diadem.<br> +<br> +My second rank, too small the first,<br> +Crowned, crowing on my father's breast,<br> +A half unconscious queen;<br> +But this time, adequate, erect,<br> +With will to choose or to reject.<br> +And I choose — just a throne.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_was_a_long_parting_but_the_time"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +RESURRECTION.<br> +<br> +'T was a long parting, but the time<br> +For interview had come;<br> +Before the judgment-seat of God,<br> +The last and second time<br> +<br> +These fleshless lovers met,<br> +A heaven in a gaze,<br> +A heaven of heavens, the privilege<br> +Of one another's eyes.<br> +<br> +No lifetime set on them,<br> +Apparelled as the new<br> +Unborn, except they had beheld,<br> +Born everlasting now.<br> +<br> +Was bridal e'er like this?<br> +A paradise, the host,<br> +And cherubim and seraphim<br> +The most familiar guest.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Im_wife_Ive_finished_that"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +APOCALYPSE.<br> +<br> +I'm wife; I've finished that,<br> +That other state;<br> +I'm Czar, I'm woman now:<br> +It's safer so.<br> +<br> +How odd the girl's life looks<br> +Behind this soft eclipse!<br> +I think that earth seems so<br> +To those in heaven now.<br> +<br> +This being comfort, then<br> +That other kind was pain;<br> +But why compare?<br> +I'm wife! stop there!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_rose_to_his_requirement_dropped"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +THE WIFE.<br> +<br> +She rose to his requirement, dropped<br> +The playthings of her life<br> +To take the honorable work<br> +Of woman and of wife.<br> +<br> +If aught she missed in her new day<br> +Of amplitude, or awe,<br> +Or first prospective, or the gold<br> +In using wore away,<br> +<br> +It lay unmentioned, as the sea<br> +Develops pearl and weed,<br> +But only to himself is known<br> +The fathoms they abide.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Come_slowly_Eden"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +APOTHEOSIS.<br> +<br> +Come slowly, Eden!<br> +Lips unused to thee,<br> +Bashful, sip thy jasmines,<br> +As the fainting bee,<br> +<br> +Reaching late his flower,<br> +Round her chamber hums,<br> +Counts his nectars — enters,<br> +And is lost in balms!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +III. NATURE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="New_feet_within_my_garden_go"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +New feet within my garden go,<br> +New fingers stir the sod;<br> +A troubadour upon the elm<br> +Betrays the solitude.<br> +<br> +New children play upon the green,<br> +New weary sleep below;<br> +And still the pensive spring returns,<br> +And still the punctual snow!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Pink_small_and_punctual"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +MAY-FLOWER.<br> +<br> +Pink, small, and punctual,<br> +Aromatic, low,<br> +Covert in April,<br> +Candid in May,<br> +<br> +Dear to the moss,<br> +Known by the knoll,<br> +Next to the robin<br> +In every human soul.<br> +<br> +Bold little beauty,<br> +Bedecked with thee,<br> +Nature forswears<br> +Antiquity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_murmur_of_a_bee"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +WHY?<br> +<br> +The murmur of a bee<br> +A witchcraft yieldeth me.<br> +If any ask me why,<br> +'T were easier to die<br> +Than tell.<br> +<br> +The red upon the hill<br> +Taketh away my will;<br> +If anybody sneer,<br> +Take care, for God is here,<br> +That's all.<br> +<br> +The breaking of the day<br> +Addeth to my degree;<br> +If any ask me how,<br> +Artist, who drew me so,<br> +Must tell!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Perhaps_youd_like_to_buy_a_flower"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?<br> +But I could never sell.<br> +If you would like to borrow<br> +Until the daffodil<br> +<br> +Unties her yellow bonnet<br> +Beneath the village door,<br> +Until the bees, from clover rows<br> +Their hock and sherry draw,<br> +<br> +Why, I will lend until just then,<br> +But not an hour more!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_pedigree_of_honey"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +The pedigree of honey<br> +Does not concern the bee;<br> +A clover, any time, to him<br> +Is aristocracy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Some_keep_the_Sabbath_going_to_church"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +A SERVICE OF SONG.<br> +<br> +Some keep the Sabbath going to church;<br> +I keep it staying at home,<br> +With a bobolink for a chorister,<br> +And an orchard for a dome.<br> +<br> +Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;<br> +I just wear my wings,<br> +And instead of tolling the bell for church,<br> +Our little sexton sings.<br> +<br> +God preaches, — a noted clergyman, —<br> +And the sermon is never long;<br> +So instead of getting to heaven at last,<br> +I'm going all along!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_bee_is_not_afraid_of_me"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +The bee is not afraid of me,<br> +I know the butterfly;<br> +The pretty people in the woods<br> +Receive me cordially.<br> +<br> +The brooks laugh louder when I come,<br> +The breezes madder play.<br> +Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?<br> +Wherefore, O summer's day?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Some_rainbow_coming_from_the_fair"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +SUMMER'S ARMIES.<br> +<br> +Some rainbow coming from the fair!<br> +Some vision of the world Cashmere<br> +I confidently see!<br> +Or else a peacock's purple train,<br> +Feather by feather, on the plain<br> +Fritters itself away!<br> +<br> +The dreamy butterflies bestir,<br> +Lethargic pools resume the whir<br> +Of last year's sundered tune.<br> +From some old fortress on the sun<br> +Baronial bees march, one by one,<br> +In murmuring platoon!<br> +<br> +The robins stand as thick to-day<br> +As flakes of snow stood yesterday,<br> +On fence and roof and twig.<br> +The orchis binds her feather on<br> +For her old lover, Don the Sun,<br> +Revisiting the bog!<br> +<br> +Without commander, countless, still,<br> +The regiment of wood and hill<br> +In bright detachment stand.<br> +Behold! Whose multitudes are these?<br> +The children of whose turbaned seas,<br> +Or what Circassian land?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_grass_so_little_has_to_do"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +THE GRASS.<br> +<br> +The grass so little has to do, —<br> +A sphere of simple green,<br> +With only butterflies to brood,<br> +And bees to entertain,<br> +<br> +And stir all day to pretty tunes<br> +The breezes fetch along,<br> +And hold the sunshine in its lap<br> +And bow to everything;<br> +<br> +And thread the dews all night, like pearls,<br> +And make itself so fine, —<br> +A duchess were too common<br> +For such a noticing.<br> +<br> +And even when it dies, to pass<br> +In odors so divine,<br> +As lowly spices gone to sleep,<br> +Or amulets of pine.<br> +<br> +And then to dwell in sovereign barns,<br> +And dream the days away, —<br> +The grass so little has to do,<br> +I wish I were the hay!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_little_road_not_made_of_man"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +A little road not made of man,<br> +Enabled of the eye,<br> +Accessible to thill of bee,<br> +Or cart of butterfly.<br> +<br> +If town it have, beyond itself,<br> +'T is that I cannot say;<br> +I only sigh, — no vehicle<br> +Bears me along that way.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_drop_fell_on_the_apple_tree"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +SUMMER SHOWER.<br> +<br> +A drop fell on the apple tree,<br> +Another on the roof;<br> +A half a dozen kissed the eaves,<br> +And made the gables laugh.<br> +<br> +A few went out to help the brook,<br> +That went to help the sea.<br> +Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,<br> +What necklaces could be!<br> +<br> +The dust replaced in hoisted roads,<br> +The birds jocoser sung;<br> +The sunshine threw his hat away,<br> +The orchards spangles hung.<br> +<br> +The breezes brought dejected lutes,<br> +And bathed them in the glee;<br> +The East put out a single flag,<br> +And signed the fete away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_something_in_a_summers_day"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +PSALM OF THE DAY.<br> +<br> +A something in a summer's day,<br> +As slow her flambeaux burn away,<br> +Which solemnizes me.<br> +<br> +A something in a summer's noon, —<br> +An azure depth, a wordless tune,<br> +Transcending ecstasy.<br> +<br> +And still within a summer's night<br> +A something so transporting bright,<br> +I clap my hands to see;<br> +<br> +Then veil my too inspecting face,<br> +Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace<br> +Flutter too far for me.<br> +<br> +The wizard-fingers never rest,<br> +The purple brook within the breast<br> +Still chafes its narrow bed;<br> +<br> +Still rears the East her amber flag,<br> +Guides still the sun along the crag<br> +His caravan of red,<br> +<br> +Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,<br> +But never deemed the dripping prize<br> +Awaited their low brows;<br> +<br> +Or bees, that thought the summer's name<br> +Some rumor of delirium<br> +No summer could for them;<br> +<br> +Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred<br> +By tropic hint, — some travelled bird<br> +Imported to the wood;<br> +<br> +Or wind's bright signal to the ear,<br> +Making that homely and severe,<br> +Contented, known, before<br> +<br> +The heaven unexpected came,<br> +To lives that thought their worshipping<br> +A too presumptuous psalm.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="This_is_the_land_the_sunset_washes"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +THE SEA OF SUNSET.<br> +<br> +This is the land the sunset washes,<br> +These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;<br> +Where it rose, or whither it rushes,<br> +These are the western mystery!<br> +<br> +Night after night her purple traffic<br> +Strews the landing with opal bales;<br> +Merchantmen poise upon horizons,<br> +Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_is_a_flower_that_bees_prefer"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +PURPLE CLOVER.<br> +<br> +There is a flower that bees prefer,<br> +And butterflies desire;<br> +To gain the purple democrat<br> +The humming-birds aspire.<br> +<br> +And whatsoever insect pass,<br> +A honey bears away<br> +Proportioned to his several dearth<br> +And her capacity.<br> +<br> +Her face is rounder than the moon,<br> +And ruddier than the gown<br> +Of orchis in the pasture,<br> +Or rhododendron worn.<br> +<br> +She doth not wait for June;<br> +Before the world is green<br> +Her sturdy little countenance<br> +Against the wind is seen,<br> +<br> +Contending with the grass,<br> +Near kinsman to herself,<br> +For privilege of sod and sun,<br> +Sweet litigants for life.<br> +<br> +And when the hills are full,<br> +And newer fashions blow,<br> +Doth not retract a single spice<br> +For pang of jealousy.<br> +<br> +Her public is the noon,<br> +Her providence the sun,<br> +Her progress by the bee proclaimed<br> +In sovereign, swerveless tune.<br> +<br> +The bravest of the host,<br> +Surrendering the last,<br> +Nor even of defeat aware<br> +When cancelled by the frost.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Like_trains_of_cars_on_tracks_of_plush"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +THE BEE.<br> +<br> +Like trains of cars on tracks of plush<br> +I hear the level bee:<br> +A jar across the flowers goes,<br> +Their velvet masonry<br> +<br> +Withstands until the sweet assault<br> +Their chivalry consumes,<br> +While he, victorious, tilts away<br> +To vanquish other blooms.<br> +<br> +His feet are shod with gauze,<br> +His helmet is of gold;<br> +His breast, a single onyx<br> +With chrysoprase, inlaid.<br> +<br> +His labor is a chant,<br> +His idleness a tune;<br> +Oh, for a bee's experience<br> +Of clovers and of noon!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Presentiment_is_that_long_shadow_on_the_lawn"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn<br> +Indicative that suns go down;<br> +The notice to the startled grass<br> +That darkness is about to pass.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="As_children_bid_the_guest_good-night"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +As children bid the guest good-night,<br> +And then reluctant turn,<br> +My flowers raise their pretty lips,<br> +Then put their nightgowns on.<br> +<br> +As children caper when they wake,<br> +Merry that it is morn,<br> +My flowers from a hundred cribs<br> +Will peep, and prance again.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Angels_in_the_early_morning"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +Angels in the early morning<br> +May be seen the dews among,<br> +Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:<br> +Do the buds to them belong?<br> +<br> +Angels when the sun is hottest<br> +May be seen the sands among,<br> +Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;<br> +Parched the flowers they bear along.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="So_bashful_when_I_spied_her"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +So bashful when I spied her,<br> +So pretty, so ashamed!<br> +So hidden in her leaflets,<br> +Lest anybody find;<br> +<br> +So breathless till I passed her,<br> +So helpless when I turned<br> +And bore her, struggling, blushing,<br> +Her simple haunts beyond!<br> +<br> +For whom I robbed the dingle,<br> +For whom betrayed the dell,<br> +Many will doubtless ask me,<br> +But I shall never tell!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_makes_no_difference_abroad"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +TWO WORLDS.<br> +<br> +It makes no difference abroad,<br> +The seasons fit the same,<br> +The mornings blossom into noons,<br> +And split their pods of flame.<br> +<br> +Wild-flowers kindle in the woods,<br> +The brooks brag all the day;<br> +No blackbird bates his jargoning<br> +For passing Calvary.<br> +<br> +Auto-da-fe and judgment<br> +Are nothing to the bee;<br> +His separation from his rose<br> +To him seems misery.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_mountain_sat_upon_the_plain"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +THE MOUNTAIN.<br> +<br> +The mountain sat upon the plain<br> +In his eternal chair,<br> +His observation omnifold,<br> +His inquest everywhere.<br> +<br> +The seasons prayed around his knees,<br> +Like children round a sire:<br> +Grandfather of the days is he,<br> +Of dawn the ancestor.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Ill_tell_you_how_the_sun_rose"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +A DAY.<br> +<br> +I'll tell you how the sun rose, —<br> +A ribbon at a time.<br> +The steeples swam in amethyst,<br> +The news like squirrels ran.<br> +<br> +The hills untied their bonnets,<br> +The bobolinks begun.<br> +Then I said softly to myself,<br> +"That must have been the sun!"<br> +<br> + * * *<br> +<br> +But how he set, I know not.<br> +There seemed a purple stile<br> +Which little yellow boys and girls<br> +Were climbing all the while<br> +<br> +Till when they reached the other side,<br> +A dominie in gray<br> +Put gently up the evening bars,<br> +And led the flock away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_butterflys_assumption-gown"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +The butterfly's assumption-gown,<br> +In chrysoprase apartments hung,<br> + This afternoon put on.<br> +<br> +How condescending to descend,<br> +And be of buttercups the friend<br> + In a New England town!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Of_all_the_sounds_despatched_abroad"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +THE WIND.<br> +<br> +Of all the sounds despatched abroad,<br> +There's not a charge to me<br> +Like that old measure in the boughs,<br> +That phraseless melody<br> +<br> +The wind does, working like a hand<br> +Whose fingers brush the sky,<br> +Then quiver down, with tufts of tune<br> +Permitted gods and me.<br> +<br> +When winds go round and round in bands,<br> +And thrum upon the door,<br> +And birds take places overhead,<br> +To bear them orchestra,<br> +<br> +I crave him grace, of summer boughs,<br> +If such an outcast be,<br> +He never heard that fleshless chant<br> +Rise solemn in the tree,<br> +<br> +As if some caravan of sound<br> +On deserts, in the sky,<br> +Had broken rank,<br> +Then knit, and passed<br> +In seamless company.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Apparently_with_no_surprise"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +DEATH AND LIFE.<br> +<br> +Apparently with no surprise<br> +To any happy flower,<br> +The frost beheads it at its play<br> +In accidental power.<br> +The blond assassin passes on,<br> +The sun proceeds unmoved<br> +To measure off another day<br> +For an approving God.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_was_later_when_the_summer_went"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +'T was later when the summer went<br> +Than when the cricket came,<br> +And yet we knew that gentle clock<br> +Meant nought but going home.<br> +<br> +'T was sooner when the cricket went<br> +Than when the winter came,<br> +Yet that pathetic pendulum<br> +Keeps esoteric time.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="These_are_the_days_when_birds_come_back"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +INDIAN SUMMER.<br> +<br> +These are the days when birds come back,<br> +A very few, a bird or two,<br> +To take a backward look.<br> +<br> +These are the days when skies put on<br> +The old, old sophistries of June, —<br> +A blue and gold mistake.<br> +<br> +Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,<br> +Almost thy plausibility<br> +Induces my belief,<br> +<br> +Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,<br> +And softly through the altered air<br> +Hurries a timid leaf!<br> +<br> +Oh, sacrament of summer days,<br> +Oh, last communion in the haze,<br> +Permit a child to join,<br> +<br> +Thy sacred emblems to partake,<br> +Thy consecrated bread to break,<br> +Taste thine immortal wine!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_morns_are_meeker_than_they_were"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +AUTUMN.<br> +<br> +The morns are meeker than they were,<br> +The nuts are getting brown;<br> +The berry's cheek is plumper,<br> +The rose is out of town.<br> +<br> +The maple wears a gayer scarf,<br> +The field a scarlet gown.<br> +Lest I should be old-fashioned,<br> +I'll put a trinket on.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_sky_is_low_the_clouds_are_mean"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +BECLOUDED.<br> +<br> +The sky is low, the clouds are mean,<br> +A travelling flake of snow<br> +Across a barn or through a rut<br> +Debates if it will go.<br> +<br> +A narrow wind complains all day<br> +How some one treated him;<br> +Nature, like us, is sometimes caught<br> +Without her diadem.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_think_the_hemlock_likes_to_stand"></a> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +THE HEMLOCK.<br> +<br> +I think the hemlock likes to stand<br> +Upon a marge of snow;<br> +It suits his own austerity,<br> +And satisfies an awe<br> +<br> +That men must slake in wilderness,<br> +Or in the desert cloy, —<br> +An instinct for the hoar, the bald,<br> +Lapland's necessity.<br> +<br> +The hemlock's nature thrives on cold;<br> +The gnash of northern winds<br> +Is sweetest nutriment to him,<br> +His best Norwegian wines.<br> +<br> +To satin races he is nought;<br> +But children on the Don<br> +Beneath his tabernacles play,<br> +And Dnieper wrestlers run.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Theres_a_certain_slant_of_light"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +There's a certain slant of light,<br> +On winter afternoons,<br> +That oppresses, like the weight<br> +Of cathedral tunes.<br> +<br> +Heavenly hurt it gives us;<br> +We can find no scar,<br> +But internal difference<br> +Where the meanings are.<br> +<br> +None may teach it anything,<br> +'T is the seal, despair, —<br> +An imperial affliction<br> +Sent us of the air.<br> +<br> +When it comes, the landscape listens,<br> +Shadows hold their breath;<br> +When it goes, 't is like the distance<br> +On the look of death.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="One_dignity_delays_for_all"></a> +<br> +<br> +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +One dignity delays for all,<br> +One mitred afternoon.<br> +None can avoid this purple,<br> +None evade this crown.<br> +<br> +Coach it insures, and footmen,<br> +Chamber and state and throng;<br> +Bells, also, in the village,<br> +As we ride grand along.<br> +<br> +What dignified attendants,<br> +What service when we pause!<br> +How loyally at parting<br> +Their hundred hats they raise!<br> +<br> +How pomp surpassing ermine,<br> +When simple you and I<br> +Present our meek escutcheon,<br> +And claim the rank to die!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Delayed_till_she_had_ceased_to_know"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +TOO LATE.<br> +<br> +Delayed till she had ceased to know,<br> +Delayed till in its vest of snow<br> + Her loving bosom lay.<br> +An hour behind the fleeting breath,<br> +Later by just an hour than death, —<br> + Oh, lagging yesterday!<br> +<br> +Could she have guessed that it would be;<br> +Could but a crier of the glee<br> + Have climbed the distant hill;<br> +Had not the bliss so slow a pace, —<br> +Who knows but this surrendered face<br> + Were undefeated still?<br> +<br> +Oh, if there may departing be<br> +Any forgot by victory<br> + In her imperial round,<br> +Show them this meek apparelled thing,<br> +That could not stop to be a king,<br> + Doubtful if it be crowned!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Departed_to_the_judgment"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +ASTRA CASTRA.<br> +<br> +Departed to the judgment,<br> +A mighty afternoon;<br> +Great clouds like ushers leaning,<br> +Creation looking on.<br> +<br> +The flesh surrendered, cancelled,<br> +The bodiless begun;<br> +Two worlds, like audiences, disperse<br> +And leave the soul alone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Safe_in_their_alabaster_chambers"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +Safe in their alabaster chambers,<br> +Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,<br> +Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,<br> +Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.<br> +<br> +Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine;<br> +Babbles the bee in a stolid ear;<br> +Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence, —<br> +Ah, what sagacity perished here!<br> +<br> +Grand go the years in the crescent above them;<br> +Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,<br> +Diadems drop and Doges surrender,<br> +Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="On_this_long_storm_the_rainbow_rose"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +On this long storm the rainbow rose,<br> +On this late morn the sun;<br> +The clouds, like listless elephants,<br> +Horizons straggled down.<br> +<br> +The birds rose smiling in their nests,<br> +The gales indeed were done;<br> +Alas! how heedless were the eyes<br> +On whom the summer shone!<br> +<br> +The quiet nonchalance of death<br> +No daybreak can bestir;<br> +The slow archangel's syllables<br> +Must awaken her.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_cocoon_tightens_colors_tease"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +FROM THE CHRYSALIS.<br> +<br> +My cocoon tightens, colors tease,<br> +I'm feeling for the air;<br> +A dim capacity for wings<br> +Degrades the dress I wear.<br> +<br> +A power of butterfly must be<br> +The aptitude to fly,<br> +Meadows of majesty concedes<br> +And easy sweeps of sky.<br> +<br> +So I must baffle at the hint<br> +And cipher at the sign,<br> +And make much blunder, if at last<br> +I take the clew divine.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Exultation_is_the_going"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +SETTING SAIL.<br> +<br> +Exultation is the going<br> +Of an inland soul to sea, —<br> +Past the houses, past the headlands,<br> +Into deep eternity!<br> +<br> +Bred as we, among the mountains,<br> +Can the sailor understand<br> +The divine intoxication<br> +Of the first league out from land?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Look_back_on_time_with_kindly_eyes"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +Look back on time with kindly eyes,<br> +He doubtless did his best;<br> +How softly sinks his trembling sun<br> +In human nature's west!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +A train went through a burial gate,<br> +A bird broke forth and sang,<br> +And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat<br> +Till all the churchyard rang;<br> +<br> +And then adjusted his little notes,<br> +And bowed and sang again.<br> +Doubtless, he thought it meet of him<br> +To say good-by to men.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_died_for_beauty_but_was_scarce"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +I died for beauty, but was scarce<br> +Adjusted in the tomb,<br> +When one who died for truth was lain<br> +In an adjoining room.<br> +<br> +He questioned softly why I failed?<br> +"For beauty," I replied.<br> +"And I for truth, — the two are one;<br> +We brethren are," he said.<br> +<br> +And so, as kinsmen met a night,<br> +We talked between the rooms,<br> +Until the moss had reached our lips,<br> +And covered up our names.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="How_many_times_these_low_feet_staggered"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +"TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS."<br> +<br> +How many times these low feet staggered,<br> +Only the soldered mouth can tell;<br> +Try! can you stir the awful rivet?<br> +Try! can you lift the hasps of steel?<br> +<br> +Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often,<br> +Lift, if you can, the listless hair;<br> +Handle the adamantine fingers<br> +Never a thimble more shall wear.<br> +<br> +Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window;<br> +Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane;<br> +Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling —<br> +Indolent housewife, in daisies lain!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_like_a_look_of_agony"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +REAL.<br> +<br> +I like a look of agony,<br> +Because I know it 's true;<br> +Men do not sham convulsion,<br> +Nor simulate a throe.<br> +<br> +The eyes glaze once, and that is death.<br> +Impossible to feign<br> +The beads upon the forehead<br> +By homely anguish strung.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="That_short_potential_stir"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +THE FUNERAL.<br> +<br> +That short, potential stir<br> +That each can make but once,<br> +That bustle so illustrious<br> +'T is almost consequence,<br> +<br> +Is the eclat of death.<br> +Oh, thou unknown renown<br> +That not a beggar would accept,<br> +Had he the power to spurn!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_went_to_thank_her"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +I went to thank her,<br> +But she slept;<br> +Her bed a funnelled stone,<br> +With nosegays at the head and foot,<br> +That travellers had thrown,<br> +<br> +Who went to thank her;<br> +But she slept.<br> +'T was short to cross the sea<br> +To look upon her like, alive,<br> +But turning back 't was slow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Ive_seen_a_dying_eye"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +I've seen a dying eye<br> +Run round and round a room<br> +In search of something, as it seemed,<br> +Then cloudier become;<br> +And then, obscure with fog,<br> +And then be soldered down,<br> +Without disclosing what it be,<br> +'T were blessed to have seen.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_clouds_their_backs_together_laid"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +REFUGE.<br> +<br> +The clouds their backs together laid,<br> +The north begun to push,<br> +The forests galloped till they fell,<br> +The lightning skipped like mice;<br> +The thunder crumbled like a stuff —<br> +How good to be safe in tombs,<br> +Where nature's temper cannot reach,<br> +Nor vengeance ever comes!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_never_saw_a_moor"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +I never saw a moor,<br> +I never saw the sea;<br> +Yet know I how the heather looks,<br> +And what a wave must be.<br> +<br> +I never spoke with God,<br> +Nor visited in heaven;<br> +Yet certain am I of the spot<br> +As if the chart were given.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="God_permits_industrious_angels"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +PLAYMATES.<br> +<br> +God permits industrious angels<br> +Afternoons to play.<br> +I met one, — forgot my school-mates,<br> +All, for him, straightway.<br> +<br> +God calls home the angels promptly<br> +At the setting sun;<br> +I missed mine. How dreary marbles,<br> +After playing Crown!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_know_just_how_he_suffered_would_be_dear"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +To know just how he suffered would be dear;<br> +To know if any human eyes were near<br> +To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze,<br> +Until it settled firm on Paradise.<br> +<br> +To know if he was patient, part content,<br> +Was dying as he thought, or different;<br> +Was it a pleasant day to die,<br> +And did the sunshine face his way?<br> +<br> +What was his furthest mind, of home, or God,<br> +Or what the distant say<br> +At news that he ceased human nature<br> +On such a day?<br> +<br> +And wishes, had he any?<br> +Just his sigh, accented,<br> +Had been legible to me.<br> +And was he confident until<br> +Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?<br> +<br> +And if he spoke, what name was best,<br> +What first,<br> +What one broke off with<br> +At the drowsiest?<br> +<br> +Was he afraid, or tranquil?<br> +Might he know<br> +How conscious consciousness could grow,<br> +Till love that was, and love too blest to be,<br> +Meet — and the junction be Eternity?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_last_night_that_she_lived"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +The last night that she lived,<br> +It was a common night,<br> +Except the dying; this to us<br> +Made nature different.<br> +<br> +We noticed smallest things, —<br> +Things overlooked before,<br> +By this great light upon our minds<br> +Italicized, as 't were.<br> +<br> +That others could exist<br> +While she must finish quite,<br> +A jealousy for her arose<br> +So nearly infinite.<br> +<br> +We waited while she passed;<br> +It was a narrow time,<br> +Too jostled were our souls to speak,<br> +At length the notice came.<br> +<br> +She mentioned, and forgot;<br> +Then lightly as a reed<br> +Bent to the water, shivered scarce,<br> +Consented, and was dead.<br> +<br> +And we, we placed the hair,<br> +And drew the head erect;<br> +And then an awful leisure was,<br> +Our faith to regulate.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Not_in_this_world_to_see_his_face"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +THE FIRST LESSON.<br> +<br> +Not in this world to see his face<br> +Sounds long, until I read the place<br> +Where this is said to be<br> +But just the primer to a life<br> +Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,<br> +Clasped yet to him and me.<br> +<br> +And yet, my primer suits me so<br> +I would not choose a book to know<br> +Than that, be sweeter wise;<br> +Might some one else so learned be,<br> +And leave me just my A B C,<br> +Himself could have the skies.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_bustle_in_a_house"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +The bustle in a house<br> +The morning after death<br> +Is solemnest of industries<br> +Enacted upon earth, —<br> +<br> +The sweeping up the heart,<br> +And putting love away<br> +We shall not want to use again<br> +Until eternity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_reason_earth_is_short"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +I reason, earth is short,<br> +And anguish absolute,<br> +And many hurt;<br> +But what of that?<br> +<br> +I reason, we could die:<br> +The best vitality<br> +Cannot excel decay;<br> +But what of that?<br> +<br> +I reason that in heaven<br> +Somehow, it will be even,<br> +Some new equation given;<br> +But what of that?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Afraid_Of_whom_am_I_afraid"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?<br> +Not death; for who is he?<br> +The porter of my father's lodge<br> +As much abasheth me.<br> +<br> +Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing<br> +That comprehendeth me<br> +In one or more existences<br> +At Deity's decree.<br> +<br> +Of resurrection? Is the east<br> +Afraid to trust the morn<br> +With her fastidious forehead?<br> +As soon impeach my crown!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_sun_kept_setting_setting_still"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +DYING.<br> +<br> +The sun kept setting, setting still;<br> +No hue of afternoon<br> +Upon the village I perceived, —<br> +From house to house 't was noon.<br> +<br> +The dusk kept dropping, dropping still;<br> +No dew upon the grass,<br> +But only on my forehead stopped,<br> +And wandered in my face.<br> +<br> +My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still,<br> +My fingers were awake;<br> +Yet why so little sound myself<br> +Unto my seeming make?<br> +<br> +How well I knew the light before!<br> +I could not see it now.<br> +'T is dying, I am doing; but<br> +I'm not afraid to know.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Two_swimmers_wrestled_on_the_spar"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +Two swimmers wrestled on the spar<br> +Until the morning sun,<br> +When one turned smiling to the land.<br> +O God, the other one!<br> +<br> +The stray ships passing spied a face<br> +Upon the waters borne,<br> +With eyes in death still begging raised,<br> +And hands beseeching thrown.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Because_I_could_not_stop_for_Death"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +THE CHARIOT.<br> +<br> +Because I could not stop for Death,<br> +He kindly stopped for me;<br> +The carriage held but just ourselves<br> +And Immortality.<br> +<br> +We slowly drove, he knew no haste,<br> +And I had put away<br> +My labor, and my leisure too,<br> +For his civility.<br> +<br> +We passed the school where children played,<br> +Their lessons scarcely done;<br> +We passed the fields of gazing grain,<br> +We passed the setting sun.<br> +<br> +We paused before a house that seemed<br> +A swelling of the ground;<br> +The roof was scarcely visible,<br> +The cornice but a mound.<br> +<br> +Since then 't is centuries; but each<br> +Feels shorter than the day<br> +I first surmised the horses' heads<br> +Were toward eternity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_went_as_quiet_as_the_dew"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +She went as quiet as the dew<br> +From a familiar flower.<br> +Not like the dew did she return<br> +At the accustomed hour!<br> +<br> +She dropt as softly as a star<br> +From out my summer's eve;<br> +Less skilful than Leverrier<br> +It's sorer to believe!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="At_last_to_be_identified"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +RESURGAM.<br> +<br> +At last to be identified!<br> +At last, the lamps upon thy side,<br> +The rest of life to see!<br> +Past midnight, past the morning star!<br> +Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are<br> +Between our feet and day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Except_to_heaven_she_is_nought"></a> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +Except to heaven, she is nought;<br> +Except for angels, lone;<br> +Except to some wide-wandering bee,<br> +A flower superfluous blown;<br> +<br> +Except for winds, provincial;<br> +Except by butterflies,<br> +Unnoticed as a single dew<br> +That on the acre lies.<br> +<br> +The smallest housewife in the grass,<br> +Yet take her from the lawn,<br> +And somebody has lost the face<br> +That made existence home!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Death_is_a_dialogue_between"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +Death is a dialogue between<br> +The spirit and the dust.<br> +"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir,<br> +I have another trust."<br> +<br> +Death doubts it, argues from the ground.<br> +The Spirit turns away,<br> +Just laying off, for evidence,<br> +An overcoat of clay.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_was_too_late_for_man"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +It was too late for man,<br> +But early yet for God;<br> +Creation impotent to help,<br> +But prayer remained our side.<br> +<br> +How excellent the heaven,<br> +When earth cannot be had;<br> +How hospitable, then, the face<br> +Of our old neighbor, God!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="When_I_was_small_a_woman_died"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +ALONG THE POTOMAC.<br> +<br> +When I was small, a woman died.<br> +To-day her only boy<br> +Went up from the Potomac,<br> +His face all victory,<br> +<br> +To look at her; how slowly<br> +The seasons must have turned<br> +Till bullets clipt an angle,<br> +And he passed quickly round!<br> +<br> +If pride shall be in Paradise<br> +I never can decide;<br> +Of their imperial conduct,<br> +No person testified.<br> +<br> +But proud in apparition,<br> +That woman and her boy<br> +Pass back and forth before my brain,<br> +As ever in the sky.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_daisy_follows_soft_the_sun"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +The daisy follows soft the sun,<br> +And when his golden walk is done,<br> + Sits shyly at his feet.<br> +He, waking, finds the flower near.<br> +"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?"<br> + "Because, sir, love is sweet!"<br> +<br> +We are the flower, Thou the sun!<br> +Forgive us, if as days decline,<br> + We nearer steal to Thee, —<br> +Enamoured of the parting west,<br> +The peace, the flight, the amethyst,<br> + Night's possibility!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="No_rack_can_torture_me"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +EMANCIPATION.<br> +<br> +No rack can torture me,<br> +My soul's at liberty<br> +Behind this mortal bone<br> +There knits a bolder one<br> +<br> +You cannot prick with saw,<br> +Nor rend with scymitar.<br> +Two bodies therefore be;<br> +Bind one, and one will flee.<br> +<br> +The eagle of his nest<br> +No easier divest<br> +And gain the sky,<br> +Than mayest thou,<br> +<br> +Except thyself may be<br> +Thine enemy;<br> +Captivity is consciousness,<br> +So's liberty.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_lost_a_world_the_other_day"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +LOST.<br> +<br> +I lost a world the other day.<br> +Has anybody found?<br> +You'll know it by the row of stars<br> +Around its forehead bound.<br> +<br> +A rich man might not notice it;<br> +Yet to my frugal eye<br> +Of more esteem than ducats.<br> +Oh, find it, sir, for me!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_I_shouldnt_be_alive"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +If I shouldn't be alive<br> +When the robins come,<br> +Give the one in red cravat<br> +A memorial crumb.<br> +<br> +If I couldn't thank you,<br> +Being just asleep,<br> +You will know I'm trying<br> +With my granite lip!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Sleep_is_supposed_to_be"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +Sleep is supposed to be,<br> +By souls of sanity,<br> +The shutting of the eye.<br> +<br> +Sleep is the station grand<br> +Down which on either hand<br> +The hosts of witness stand!<br> +<br> +Morn is supposed to be,<br> +By people of degree,<br> +The breaking of the day.<br> +<br> +Morning has not occurred!<br> +That shall aurora be<br> +East of eternity;<br> +<br> +One with the banner gay,<br> +One in the red array, —<br> +That is the break of day.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_shall_know_why_when_time_is_over"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +I shall know why, when time is over,<br> +And I have ceased to wonder why;<br> +Christ will explain each separate anguish<br> +In the fair schoolroom of the sky.<br> +<br> +He will tell me what Peter promised,<br> +And I, for wonder at his woe,<br> +I shall forget the drop of anguish<br> +That scalds me now, that scalds me now.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_never_lost_as_much_but_twice"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +I never lost as much but twice,<br> +And that was in the sod;<br> +Twice have I stood a beggar<br> +Before the door of God!<br> +<br> +Angels, twice descending,<br> +Reimbursed my store.<br> +Burglar, banker, father,<br> +I am poor once more!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<br> + +<a name="Series_Two"> </a> +<h2>POEMS</h2> + + +<h2>by EMILY DICKINSON</h2> + +<h2>Second Series</h2> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + +<p>Edited by two of her friends</p> + +<p>MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + +<p>PREFACE</p> + +<p>The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily Dickinson's +poems has been read shows very clearly that all our alleged modern +artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation of the +qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the greatest +themes,—life and love and death. That "irresistible needle-touch," +as one of her best critics has called it, piercing at once the very +core of a thought, has found a response as wide and sympathetic as +it has been unexpected even to those who knew best her compelling +power. This second volume, while open to the same criticism as to +form with its predecessor, shows also the same shining beauties.</p> + +<p>Although Emily Dickinson had been in the habit of sending +occasional poems to friends and correspondents, the full extent of +her writing was by no means imagined by them. Her friend "H.H." +must at least have suspected it, for in a letter dated 5th +September, 1884, she wrote:—</p> + + +<p class="indent">MY DEAR FRIEND,— What portfolios full of verses +you must have! It is a cruel wrong to your "day and +generation" that you will not give them light.</p> + +<p class="indent">If such a thing should happen as that I should outlive +you, I wish you would make me your literary legatee +and executor. Surely after you are what is called +"dead" you will be willing that the poor ghosts you +have left behind should be cheered and pleased by your +verses, will you not? You ought to be. I do not think +we have a right to withhold from the world a word or +a thought any more than a deed which might help a +single soul. . . .</p> + +<p class="indent"> Truly yours,</p> + +<p class="indent"> HELEN JACKSON.</p> + + +<p>The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death, +by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most of the poems had +been carefully copied on sheets of note-paper, and tied in little +fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many of them bear +evidence of having been thrown off at white heat, still more had +received thoughtful revision. There is the frequent addition of +rather perplexing foot-notes, affording large choice of words and +phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends, sometimes one +form, sometimes another, is found to have been used. Without +important exception, her friends have generously placed at the +disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and +these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among several +renderings of the same verse.</p> + +<p>To what further rigorous pruning her verses would have been +subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know. They +should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong and +suggestive sketches of an artist, intended to be embodied at some +time in the finished picture.</p> + +<p>Emily Dickinson appears to have written her first poems in the +winter of 1862. In a letter to one of the present Editors the +April following, she says, "I made no verse, but one or two, until +this winter."</p> + +<p>The handwriting was at first somewhat like the delicate, running +Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she advanced in +breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt, until in her +latest years each letter stood distinct and separate from its +fellows. In most of her poems, particularly the later ones, +everything by way of punctuation was discarded, except numerous +dashes; and all important words began with capitals. The effect of +a page of her more recent manuscript is exceedingly quaint and +strong. The fac-simile given in the present volume is from one of +the earlier transition periods. Although there is nowhere a date, +the handwriting makes it possible to arrange the poems with general +chronologic accuracy.</p> + +<p>As a rule, the verses were without titles; but "A Country Burial," +"A Thunder-Storm," "The Humming-Bird," and a few others were named +by their author, frequently at the end,—sometimes only in the +accompanying note, if sent to a friend.</p> + +<p>The variation of readings, with the fact that she often wrote in +pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown a good deal of +responsibility upon her Editors. But all interference not +absolutely inevitable has been avoided. The very roughness of her +rendering is part of herself, and not lightly to be touched; for it +seems in many cases that she intentionally avoided the smoother and +more usual rhymes.</p> + +<p>Like impressionist pictures, or Wagner's rugged music, the very +absence of conventional form challenges attention. In Emily +Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic fitness of a +particular order of words might not be sacrificed to anything +virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange cadence of +inner rhythmical music. Lines are always daringly constructed, and +the "thought-rhyme" appears frequently,—appealing, indeed, to an +unrecognized sense more elusive than hearing.</p> + +<p>Emily Dickinson scrutinized everything with clear-eyed frankness. +Every subject was proper ground for legitimate study, even the +sombre facts of death and burial, and the unknown life beyond. She +touches these themes sometimes lightly, sometimes almost +humorously, more often with weird and peculiar power; but she is +never by any chance frivolous or trivial. And while, as one critic +has said, she may exhibit toward God "an Emersonian self-possession," +it was because she looked upon all life with a candor as unprejudiced +as it is rare.</p> + +<p>She had tried society and the world, and found them lacking. She +was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no +love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature +introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist +in pretence.</p> + +<p>Storm, wind, the wild March sky, sunsets and dawns; the birds and +bees, butterflies and flowers of her garden, with a few trusted +human friends, were sufficient companionship. The coming of the +first robin was a jubilee beyond crowning of monarch or birthday of +pope; the first red leaf hurrying through "the altered air," an +epoch. Immortality was close about her; and while never morbid or +melancholy, she lived in its presence.</p> + +<p class="indent"> MABEL LOOMIS TODD.</p> + +<p class="indent"> AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS,</p> +<p class="indent"> August, 1891.</p> + + +<hr width="100" align="left"> + + +<p class="indent"> +My nosegays are for captives;<br> + Dim, long-expectant eyes,<br> +Fingers denied the plucking,<br> + Patient till paradise,<br> +<br> +To such, if they should whisper<br> + Of morning and the moor,<br> +They bear no other errand,<br> + And I, no other prayer.<br> +</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="Im_nobody_Who_are_you"></a> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I. LIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +I'm nobody! Who are you?<br> +Are you nobody, too?<br> +Then there 's a pair of us — don't tell!<br> +They 'd banish us, you know.<br> +<br> +How dreary to be somebody!<br> +How public, like a frog<br> +To tell your name the livelong day<br> +To an admiring bog!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_bring_an_unaccustomed_wine"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +I bring an unaccustomed wine<br> +To lips long parching, next to mine,<br> +And summon them to drink.<br> +<br> +Crackling with fever, they essay;<br> +I turn my brimming eyes away,<br> +And come next hour to look.<br> +<br> +The hands still hug the tardy glass;<br> +The lips I would have cooled, alas!<br> +Are so superfluous cold,<br> +<br> +I would as soon attempt to warm<br> +The bosoms where the frost has lain<br> +Ages beneath the mould.<br> +<br> +Some other thirsty there may be<br> +To whom this would have pointed me<br> +Had it remained to speak.<br> +<br> +And so I always bear the cup<br> +If, haply, mine may be the drop<br> +Some pilgrim thirst to slake, —<br> +<br> +If, haply, any say to me,<br> +"Unto the little, unto me,"<br> +When I at last awake.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_nearest_dream_recedes_unrealized"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.<br> + The heaven we chase<br> + Like the June bee<br> + Before the school-boy<br> + Invites the race;<br> + Stoops to an easy clover —<br> +Dips — evades — teases — deploys;<br> + Then to the royal clouds<br> + Lifts his light pinnace<br> + Heedless of the boy<br> +Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.<br> +<br> + Homesick for steadfast honey,<br> + Ah! the bee flies not<br> +That brews that rare variety.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_play_at_paste"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +We play at paste,<br> +Till qualified for pearl,<br> +Then drop the paste,<br> +And deem ourself a fool.<br> +The shapes, though, were similar,<br> +And our new hands<br> +Learned gem-tactics<br> +Practising sands.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_found_the_phrase_to_every_thought"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +I found the phrase to every thought<br> +I ever had, but one;<br> +And that defies me, — as a hand<br> +Did try to chalk the sun<br> +<br> +To races nurtured in the dark; —<br> +How would your own begin?<br> +Can blaze be done in cochineal,<br> +Or noon in mazarin?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Hope_is_the_thing_with_feathers"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +HOPE.<br> +<br> +Hope is the thing with feathers<br> +That perches in the soul,<br> +And sings the tune without the words,<br> +And never stops at all,<br> +<br> +And sweetest in the gale is heard;<br> +And sore must be the storm<br> +That could abash the little bird<br> +That kept so many warm.<br> +<br> +I 've heard it in the chillest land,<br> +And on the strangest sea;<br> +Yet, never, in extremity,<br> +It asked a crumb of me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Dare_you_see_a_soul_at_the_white_heat"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +THE WHITE HEAT.<br> +<br> +Dare you see a soul at the white heat?<br> + Then crouch within the door.<br> +Red is the fire's common tint;<br> + But when the vivid ore<br> +<br> +Has sated flame's conditions,<br> + Its quivering substance plays<br> +Without a color but the light<br> + Of unanointed blaze.<br> +<br> +Least village boasts its blacksmith,<br> + Whose anvil's even din<br> +Stands symbol for the finer forge<br> + That soundless tugs within,<br> +<br> +Refining these impatient ores<br> + With hammer and with blaze,<br> +Until the designated light<br> + Repudiate the forge.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Who_never_lost_are_unprepared"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +TRIUMPHANT.<br> +<br> +Who never lost, are unprepared<br> +A coronet to find;<br> +Who never thirsted, flagons<br> +And cooling tamarind.<br> +<br> +Who never climbed the weary league —<br> +Can such a foot explore<br> +The purple territories<br> +On Pizarro's shore?<br> +<br> +How many legions overcome?<br> +The emperor will say.<br> +How many colors taken<br> +On Revolution Day?<br> +<br> +How many bullets bearest?<br> +The royal scar hast thou?<br> +Angels, write "Promoted"<br> +On this soldier's brow!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_can_wade_grief"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +THE TEST.<br> +<br> +I can wade grief,<br> +Whole pools of it, —<br> +I 'm used to that.<br> +But the least push of joy<br> +Breaks up my feet,<br> +And I tip — drunken.<br> +Let no pebble smile,<br> +'T was the new liquor, —<br> +That was all!<br> +<br> +Power is only pain,<br> +Stranded, through discipline,<br> +Till weights will hang.<br> +Give balm to giants,<br> +And they 'll wilt, like men.<br> +Give Himmaleh, —<br> +They 'll carry him!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_never_hear_the_word_escape"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +ESCAPE.<br> +<br> +I never hear the word "escape"<br> +Without a quicker blood,<br> +A sudden expectation,<br> +A flying attitude.<br> +<br> +I never hear of prisons broad<br> +By soldiers battered down,<br> +But I tug childish at my bars, —<br> +Only to fail again!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="For_each_ecstatic_instant"></a> +<br> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +COMPENSATION.<br> +<br> +For each ecstatic instant<br> +We must an anguish pay<br> +In keen and quivering ratio<br> +To the ecstasy.<br> +<br> +For each beloved hour<br> +Sharp pittances of years,<br> +Bitter contested farthings<br> +And coffers heaped with tears.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Through_the_straight_pass_of_suffering"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +THE MARTYRS.<br> +<br> +Through the straight pass of suffering<br> +The martyrs even trod,<br> +Their feet upon temptation,<br> +Their faces upon God.<br> +<br> +A stately, shriven company;<br> +Convulsion playing round,<br> +Harmless as streaks of meteor<br> +Upon a planet's bound.<br> +<br> +Their faith the everlasting troth;<br> +Their expectation fair;<br> +The needle to the north degree<br> +Wades so, through polar air.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_meant_to_have_but_modest_needs"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +A PRAYER.<br> +<br> +I meant to have but modest needs,<br> +Such as content, and heaven;<br> +Within my income these could lie,<br> +And life and I keep even.<br> +<br> +But since the last included both,<br> +It would suffice my prayer<br> +But just for one to stipulate,<br> +And grace would grant the pair.<br> +<br> +And so, upon this wise I prayed, —<br> +Great Spirit, give to me<br> +A heaven not so large as yours,<br> +But large enough for me.<br> +<br> +A smile suffused Jehovah's face;<br> +The cherubim withdrew;<br> +Grave saints stole out to look at me,<br> +And showed their dimples, too.<br> +<br> +I left the place with all my might, —<br> +My prayer away I threw;<br> +The quiet ages picked it up,<br> +And Judgment twinkled, too,<br> +<br> +That one so honest be extant<br> +As take the tale for true<br> +That "Whatsoever you shall ask,<br> +Itself be given you."<br> +<br> +But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies<br> +With a suspicious air, —<br> +As children, swindled for the first,<br> +All swindlers be, infer.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_thought_beneath_so_slight_a_film"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +The thought beneath so slight a film<br> +Is more distinctly seen, —<br> +As laces just reveal the surge,<br> +Or mists the Apennine.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_soul_unto_itself"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +The soul unto itself<br> +Is an imperial friend, —<br> +Or the most agonizing spy<br> +An enemy could send.<br> +<br> +Secure against its own,<br> +No treason it can fear;<br> +Itself its sovereign, of itself<br> +The soul should stand in awe.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Surgeons_must_be_very_careful"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +Surgeons must be very careful<br> +When they take the knife!<br> +Underneath their fine incisions<br> +Stirs the culprit, — Life!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_like_to_see_it_lap_the_miles"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +THE RAILWAY TRAIN.<br> +<br> +I like to see it lap the miles,<br> +And lick the valleys up,<br> +And stop to feed itself at tanks;<br> +And then, prodigious, step<br> +<br> +Around a pile of mountains,<br> +And, supercilious, peer<br> +In shanties by the sides of roads;<br> +And then a quarry pare<br> +<br> +To fit its sides, and crawl between,<br> +Complaining all the while<br> +In horrid, hooting stanza;<br> +Then chase itself down hill<br> +<br> +And neigh like Boanerges;<br> +Then, punctual as a star,<br> +Stop — docile and omnipotent —<br> +At its own stable door.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_show_is_not_the_show"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +THE SHOW.<br> +<br> +The show is not the show,<br> +But they that go.<br> +Menagerie to me<br> +My neighbor be.<br> +Fair play —<br> +Both went to see.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Delight_becomes_pictorial"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +Delight becomes pictorial<br> +When viewed through pain, —<br> +More fair, because impossible<br> +That any gain.<br> +<br> +The mountain at a given distance<br> +In amber lies;<br> +Approached, the amber flits a little, —<br> +And that 's the skies!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_thought_went_up_my_mind_to-day"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +A thought went up my mind to-day<br> +That I have had before,<br> +But did not finish, — some way back,<br> +I could not fix the year,<br> +<br> +Nor where it went, nor why it came<br> +The second time to me,<br> +Nor definitely what it was,<br> +Have I the art to say.<br> +<br> +But somewhere in my soul, I know<br> +I 've met the thing before;<br> +It just reminded me — 't was all —<br> +And came my way no more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Is_Heaven_a_physician"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +Is Heaven a physician?<br> +They say that He can heal,<br> +But medicine posthumous<br> + Is unavailable.<br> +<br> +Is Heaven an exchequer?<br> + They speak of what we owe;<br> +But that negotiation<br> + I 'm not a party to.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Though_I_get_home_how_late_how_late"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +THE RETURN.<br> +<br> +Though I get home how late, how late!<br> +So I get home, 't will compensate.<br> +Better will be the ecstasy<br> +That they have done expecting me,<br> +When, night descending, dumb and dark,<br> +They hear my unexpected knock.<br> +Transporting must the moment be,<br> +Brewed from decades of agony!<br> +<br> +To think just how the fire will burn,<br> +Just how long-cheated eyes will turn<br> +To wonder what myself will say,<br> +And what itself will say to me,<br> +Beguiles the centuries of way!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_poor_torn_heart_a_tattered_heart"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +A poor torn heart, a tattered heart,<br> +That sat it down to rest,<br> +Nor noticed that the ebbing day<br> +Flowed silver to the west,<br> +Nor noticed night did soft descend<br> +Nor constellation burn,<br> +Intent upon the vision<br> +Of latitudes unknown.<br> +<br> +The angels, happening that way,<br> +This dusty heart espied;<br> +Tenderly took it up from toil<br> +And carried it to God.<br> +There, — sandals for the barefoot;<br> +There, — gathered from the gales,<br> +Do the blue havens by the hand<br> +Lead the wandering sails.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_should_have_been_too_glad_I_see"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +TOO MUCH.<br> +<br> +I should have been too glad, I see,<br> +Too lifted for the scant degree<br> + Of life's penurious round;<br> +My little circuit would have shamed<br> +This new circumference, have blamed<br> + The homelier time behind.<br> +<br> +I should have been too saved, I see,<br> +Too rescued; fear too dim to me<br> + That I could spell the prayer<br> +I knew so perfect yesterday, —<br> +That scalding one, "Sabachthani,"<br> + Recited fluent here.<br> +<br> +Earth would have been too much, I see,<br> +And heaven not enough for me;<br> + I should have had the joy<br> +Without the fear to justify, —<br> +The palm without the Calvary;<br> + So, Saviour, crucify.<br> +<br> +Defeat whets victory, they say;<br> +The reefs in old Gethsemane<br> + Endear the shore beyond.<br> +'T is beggars banquets best define;<br> +'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, —<br> + Faith faints to understand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_tossed_and_tossed"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +SHIPWRECK.<br> +<br> +It tossed and tossed, —<br> +A little brig I knew, —<br> +O'ertook by blast,<br> +It spun and spun,<br> +And groped delirious, for morn.<br> +<br> +It slipped and slipped,<br> +As one that drunken stepped;<br> +Its white foot tripped,<br> +Then dropped from sight.<br> +<br> +Ah, brig, good-night<br> +To crew and you;<br> +The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue,<br> +To break for you.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Victory_comes_late"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +Victory comes late,<br> +And is held low to freezing lips<br> +Too rapt with frost<br> +To take it.<br> +How sweet it would have tasted,<br> +Just a drop!<br> +Was God so economical?<br> +His table 's spread too high for us<br> +Unless we dine on tip-toe.<br> +Crumbs fit such little mouths,<br> +Cherries suit robins;<br> +The eagle's golden breakfast<br> +Strangles them.<br> +God keeps his oath to sparrows,<br> +Who of little love<br> +Know how to starve!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="God_gave_a_loaf_to_every_bird"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +ENOUGH.<br> +<br> +God gave a loaf to every bird,<br> +But just a crumb to me;<br> +I dare not eat it, though I starve, —<br> +My poignant luxury<br> +To own it, touch it, prove the feat<br> +That made the pellet mine, —<br> +Too happy in my sparrow chance<br> +For ampler coveting.<br> +<br> +It might be famine all around,<br> +I could not miss an ear,<br> +Such plenty smiles upon my board,<br> +My garner shows so fair.<br> +I wonder how the rich may feel, —<br> +An Indiaman — an Earl?<br> +I deem that I with but a crumb<br> +Am sovereign of them all.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Experiment_to_me"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +Experiment to me<br> +Is every one I meet.<br> +If it contain a kernel?<br> +The figure of a nut<br> +<br> +Presents upon a tree,<br> +Equally plausibly;<br> +But meat within is requisite,<br> +To squirrels and to me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_country_need_not_change_her_gown"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.<br> +<br> +My country need not change her gown,<br> +Her triple suit as sweet<br> +As when 't was cut at Lexington,<br> +And first pronounced "a fit."<br> +<br> +Great Britain disapproves "the stars;"<br> +Disparagement discreet, —<br> +There 's something in their attitude<br> +That taunts her bayonet.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +Faith is a fine invention<br> +For gentlemen who see;<br> +But microscopes are prudent<br> +In an emergency!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Except_the_heaven_had_come_so_near"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +Except the heaven had come so near,<br> +So seemed to choose my door,<br> +The distance would not haunt me so;<br> +I had not hoped before.<br> +<br> +But just to hear the grace depart<br> +I never thought to see,<br> +Afflicts me with a double loss;<br> +'T is lost, and lost to me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Portraits_are_to_daily_faces"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +Portraits are to daily faces<br> +As an evening west<br> +To a fine, pedantic sunshine<br> +In a satin vest.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_took_my_power_in_my_hand"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +THE DUEL.<br> +<br> +I took my power in my hand.<br> +And went against the world;<br> +'T was not so much as David had,<br> +But I was twice as bold.<br> +<br> +I aimed my pebble, but myself<br> +Was all the one that fell.<br> +Was it Goliath was too large,<br> +Or only I too small?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_shady_friend_for_torrid_days"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +A shady friend for torrid days<br> +Is easier to find<br> +Than one of higher temperature<br> +For frigid hour of mind.<br> +<br> +The vane a little to the east<br> +Scares muslin souls away;<br> +If broadcloth breasts are firmer<br> +Than those of organdy,<br> +<br> +Who is to blame? The weaver?<br> +Ah! the bewildering thread!<br> +The tapestries of paradise<br> +So notelessly are made!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Each_life_converges_to_some_centre"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +THE GOAL.<br> +<br> +Each life converges to some centre<br> +Expressed or still;<br> +Exists in every human nature<br> +A goal,<br> +<br> +Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,<br> +Too fair<br> +For credibility's temerity<br> +To dare.<br> +<br> +Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,<br> +To reach<br> +Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment<br> +To touch,<br> +<br> +Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;<br> +How high<br> +Unto the saints' slow diligence<br> +The sky!<br> +<br> +Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,<br> +But then,<br> +Eternity enables the endeavoring<br> +Again.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Before_I_got_my_eye_put_out"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +SIGHT.<br> +<br> +Before I got my eye put out,<br> +I liked as well to see<br> +As other creatures that have eyes,<br> +And know no other way.<br> +<br> +But were it told to me, to-day,<br> +That I might have the sky<br> +For mine, I tell you that my heart<br> +Would split, for size of me.<br> +<br> +The meadows mine, the mountains mine, —<br> +All forests, stintless stars,<br> +As much of noon as I could take<br> +Between my finite eyes.<br> +<br> +The motions of the dipping birds,<br> +The lightning's jointed road,<br> +For mine to look at when I liked, —<br> +The news would strike me dead!<br> +<br> +So safer, guess, with just my soul<br> +Upon the window-pane<br> +Where other creatures put their eyes,<br> +Incautious of the sun.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Talk_with_prudence_to_a_beggar"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +Talk with prudence to a beggar<br> +Of 'Potosi' and the mines!<br> +Reverently to the hungry<br> +Of your viands and your wines!<br> +<br> +Cautious, hint to any captive<br> +You have passed enfranchised feet!<br> +Anecdotes of air in dungeons<br> +Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="He_preached_upon_breadth_till_it_argued_him_narrow"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +THE PREACHER.<br> +<br> +He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, —<br> +The broad are too broad to define;<br> +And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, —<br> +The truth never flaunted a sign.<br> +<br> +Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence<br> +As gold the pyrites would shun.<br> +What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus<br> +To meet so enabled a man!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Good_night_which_put_the_candle_out"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +Good night! which put the candle out?<br> +A jealous zephyr, not a doubt.<br> + Ah! friend, you little knew<br> +How long at that celestial wick<br> +The angels labored diligent;<br> + Extinguished, now, for you!<br> +<br> +It might have been the lighthouse spark<br> +Some sailor, rowing in the dark,<br> + Had importuned to see!<br> +It might have been the waning lamp<br> +That lit the drummer from the camp<br> + To purer reveille!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="When_I_hoped_I_feared"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +When I hoped I feared,<br> +Since I hoped I dared;<br> +Everywhere alone<br> +As a church remain;<br> +Spectre cannot harm,<br> +Serpent cannot charm;<br> +He deposes doom,<br> +Who hath suffered him.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_deed_knocks_first_at_thought"></a> +<br> +XLI.<br> +<br> +DEED.<br> +<br> +A deed knocks first at thought,<br> +And then it knocks at will.<br> +That is the manufacturing spot,<br> +And will at home and well.<br> +<br> +It then goes out an act,<br> +Or is entombed so still<br> +That only to the ear of God<br> +Its doom is audible.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Mine_enemy_is_growing_old"></a> +<br> +XLII.<br> +<br> +TIME'S LESSON.<br> +<br> +Mine enemy is growing old, —<br> +I have at last revenge.<br> +The palate of the hate departs;<br> +If any would avenge, —<br> +<br> +Let him be quick, the viand flits,<br> +It is a faded meat.<br> +Anger as soon as fed is dead;<br> +'T is starving makes it fat.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Remorse_is_memory_awake"></a> +<br> +XLIII.<br> +<br> +REMORSE.<br> +<br> +Remorse is memory awake,<br> +Her companies astir, —<br> +A presence of departed acts<br> +At window and at door.<br> +<br> +It's past set down before the soul,<br> +And lighted with a match,<br> +Perusal to facilitate<br> +Of its condensed despatch.<br> +<br> +Remorse is cureless, — the disease<br> +Not even God can heal;<br> +For 't is his institution, —<br> +The complement of hell.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_body_grows_outside"></a> +<br> +XLIV.<br> +<br> +THE SHELTER.<br> +<br> +The body grows outside, —<br> +The more convenient way, —<br> +That if the spirit like to hide,<br> +Its temple stands alway<br> +<br> +Ajar, secure, inviting;<br> +It never did betray<br> +The soul that asked its shelter<br> +In timid honesty.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Undue_significance_a_starving_man_attaches"></a> +<br> +XLV.<br> +<br> +Undue significance a starving man attaches<br> +To food<br> +Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,<br> +And therefore good.<br> +<br> +Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us<br> +That spices fly<br> +In the receipt. It was the distance<br> +Was savory.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Heart_not_so_heavy_as_mine"></a> +<br> +XLVI.<br> +<br> +Heart not so heavy as mine,<br> +Wending late home,<br> +As it passed my window<br> +Whistled itself a tune, —<br> +<br> +A careless snatch, a ballad,<br> +A ditty of the street;<br> +Yet to my irritated ear<br> +An anodyne so sweet,<br> +<br> +It was as if a bobolink,<br> +Sauntering this way,<br> +Carolled and mused and carolled,<br> +Then bubbled slow away.<br> +<br> +It was as if a chirping brook<br> +Upon a toilsome way<br> +Set bleeding feet to minuets<br> +Without the knowing why.<br> +<br> +To-morrow, night will come again,<br> +Weary, perhaps, and sore.<br> +Ah, bugle, by my window,<br> +I pray you stroll once more!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_many_times_thought_peace_had_come"></a> +<br> +XLVII.<br> +<br> +I many times thought peace had come,<br> +When peace was far away;<br> +As wrecked men deem they sight the land<br> +At centre of the sea,<br> +<br> +And struggle slacker, but to prove,<br> +As hopelessly as I,<br> +How many the fictitious shores<br> +Before the harbor lie.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Unto_my_books_so_good_to_turn"></a> +<br> +XLVIII.<br> +<br> +Unto my books so good to turn<br> +Far ends of tired days;<br> +It half endears the abstinence,<br> +And pain is missed in praise.<br> +<br> +As flavors cheer retarded guests<br> +With banquetings to be,<br> +So spices stimulate the time<br> +Till my small library.<br> +<br> +It may be wilderness without,<br> +Far feet of failing men,<br> +But holiday excludes the night,<br> +And it is bells within.<br> +<br> +I thank these kinsmen of the shelf;<br> +Their countenances bland<br> +Enamour in prospective,<br> +And satisfy, obtained.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="This_merit_hath_the_worst"></a> +<br> +XLIX.<br> +<br> +This merit hath the worst, —<br> +It cannot be again.<br> +When Fate hath taunted last<br> +And thrown her furthest stone,<br> +<br> +The maimed may pause and breathe,<br> +And glance securely round.<br> +The deer invites no longer<br> +Than it eludes the hound.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_had_been_hungry_all_the_years"></a> +<br> +L.<br> +<br> +HUNGER.<br> +<br> +I had been hungry all the years;<br> +My noon had come, to dine;<br> +I, trembling, drew the table near,<br> +And touched the curious wine.<br> +<br> +'T was this on tables I had seen,<br> +When turning, hungry, lone,<br> +I looked in windows, for the wealth<br> +I could not hope to own.<br> +<br> +I did not know the ample bread,<br> +'T was so unlike the crumb<br> +The birds and I had often shared<br> +In Nature's dining-room.<br> +<br> +The plenty hurt me, 't was so new, —<br> +Myself felt ill and odd,<br> +As berry of a mountain bush<br> +Transplanted to the road.<br> +<br> +Nor was I hungry; so I found<br> +That hunger was a way<br> +Of persons outside windows,<br> +The entering takes away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_gained_it_so"></a> +<br> +LI.<br> +<br> +I gained it so,<br> + By climbing slow,<br> +By catching at the twigs that grow<br> +Between the bliss and me.<br> + It hung so high,<br> + As well the sky<br> + Attempt by strategy.<br> +<br> +<br> +I said I gained it, —<br> + This was all.<br> +Look, how I clutch it,<br> + Lest it fall,<br> +And I a pauper go;<br> +Unfitted by an instant's grace<br> +For the contented beggar's face<br> +I wore an hour ago.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_learn_the_transport_by_the_pain"></a> +<br> +LII.<br> +<br> +To learn the transport by the pain,<br> +As blind men learn the sun;<br> +To die of thirst, suspecting<br> +That brooks in meadows run;<br> +<br> +To stay the homesick, homesick feet<br> +Upon a foreign shore<br> +Haunted by native lands, the while,<br> +And blue, beloved air —<br> +<br> +This is the sovereign anguish,<br> +This, the signal woe!<br> +These are the patient laureates<br> +Whose voices, trained below,<br> +<br> +Ascend in ceaseless carol,<br> +Inaudible, indeed,<br> +To us, the duller scholars<br> +Of the mysterious bard!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_years_had_been_from_home"></a> +<br> +LIII.<br> +<br> +RETURNING.<br> +<br> +I years had been from home,<br> +And now, before the door,<br> +I dared not open, lest a face<br> +I never saw before<br> +<br> +Stare vacant into mine<br> +And ask my business there.<br> +My business, — just a life I left,<br> +Was such still dwelling there?<br> +<br> +I fumbled at my nerve,<br> +I scanned the windows near;<br> +The silence like an ocean rolled,<br> +And broke against my ear.<br> +<br> +I laughed a wooden laugh<br> +That I could fear a door,<br> +Who danger and the dead had faced,<br> +But never quaked before.<br> +<br> +I fitted to the latch<br> +My hand, with trembling care,<br> +Lest back the awful door should spring,<br> +And leave me standing there.<br> +<br> +I moved my fingers off<br> +As cautiously as glass,<br> +And held my ears, and like a thief<br> +Fled gasping from the house.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Prayer_is_the_little_implement"></a> +<br> +LIV.<br> +<br> +PRAYER.<br> +<br> +Prayer is the little implement<br> +Through which men reach<br> +Where presence is denied them.<br> +They fling their speech<br> +<br> +By means of it in God's ear;<br> +If then He hear,<br> +This sums the apparatus<br> +Comprised in prayer.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_know_that_he_exists"></a> +<br> +LV.<br> +<br> +I know that he exists<br> +Somewhere, in silence.<br> +He has hid his rare life<br> +From our gross eyes.<br> +<br> +'T is an instant's play,<br> +'T is a fond ambush,<br> +Just to make bliss<br> +Earn her own surprise!<br> +<br> +But should the play<br> +Prove piercing earnest,<br> +Should the glee glaze<br> +In death's stiff stare,<br> +<br> +Would not the fun<br> +Look too expensive?<br> +Would not the jest<br> +Have crawled too far?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Musicians_wrestle_everywhere:"></a> +<br> +LVI.<br> +<br> +MELODIES UNHEARD.<br> +<br> +Musicians wrestle everywhere:<br> +All day, among the crowded air,<br> + I hear the silver strife;<br> +And — waking long before the dawn —<br> +Such transport breaks upon the town<br> + I think it that "new life!"<br> +<br> +It is not bird, it has no nest;<br> +Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed,<br> + Nor tambourine, nor man;<br> +It is not hymn from pulpit read, —<br> +The morning stars the treble led<br> + On time's first afternoon!<br> +<br> +Some say it is the spheres at play!<br> +Some say that bright majority<br> + Of vanished dames and men!<br> +Some think it service in the place<br> +Where we, with late, celestial face,<br> + Please God, shall ascertain!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Just_lost_when_I_was_saved"></a> +<br> +LVII.<br> +<br> +CALLED BACK.<br> +<br> +Just lost when I was saved!<br> +Just felt the world go by!<br> +Just girt me for the onset with eternity,<br> +When breath blew back,<br> +And on the other side<br> +I heard recede the disappointed tide!<br> +<br> +Therefore, as one returned, I feel,<br> +Odd secrets of the line to tell!<br> +Some sailor, skirting foreign shores,<br> +Some pale reporter from the awful doors<br> +Before the seal!<br> +<br> +Next time, to stay!<br> +Next time, the things to see<br> +By ear unheard,<br> +Unscrutinized by eye.<br> +<br> +Next time, to tarry,<br> +While the ages steal, —<br> +Slow tramp the centuries,<br> +And the cycles wheel.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +II. LOVE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Of_all_the_souls_that_stand_create"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +CHOICE.<br> +<br> +Of all the souls that stand create<br> +I have elected one.<br> +When sense from spirit files away,<br> +And subterfuge is done;<br> +<br> +When that which is and that which was<br> +Apart, intrinsic, stand,<br> +And this brief tragedy of flesh<br> +Is shifted like a sand;<br> +<br> +When figures show their royal front<br> +And mists are carved away, —<br> +Behold the atom I preferred<br> +To all the lists of clay!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_have_no_life_but_this"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +I have no life but this,<br> +To lead it here;<br> +Nor any death, but lest<br> +Dispelled from there;<br> +<br> +Nor tie to earths to come,<br> +Nor action new,<br> +Except through this extent,<br> +The realm of you.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Your_riches_taught_me_poverty"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +Your riches taught me poverty.<br> +Myself a millionnaire<br> +In little wealths, — as girls could boast, —<br> +Till broad as Buenos Ayre,<br> +<br> +You drifted your dominions<br> +A different Peru;<br> +And I esteemed all poverty,<br> +For life's estate with you.<br> +<br> +Of mines I little know, myself,<br> +But just the names of gems, —<br> +The colors of the commonest;<br> +And scarce of diadems<br> +<br> +So much that, did I meet the queen,<br> +Her glory I should know:<br> +But this must be a different wealth,<br> +To miss it beggars so.<br> +<br> +I 'm sure 't is India all day<br> +To those who look on you<br> +Without a stint, without a blame, —<br> +Might I but be the Jew!<br> +<br> +I 'm sure it is Golconda,<br> +Beyond my power to deem, —<br> +To have a smile for mine each day,<br> +How better than a gem!<br> +<br> +At least, it solaces to know<br> +That there exists a gold,<br> +Although I prove it just in time<br> +Its distance to behold!<br> +<br> +It 's far, far treasure to surmise,<br> +And estimate the pearl<br> +That slipped my simple fingers through<br> +While just a girl at school!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_gave_myself_to_him"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +THE CONTRACT.<br> +<br> +I gave myself to him,<br> +And took himself for pay.<br> +The solemn contract of a life<br> +Was ratified this way.<br> +<br> +The wealth might disappoint,<br> +Myself a poorer prove<br> +Than this great purchaser suspect,<br> +The daily own of Love<br> +<br> +Depreciate the vision;<br> +But, till the merchant buy,<br> +Still fable, in the isles of spice,<br> +The subtle cargoes lie.<br> +<br> +At least, 't is mutual risk, —<br> +Some found it mutual gain;<br> +Sweet debt of Life, — each night to owe,<br> +Insolvent, every noon.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Going_to_him_Happy_letter_Tell_him"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +THE LETTER.<br> +<br> +"Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him —<br> +Tell him the page I didn't write;<br> +Tell him I only said the syntax,<br> +And left the verb and the pronoun out.<br> +Tell him just how the fingers hurried,<br> +Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow;<br> +And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,<br> +So you could see what moved them so.<br> +<br> +"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,<br> +You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled;<br> +You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,<br> +As if it held but the might of a child;<br> +You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.<br> +Tell him — No, you may quibble there,<br> +For it would split his heart to know it,<br> +And then you and I were silenter.<br> +<br> +"Tell him night finished before we finished,<br> +And the old clock kept neighing 'day!'<br> +And you got sleepy and begged to be ended —<br> +What could it hinder so, to say?<br> +Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious,<br> +But if he ask where you are hid<br> +Until to-morrow, — happy letter!<br> +Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!"<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_way_I_read_a_letter_s_this:"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +The way I read a letter 's this:<br> +'T is first I lock the door,<br> +And push it with my fingers next,<br> +For transport it be sure.<br> +<br> +And then I go the furthest off<br> +To counteract a knock;<br> +Then draw my little letter forth<br> +And softly pick its lock.<br> +<br> +Then, glancing narrow at the wall,<br> +And narrow at the floor,<br> +For firm conviction of a mouse<br> +Not exorcised before,<br> +<br> +Peruse how infinite I am<br> +To — no one that you know!<br> +And sigh for lack of heaven, — but not<br> +The heaven the creeds bestow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Wild_nights_Wild_nights"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +Wild nights! Wild nights!<br> +Were I with thee,<br> +Wild nights should be<br> +Our luxury!<br> +<br> +Futile the winds<br> +To a heart in port, —<br> +Done with the compass,<br> +Done with the chart.<br> +<br> +Rowing in Eden!<br> +Ah! the sea!<br> +Might I but moor<br> +To-night in thee!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_night_was_wide_and_furnished_scant"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +AT HOME.<br> +<br> +The night was wide, and furnished scant<br> +With but a single star,<br> +That often as a cloud it met<br> +Blew out itself for fear.<br> +<br> +The wind pursued the little bush,<br> +And drove away the leaves<br> +November left; then clambered up<br> +And fretted in the eaves.<br> +<br> +No squirrel went abroad;<br> +A dog's belated feet<br> +Like intermittent plush were heard<br> +Adown the empty street.<br> +<br> +To feel if blinds be fast,<br> +And closer to the fire<br> +Her little rocking-chair to draw,<br> +And shiver for the poor,<br> +<br> +The housewife's gentle task.<br> +"How pleasanter," said she<br> +Unto the sofa opposite,<br> +"The sleet than May — no thee!"<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Did_the_harebell_loose_her_girdle"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +POSSESSION.<br> +<br> +Did the harebell loose her girdle<br> +To the lover bee,<br> +Would the bee the harebell hallow<br> +Much as formerly?<br> +<br> +Did the paradise, persuaded,<br> +Yield her moat of pearl,<br> +Would the Eden be an Eden,<br> +Or the earl an earl?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_charm_invests_a_face"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +A charm invests a face<br> +Imperfectly beheld, —<br> +The lady dare not lift her veil<br> +For fear it be dispelled.<br> +<br> +But peers beyond her mesh,<br> +And wishes, and denies, —<br> +Lest interview annul a want<br> +That image satisfies.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_rose_did_caper_on_her_cheek"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +THE LOVERS.<br> +<br> +The rose did caper on her cheek,<br> +Her bodice rose and fell,<br> +Her pretty speech, like drunken men,<br> +Did stagger pitiful.<br> +<br> +Her fingers fumbled at her work, —<br> +Her needle would not go;<br> +What ailed so smart a little maid<br> +It puzzled me to know,<br> +<br> +Till opposite I spied a cheek<br> +That bore another rose;<br> +Just opposite, another speech<br> +That like the drunkard goes;<br> +<br> +A vest that, like the bodice, danced<br> +To the immortal tune, —<br> +Till those two troubled little clocks<br> +Ticked softly into one.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="In_lands_I_never_saw_they_say"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +In lands I never saw, they say,<br> +Immortal Alps look down,<br> +Whose bonnets touch the firmament,<br> +Whose sandals touch the town, —<br> +<br> +Meek at whose everlasting feet<br> +A myriad daisies play.<br> +Which, sir, are you, and which am I,<br> +Upon an August day?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_moon_is_distant_from_the_sea"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +The moon is distant from the sea,<br> +And yet with amber hands<br> +She leads him, docile as a boy,<br> +Along appointed sands.<br> +<br> +He never misses a degree;<br> +Obedient to her eye,<br> +He comes just so far toward the town,<br> +Just so far goes away.<br> +<br> +Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand,<br> +And mine the distant sea, —<br> +Obedient to the least command<br> +Thine eyes impose on me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="He_put_the_belt_around_my_life"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +He put the belt around my life, —<br> +I heard the buckle snap,<br> +And turned away, imperial,<br> +My lifetime folding up<br> +Deliberate, as a duke would do<br> +A kingdom's title-deed, —<br> +Henceforth a dedicated sort,<br> +A member of the cloud.<br> +<br> +Yet not too far to come at call,<br> +And do the little toils<br> +That make the circuit of the rest,<br> +And deal occasional smiles<br> +To lives that stoop to notice mine<br> +And kindly ask it in, —<br> +Whose invitation, knew you not<br> +For whom I must decline?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_held_a_jewel_in_my_fingers"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +THE LOST JEWEL.<br> +<br> +I held a jewel in my fingers<br> +And went to sleep.<br> +The day was warm, and winds were prosy;<br> +I said: "'T will keep."<br> +<br> +I woke and chid my honest fingers, —<br> +The gem was gone;<br> +And now an amethyst remembrance<br> +Is all I own.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="What_if_I_say_I_shall_not_wait"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +What if I say I shall not wait?<br> +What if I burst the fleshly gate<br> +And pass, escaped, to thee?<br> +What if I file this mortal off,<br> +See where it hurt me, — that 's enough, —<br> +And wade in liberty?<br> +<br> +They cannot take us any more, —<br> +Dungeons may call, and guns implore;<br> +Unmeaning now, to me,<br> +As laughter was an hour ago,<br> +Or laces, or a travelling show,<br> +Or who died yesterday!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +III. NATURE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Nature_the_gentlest_mother"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +MOTHER NATURE.<br> +<br> +Nature, the gentlest mother,<br> +Impatient of no child,<br> +The feeblest or the waywardest, —<br> +Her admonition mild<br> +<br> +In forest and the hill<br> +By traveller is heard,<br> +Restraining rampant squirrel<br> +Or too impetuous bird.<br> +<br> +How fair her conversation,<br> +A summer afternoon, —<br> +Her household, her assembly;<br> +And when the sun goes down<br> +<br> +Her voice among the aisles<br> +Incites the timid prayer<br> +Of the minutest cricket,<br> +The most unworthy flower.<br> +<br> +When all the children sleep<br> +She turns as long away<br> +As will suffice to light her lamps;<br> +Then, bending from the sky<br> +<br> +With infinite affection<br> +And infiniter care,<br> +Her golden finger on her lip,<br> +Wills silence everywhere.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Will_there_really_be_a_morning"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +OUT OF THE MORNING.<br> +<br> +Will there really be a morning?<br> +Is there such a thing as day?<br> +Could I see it from the mountains<br> +If I were as tall as they?<br> +<br> +Has it feet like water-lilies?<br> +Has it feathers like a bird?<br> +Is it brought from famous countries<br> +Of which I have never heard?<br> +<br> +Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!<br> +Oh, some wise man from the skies!<br> +Please to tell a little pilgrim<br> +Where the place called morning lies!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="At_half-past_three_a_single_bird"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +At half-past three a single bird<br> +Unto a silent sky<br> +Propounded but a single term<br> +Of cautious melody.<br> +<br> +At half-past four, experiment<br> +Had subjugated test,<br> +And lo! her silver principle<br> +Supplanted all the rest.<br> +<br> +At half-past seven, element<br> +Nor implement was seen,<br> +And place was where the presence was,<br> +Circumference between.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_day_came_slow_till_five_oclock"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +DAY'S PARLOR.<br> +<br> +The day came slow, till five o'clock,<br> +Then sprang before the hills<br> +Like hindered rubies, or the light<br> +A sudden musket spills.<br> +<br> +The purple could not keep the east,<br> +The sunrise shook from fold,<br> +Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,<br> +The lady just unrolled.<br> +<br> +The happy winds their timbrels took;<br> +The birds, in docile rows,<br> +Arranged themselves around their prince<br> +(The wind is prince of those).<br> +<br> +The orchard sparkled like a Jew, —<br> +How mighty 't was, to stay<br> +A guest in this stupendous place,<br> +The parlor of the day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_sun_just_touched_the_morning"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +THE SUN'S WOOING.<br> +<br> +The sun just touched the morning;<br> +The morning, happy thing,<br> +Supposed that he had come to dwell,<br> +And life would be all spring.<br> +<br> +She felt herself supremer, —<br> +A raised, ethereal thing;<br> +Henceforth for her what holiday!<br> +Meanwhile, her wheeling king<br> +<br> +Trailed slow along the orchards<br> +His haughty, spangled hems,<br> +Leaving a new necessity, —<br> +The want of diadems!<br> +<br> +The morning fluttered, staggered,<br> +Felt feebly for her crown, —<br> +Her unanointed forehead<br> +Henceforth her only one.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_robin_is_the_one"></a> +<br> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +THE ROBIN.<br> +<br> +The robin is the one<br> +That interrupts the morn<br> +With hurried, few, express reports<br> +When March is scarcely on.<br> +<br> +The robin is the one<br> +That overflows the noon<br> +With her cherubic quantity,<br> +An April but begun.<br> +<br> +The robin is the one<br> +That speechless from her nest<br> +Submits that home and certainty<br> +And sanctity are best.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="From_cocoon_forth_a_butterfly"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +THE BUTTERFLY'S DAY.<br> +<br> +From cocoon forth a butterfly<br> +As lady from her door<br> +Emerged — a summer afternoon —<br> +Repairing everywhere,<br> +<br> +Without design, that I could trace,<br> +Except to stray abroad<br> +On miscellaneous enterprise<br> +The clovers understood.<br> +<br> +Her pretty parasol was seen<br> +Contracting in a field<br> +Where men made hay, then struggling hard<br> +With an opposing cloud,<br> +<br> +Where parties, phantom as herself,<br> +To Nowhere seemed to go<br> +In purposeless circumference,<br> +As 't were a tropic show.<br> +<br> +And notwithstanding bee that worked,<br> +And flower that zealous blew,<br> +This audience of idleness<br> +Disdained them, from the sky,<br> +<br> +Till sundown crept, a steady tide,<br> +And men that made the hay,<br> +And afternoon, and butterfly,<br> +Extinguished in its sea.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Before_you_thought_of_spring"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +THE BLUEBIRD.<br> +<br> +Before you thought of spring,<br> +Except as a surmise,<br> +You see, God bless his suddenness,<br> +A fellow in the skies<br> +Of independent hues,<br> +A little weather-worn,<br> +Inspiriting habiliments<br> +Of indigo and brown.<br> +<br> +With specimens of song,<br> +As if for you to choose,<br> +Discretion in the interval,<br> +With gay delays he goes<br> +To some superior tree<br> +Without a single leaf,<br> +And shouts for joy to nobody<br> +But his seraphic self!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="An_altered_look_about_the_hills"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +APRIL.<br> +<br> +An altered look about the hills;<br> +A Tyrian light the village fills;<br> +A wider sunrise in the dawn;<br> +A deeper twilight on the lawn;<br> +A print of a vermilion foot;<br> +A purple finger on the slope;<br> +A flippant fly upon the pane;<br> +A spider at his trade again;<br> +An added strut in chanticleer;<br> +A flower expected everywhere;<br> +An axe shrill singing in the woods;<br> +Fern-odors on untravelled roads, —<br> +All this, and more I cannot tell,<br> +A furtive look you know as well,<br> +And Nicodemus' mystery<br> +Receives its annual reply.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Whose_are_the_little_beds_I_asked"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +THE SLEEPING FLOWERS.<br> +<br> +"Whose are the little beds," I asked,<br> +"Which in the valleys lie?"<br> +Some shook their heads, and others smiled,<br> +And no one made reply.<br> +<br> +"Perhaps they did not hear," I said;<br> +"I will inquire again.<br> +Whose are the beds, the tiny beds<br> +So thick upon the plain?"<br> +<br> +"'T is daisy in the shortest;<br> +A little farther on,<br> +Nearest the door to wake the first,<br> +Little leontodon.<br> +<br> +"'T is iris, sir, and aster,<br> +Anemone and bell,<br> +Batschia in the blanket red,<br> +And chubby daffodil."<br> +<br> +Meanwhile at many cradles<br> +Her busy foot she plied,<br> +Humming the quaintest lullaby<br> +That ever rocked a child.<br> +<br> +"Hush! Epigea wakens! —<br> +The crocus stirs her lids,<br> +Rhodora's cheek is crimson, —<br> +She's dreaming of the woods."<br> +<br> +Then, turning from them, reverent,<br> +"Their bed-time 't is," she said;<br> +"The bumble-bees will wake them<br> +When April woods are red."<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Pigmy_seraphs_gone_astray"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +MY ROSE.<br> +<br> +Pigmy seraphs gone astray,<br> +Velvet people from Vevay,<br> +Belles from some lost summer day,<br> +Bees' exclusive coterie.<br> +Paris could not lay the fold<br> +Belted down with emerald;<br> +Venice could not show a cheek<br> +Of a tint so lustrous meek.<br> +Never such an ambuscade<br> +As of brier and leaf displayed<br> +For my little damask maid.<br> +I had rather wear her grace<br> +Than an earl's distinguished face;<br> +I had rather dwell like her<br> +Than be Duke of Exeter<br> +Royalty enough for me<br> +To subdue the bumble-bee!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_hear_an_oriole_sing"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +THE ORIOLE'S SECRET.<br> +<br> +To hear an oriole sing<br> +May be a common thing,<br> +Or only a divine.<br> +<br> +It is not of the bird<br> +Who sings the same, unheard,<br> +As unto crowd.<br> +<br> +The fashion of the ear<br> +Attireth that it hear<br> +In dun or fair.<br> +<br> +So whether it be rune,<br> +Or whether it be none,<br> +Is of within;<br> +<br> +The "tune is in the tree,"<br> +The sceptic showeth me;<br> +"No, sir! In thee!"<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="One_of_the_ones_that_Midas_touched"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +THE ORIOLE.<br> +<br> +One of the ones that Midas touched,<br> +Who failed to touch us all,<br> +Was that confiding prodigal,<br> +The blissful oriole.<br> +<br> +So drunk, he disavows it<br> +With badinage divine;<br> +So dazzling, we mistake him<br> +For an alighting mine.<br> +<br> +A pleader, a dissembler,<br> +An epicure, a thief, —<br> +Betimes an oratorio,<br> +An ecstasy in chief;<br> +<br> +The Jesuit of orchards,<br> +He cheats as he enchants<br> +Of an entire attar<br> +For his decamping wants.<br> +<br> +The splendor of a Burmah,<br> +The meteor of birds,<br> +Departing like a pageant<br> +Of ballads and of bards.<br> +<br> +I never thought that Jason sought<br> +For any golden fleece;<br> +But then I am a rural man,<br> +With thoughts that make for peace.<br> +<br> +But if there were a Jason,<br> +Tradition suffer me<br> +Behold his lost emolument<br> +Upon the apple-tree.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_dreaded_that_first_robin_so"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +IN SHADOW.<br> +<br> +I dreaded that first robin so,<br> +But he is mastered now,<br> +And I 'm accustomed to him grown, —<br> +He hurts a little, though.<br> +<br> +I thought if I could only live<br> +Till that first shout got by,<br> +Not all pianos in the woods<br> +Had power to mangle me.<br> +<br> +I dared not meet the daffodils,<br> +For fear their yellow gown<br> +Would pierce me with a fashion<br> +So foreign to my own.<br> +<br> +I wished the grass would hurry,<br> +So when 't was time to see,<br> +He 'd be too tall, the tallest one<br> +Could stretch to look at me.<br> +<br> +I could not bear the bees should come,<br> +I wished they 'd stay away<br> +In those dim countries where they go:<br> +What word had they for me?<br> +<br> +They 're here, though; not a creature failed,<br> +No blossom stayed away<br> +In gentle deference to me,<br> +The Queen of Calvary.<br> +<br> +Each one salutes me as he goes,<br> +And I my childish plumes<br> +Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment<br> +Of their unthinking drums.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_route_of_evanescence"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +THE HUMMING-BIRD.<br> +<br> +A route of evanescence<br> +With a revolving wheel;<br> +A resonance of emerald,<br> +A rush of cochineal;<br> +And every blossom on the bush<br> +Adjusts its tumbled head, —<br> +The mail from Tunis, probably,<br> +An easy morning's ride.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_skies_cant_keep_their_secret"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +SECRETS.<br> +<br> +The skies can't keep their secret!<br> +They tell it to the hills —<br> +The hills just tell the orchards —<br> +And they the daffodils!<br> +<br> +A bird, by chance, that goes that way<br> +Soft overheard the whole.<br> +If I should bribe the little bird,<br> +Who knows but she would tell?<br> +<br> +I think I won't, however,<br> +It's finer not to know;<br> +If summer were an axiom,<br> +What sorcery had snow?<br> +<br> +So keep your secret, Father!<br> +I would not, if I could,<br> +Know what the sapphire fellows do,<br> +In your new-fashioned world!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Who_robbed_the_woods"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +Who robbed the woods,<br> +The trusting woods?<br> +The unsuspecting trees<br> +Brought out their burrs and mosses<br> +His fantasy to please.<br> +He scanned their trinkets, curious,<br> +He grasped, he bore away.<br> +What will the solemn hemlock,<br> +What will the fir-tree say?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Two_butterflies_went_out_at_noon"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +TWO VOYAGERS.<br> +<br> +Two butterflies went out at noon<br> +And waltzed above a stream,<br> +Then stepped straight through the firmament<br> +And rested on a beam;<br> +<br> +And then together bore away<br> +Upon a shining sea, —<br> +Though never yet, in any port,<br> +Their coming mentioned be.<br> +<br> +If spoken by the distant bird,<br> +If met in ether sea<br> +By frigate or by merchantman,<br> +Report was not to me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_started_early_took_my_dog"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +BY THE SEA.<br> +<br> +I started early, took my dog,<br> +And visited the sea;<br> +The mermaids in the basement<br> +Came out to look at me,<br> +<br> +And frigates in the upper floor<br> +Extended hempen hands,<br> +Presuming me to be a mouse<br> +Aground, upon the sands.<br> +<br> +But no man moved me till the tide<br> +Went past my simple shoe,<br> +And past my apron and my belt,<br> +And past my bodice too,<br> +<br> +And made as he would eat me up<br> +As wholly as a dew<br> +Upon a dandelion's sleeve —<br> +And then I started too.<br> +<br> +And he — he followed close behind;<br> +I felt his silver heel<br> +Upon my ankle, — then my shoes<br> +Would overflow with pearl.<br> +<br> +Until we met the solid town,<br> +No man he seemed to know;<br> +And bowing with a mighty look<br> +At me, the sea withdrew.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Arcturus_is_his_other_name"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +OLD-FASHIONED.<br> +<br> +Arcturus is his other name, —<br> +I'd rather call him star!<br> +It's so unkind of science<br> +To go and interfere!<br> +<br> +I pull a flower from the woods, —<br> +A monster with a glass<br> +Computes the stamens in a breath,<br> +And has her in a class.<br> +<br> +Whereas I took the butterfly<br> +Aforetime in my hat,<br> +He sits erect in cabinets,<br> +The clover-bells forgot.<br> +<br> +What once was heaven, is zenith now.<br> +Where I proposed to go<br> +When time's brief masquerade was done,<br> +Is mapped, and charted too!<br> +<br> +What if the poles should frisk about<br> +And stand upon their heads!<br> +I hope I 'm ready for the worst,<br> +Whatever prank betides!<br> +<br> +Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed!<br> +I hope the children there<br> +Won't be new-fashioned when I come,<br> +And laugh at me, and stare!<br> +<br> +I hope the father in the skies<br> +Will lift his little girl, —<br> +Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, —<br> +Over the stile of pearl!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="An_awful_tempest_mashed_the_air"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +A TEMPEST.<br> +<br> +An awful tempest mashed the air,<br> +The clouds were gaunt and few;<br> +A black, as of a spectre's cloak,<br> +Hid heaven and earth from view.<br> +<br> +The creatures chuckled on the roofs<br> +And whistled in the air,<br> +And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth.<br> +And swung their frenzied hair.<br> +<br> +The morning lit, the birds arose;<br> +The monster's faded eyes<br> +Turned slowly to his native coast,<br> +And peace was Paradise!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="An_everywhere_of_silver"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +THE SEA.<br> +<br> +An everywhere of silver,<br> +With ropes of sand<br> +To keep it from effacing<br> +The track called land.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_bird_came_down_the_walk"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +IN THE GARDEN.<br> +<br> +A bird came down the walk:<br> +He did not know I saw;<br> +He bit an angle-worm in halves<br> +And ate the fellow, raw.<br> +<br> +And then he drank a dew<br> +From a convenient grass,<br> +And then hopped sidewise to the wall<br> +To let a beetle pass.<br> +<br> +He glanced with rapid eyes<br> +That hurried all abroad, —<br> +They looked like frightened beads, I thought;<br> +He stirred his velvet head<br> +<br> +Like one in danger; cautious,<br> +I offered him a crumb,<br> +And he unrolled his feathers<br> +And rowed him softer home<br> +<br> +Than oars divide the ocean,<br> +Too silver for a seam,<br> +Or butterflies, off banks of noon,<br> +Leap, splashless, as they swim.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_narrow_fellow_in_the_grass"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +THE SNAKE.<br> +<br> +A narrow fellow in the grass<br> +Occasionally rides;<br> +You may have met him, — did you not,<br> +His notice sudden is.<br> +<br> +The grass divides as with a comb,<br> +A spotted shaft is seen;<br> +And then it closes at your feet<br> +And opens further on.<br> +<br> +He likes a boggy acre,<br> +A floor too cool for corn.<br> +Yet when a child, and barefoot,<br> +I more than once, at morn,<br> +<br> +Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash<br> +Unbraiding in the sun, —<br> +When, stooping to secure it,<br> +It wrinkled, and was gone.<br> +<br> +Several of nature's people<br> +I know, and they know me;<br> +I feel for them a transport<br> +Of cordiality;<br> +<br> +But never met this fellow,<br> +Attended or alone,<br> +Without a tighter breathing,<br> +And zero at the bone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_mushroom_is_the_elf_of_plants"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +THE MUSHROOM.<br> +<br> +The mushroom is the elf of plants,<br> +At evening it is not;<br> +At morning in a truffled hut<br> +It stops upon a spot<br> +<br> +As if it tarried always;<br> +And yet its whole career<br> +Is shorter than a snake's delay,<br> +And fleeter than a tare.<br> +<br> +'T is vegetation's juggler,<br> +The germ of alibi;<br> +Doth like a bubble antedate,<br> +And like a bubble hie.<br> +<br> +I feel as if the grass were pleased<br> +To have it intermit;<br> +The surreptitious scion<br> +Of summer's circumspect.<br> +<br> +Had nature any outcast face,<br> +Could she a son contemn,<br> +Had nature an Iscariot,<br> +That mushroom, — it is him.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_came_a_wind_like_a_bugle"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +THE STORM.<br> +<br> +There came a wind like a bugle;<br> +It quivered through the grass,<br> +And a green chill upon the heat<br> +So ominous did pass<br> +We barred the windows and the doors<br> +As from an emerald ghost;<br> +The doom's electric moccason<br> +That very instant passed.<br> +On a strange mob of panting trees,<br> +And fences fled away,<br> +And rivers where the houses ran<br> +The living looked that day.<br> +The bell within the steeple wild<br> +The flying tidings whirled.<br> +How much can come<br> +And much can go,<br> +And yet abide the world!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_spider_sewed_at_night"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +THE SPIDER.<br> +<br> +A spider sewed at night<br> +Without a light<br> +Upon an arc of white.<br> +If ruff it was of dame<br> +Or shroud of gnome,<br> +Himself, himself inform.<br> +Of immortality<br> +His strategy<br> +Was physiognomy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_know_a_place_where_summer_strives"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +I know a place where summer strives<br> +With such a practised frost,<br> +She each year leads her daisies back,<br> +Recording briefly, "Lost."<br> +<br> +But when the south wind stirs the pools<br> +And struggles in the lanes,<br> +Her heart misgives her for her vow,<br> +And she pours soft refrains<br> +<br> +Into the lap of adamant,<br> +And spices, and the dew,<br> +That stiffens quietly to quartz,<br> +Upon her amber shoe.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_one_that_could_repeat_the_summer_day"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +The one that could repeat the summer day<br> +Were greater than itself, though he<br> +Minutest of mankind might be.<br> +And who could reproduce the sun,<br> +At period of going down —<br> +The lingering and the stain, I mean —<br> +When Orient has been outgrown,<br> +And Occident becomes unknown,<br> +His name remain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +THE WIND'S VISIT.<br> +<br> +The wind tapped like a tired man,<br> +And like a host, "Come in,"<br> +I boldly answered; entered then<br> +My residence within<br> +<br> +A rapid, footless guest,<br> +To offer whom a chair<br> +Were as impossible as hand<br> +A sofa to the air.<br> +<br> +No bone had he to bind him,<br> +His speech was like the push<br> +Of numerous humming-birds at once<br> +From a superior bush.<br> +<br> +His countenance a billow,<br> +His fingers, if he pass,<br> +Let go a music, as of tunes<br> +Blown tremulous in glass.<br> +<br> +He visited, still flitting;<br> +Then, like a timid man,<br> +Again he tapped — 't was flurriedly —<br> +And I became alone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Nature_rarer_uses_yellow"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +Nature rarer uses yellow<br> + Than another hue;<br> +Saves she all of that for sunsets, —<br> + Prodigal of blue,<br> +<br> +Spending scarlet like a woman,<br> + Yellow she affords<br> +Only scantly and selectly,<br> + Like a lover's words.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_leaves_like_women_interchange"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +GOSSIP.<br> +<br> +The leaves, like women, interchange<br> + Sagacious confidence;<br> +Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of<br> + Portentous inference,<br> +<br> +The parties in both cases<br> + Enjoining secrecy, —<br> +Inviolable compact<br> + To notoriety.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="How_happy_is_the_little_stone"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +SIMPLICITY.<br> +<br> +How happy is the little stone<br> +That rambles in the road alone,<br> +And doesn't care about careers,<br> +And exigencies never fears;<br> +Whose coat of elemental brown<br> +A passing universe put on;<br> +And independent as the sun,<br> +Associates or glows alone,<br> +Fulfilling absolute decree<br> +In casual simplicity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_sounded_as_if_the_streets_were_running"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +STORM.<br> +<br> +It sounded as if the streets were running,<br> +And then the streets stood still.<br> +Eclipse was all we could see at the window,<br> +And awe was all we could feel.<br> +<br> +By and by the boldest stole out of his covert,<br> +To see if time was there.<br> +Nature was in her beryl apron,<br> +Mixing fresher air.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_rat_is_the_concisest_tenant"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +THE RAT.<br> +<br> +The rat is the concisest tenant.<br> +He pays no rent, —<br> +Repudiates the obligation,<br> +On schemes intent.<br> +<br> +Balking our wit<br> +To sound or circumvent,<br> +Hate cannot harm<br> +A foe so reticent.<br> +<br> +Neither decree<br> +Prohibits him,<br> +Lawful as<br> +Equilibrium.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Frequently_the_woods_are_pink"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +Frequently the woods are pink,<br> +Frequently are brown;<br> +Frequently the hills undress<br> +Behind my native town.<br> +<br> +Oft a head is crested<br> +I was wont to see,<br> +And as oft a cranny<br> +Where it used to be.<br> +<br> +And the earth, they tell me,<br> +On its axis turned, —<br> +Wonderful rotation<br> +By but twelve performed!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_wind_begun_to_rock_the_grass"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +A THUNDER-STORM.<br> +<br> +The wind begun to rock the grass<br> +With threatening tunes and low, —<br> +He flung a menace at the earth,<br> +A menace at the sky.<br> +<br> +The leaves unhooked themselves from trees<br> +And started all abroad;<br> +The dust did scoop itself like hands<br> +And throw away the road.<br> +<br> +The wagons quickened on the streets,<br> +The thunder hurried slow;<br> +The lightning showed a yellow beak,<br> +And then a livid claw.<br> +<br> +The birds put up the bars to nests,<br> +The cattle fled to barns;<br> +There came one drop of giant rain,<br> +And then, as if the hands<br> +<br> +That held the dams had parted hold,<br> +The waters wrecked the sky,<br> +But overlooked my father's house,<br> +Just quartering a tree.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="South_winds_jostle_them"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +WITH FLOWERS.<br> +<br> +South winds jostle them,<br> +Bumblebees come,<br> +Hover, hesitate,<br> +Drink, and are gone.<br> +<br> +Butterflies pause<br> +On their passage Cashmere;<br> +I, softly plucking,<br> +Present them here!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Where_ships_of_purple_gently_toss"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +SUNSET.<br> +<br> +Where ships of purple gently toss<br> +On seas of daffodil,<br> +Fantastic sailors mingle,<br> +And then — the wharf is still.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_sweeps_with_many-colored_brooms"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +She sweeps with many-colored brooms,<br> +And leaves the shreds behind;<br> +Oh, housewife in the evening west,<br> +Come back, and dust the pond!<br> +<br> +You dropped a purple ravelling in,<br> +You dropped an amber thread;<br> +And now you 've littered all the East<br> +With duds of emerald!<br> +<br> +And still she plies her spotted brooms,<br> +And still the aprons fly,<br> +Till brooms fade softly into stars —<br> +And then I come away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Like_mighty_footlights_burned_the_red"></a> +<br> +XLI.<br> +<br> +Like mighty footlights burned the red<br> +At bases of the trees, —<br> +The far theatricals of day<br> +Exhibiting to these.<br> +<br> +'T was universe that did applaud<br> +While, chiefest of the crowd,<br> +Enabled by his royal dress,<br> +Myself distinguished God.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Bring_me_the_sunset_in_a_cup"></a> +<br> +XLII.<br> +<br> +PROBLEMS.<br> +<br> +Bring me the sunset in a cup,<br> +Reckon the morning's flagons up,<br> + And say how many dew;<br> +Tell me how far the morning leaps,<br> +Tell me what time the weaver sleeps<br> + Who spun the breadths of blue!<br> +<br> +Write me how many notes there be<br> +In the new robin's ecstasy<br> + Among astonished boughs;<br> +How many trips the tortoise makes,<br> +How many cups the bee partakes, —<br> + The debauchee of dews!<br> +<br> +Also, who laid the rainbow's piers,<br> +Also, who leads the docile spheres<br> + By withes of supple blue?<br> +Whose fingers string the stalactite,<br> +Who counts the wampum of the night,<br> + To see that none is due?<br> +<br> +Who built this little Alban house<br> +And shut the windows down so close<br> + My spirit cannot see?<br> +Who 'll let me out some gala day,<br> +With implements to fly away,<br> + Passing pomposity?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Blazing_in_gold_and_quenching_in_purple"></a> +<br> +XLIII.<br> +<br> +THE JUGGLER OF DAY.<br> +<br> +Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,<br> +Leaping like leopards to the sky,<br> +Then at the feet of the old horizon<br> +Laying her spotted face, to die;<br> +<br> +Stooping as low as the otter's window,<br> +Touching the roof and tinting the barn,<br> +Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, —<br> +And the juggler of day is gone!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Farther_in_summer_than_the_birds"></a> +<br> +XLIV.<br> +<br> +MY CRICKET.<br> +<br> +Farther in summer than the birds,<br> +Pathetic from the grass,<br> +A minor nation celebrates<br> +Its unobtrusive mass.<br> +<br> +No ordinance is seen,<br> +So gradual the grace,<br> +A pensive custom it becomes,<br> +Enlarging loneliness.<br> +<br> +Antiquest felt at noon<br> +When August, burning low,<br> +Calls forth this spectral canticle,<br> +Repose to typify.<br> +<br> +Remit as yet no grace,<br> +No furrow on the glow,<br> +Yet a druidic difference<br> +Enhances nature now.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="As_imperceptibly_as_grief"></a> +<br> +XLV.<br> +<br> +As imperceptibly as grief<br> +The summer lapsed away, —<br> +Too imperceptible, at last,<br> +To seem like perfidy.<br> +<br> +A quietness distilled,<br> +As twilight long begun,<br> +Or Nature, spending with herself<br> +Sequestered afternoon.<br> +<br> +The dusk drew earlier in,<br> +The morning foreign shone, —<br> +A courteous, yet harrowing grace,<br> +As guest who would be gone.<br> +<br> +And thus, without a wing,<br> +Or service of a keel,<br> +Our summer made her light escape<br> +Into the beautiful.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_cant_be_summer_that_got_through"></a> +<br> +XLVI.<br> +<br> +It can't be summer, — that got through;<br> +It 's early yet for spring;<br> +There 's that long town of white to cross<br> +Before the blackbirds sing.<br> +<br> +It can't be dying, — it's too rouge, —<br> +The dead shall go in white.<br> +So sunset shuts my question down<br> +With clasps of chrysolite.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_gentian_weaves_her_fringes"></a> +<br> +XLVII.<br> +<br> +SUMMER'S OBSEQUIES.<br> +<br> +The gentian weaves her fringes,<br> +The maple's loom is red.<br> +My departing blossoms<br> +Obviate parade.<br> +<br> +A brief, but patient illness,<br> +An hour to prepare;<br> +And one, below this morning,<br> +Is where the angels are.<br> +<br> +It was a short procession, —<br> +The bobolink was there,<br> +An aged bee addressed us,<br> +And then we knelt in prayer.<br> +<br> +We trust that she was willing, —<br> +We ask that we may be.<br> +Summer, sister, seraph,<br> +Let us go with thee!<br> +<br> +In the name of the bee<br> +And of the butterfly<br> +And of the breeze, amen!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="God_made_a_little_gentian"></a> +<br> +XLVIII.<br> +<br> +FRINGED GENTIAN.<br> +<br> +God made a little gentian;<br> +It tried to be a rose<br> +And failed, and all the summer laughed.<br> +But just before the snows<br> +There came a purple creature<br> +That ravished all the hill;<br> +And summer hid her forehead,<br> +And mockery was still.<br> +The frosts were her condition;<br> +The Tyrian would not come<br> +Until the North evoked it.<br> +"Creator! shall I bloom?"<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Besides_the_autumn_poets_sing"></a> +<br> +XLIX.<br> +<br> +NOVEMBER.<br> +<br> +Besides the autumn poets sing,<br> +A few prosaic days<br> +A little this side of the snow<br> +And that side of the haze.<br> +<br> +A few incisive mornings,<br> +A few ascetic eyes, —<br> +Gone Mr. Bryant's golden-rod,<br> +And Mr. Thomson's sheaves.<br> +<br> +Still is the bustle in the brook,<br> +Sealed are the spicy valves;<br> +Mesmeric fingers softly touch<br> +The eyes of many elves.<br> +<br> +Perhaps a squirrel may remain,<br> +My sentiments to share.<br> +Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,<br> +Thy windy will to bear!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_sifts_from_leaden_sieves"></a> +<br> +L.<br> +<br> +THE SNOW.<br> +<br> +It sifts from leaden sieves,<br> +It powders all the wood,<br> +It fills with alabaster wool<br> +The wrinkles of the road.<br> +<br> +It makes an even face<br> +Of mountain and of plain, —<br> +Unbroken forehead from the east<br> +Unto the east again.<br> +<br> +It reaches to the fence,<br> +It wraps it, rail by rail,<br> +Till it is lost in fleeces;<br> +It flings a crystal veil<br> +<br> +On stump and stack and stem, —<br> +The summer's empty room,<br> +Acres of seams where harvests were,<br> +Recordless, but for them.<br> +<br> +It ruffles wrists of posts,<br> +As ankles of a queen, —<br> +Then stills its artisans like ghosts,<br> +Denying they have been.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="No_brigadier_throughout_the_year"></a> +<br> +LI.<br> +<br> +THE BLUE JAY.<br> +<br> +No brigadier throughout the year<br> +So civic as the jay.<br> +A neighbor and a warrior too,<br> +With shrill felicity<br> +<br> +Pursuing winds that censure us<br> +A February day,<br> +The brother of the universe<br> +Was never blown away.<br> +<br> +The snow and he are intimate;<br> +I 've often seen them play<br> +When heaven looked upon us all<br> +With such severity,<br> +<br> +I felt apology were due<br> +To an insulted sky,<br> +Whose pompous frown was nutriment<br> +To their temerity.<br> +<br> +The pillow of this daring head<br> +Is pungent evergreens;<br> +His larder — terse and militant —<br> +Unknown, refreshing things;<br> +<br> +His character a tonic,<br> +His future a dispute;<br> +Unfair an immortality<br> +That leaves this neighbor out.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Let_down_the_bars_O_Death"></a> +<br> +<br> +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +Let down the bars, O Death!<br> +The tired flocks come in<br> +Whose bleating ceases to repeat,<br> +Whose wandering is done.<br> +<br> +Thine is the stillest night,<br> +Thine the securest fold;<br> +Too near thou art for seeking thee,<br> +Too tender to be told.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Going_to_heaven"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +Going to heaven!<br> +I don't know when,<br> +Pray do not ask me how, —<br> +Indeed, I 'm too astonished<br> +To think of answering you!<br> +Going to heaven! —<br> +How dim it sounds!<br> +And yet it will be done<br> +As sure as flocks go home at night<br> +Unto the shepherd's arm!<br> +<br> +Perhaps you 're going too!<br> +Who knows?<br> +If you should get there first,<br> +Save just a little place for me<br> +Close to the two I lost!<br> +<br> +The smallest "robe" will fit me,<br> +And just a bit of "crown;"<br> +For you know we do not mind our dress<br> +When we are going home.<br> +<br> +I 'm glad I don't believe it,<br> +For it would stop my breath,<br> +And I 'd like to look a little more<br> +At such a curious earth!<br> +I am glad they did believe it<br> +Whom I have never found<br> +Since the mighty autumn afternoon<br> +I left them in the ground.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="At_least_to_pray_is_left_is_left"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +At least to pray is left, is left.<br> +O Jesus! in the air<br> +I know not which thy chamber is, —<br> +I 'm knocking everywhere.<br> +<br> +Thou stirrest earthquake in the South,<br> +And maelstrom in the sea;<br> +Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth,<br> +Hast thou no arm for me?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Step_lightly_on_this_narrow_spot"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +EPITAPH.<br> +<br> +Step lightly on this narrow spot!<br> +The broadest land that grows<br> +Is not so ample as the breast<br> +These emerald seams enclose.<br> +<br> +Step lofty; for this name is told<br> +As far as cannon dwell,<br> +Or flag subsist, or fame export<br> +Her deathless syllable.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Morns_like_these_we_parted"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +Morns like these we parted;<br> +Noons like these she rose,<br> +Fluttering first, then firmer,<br> +To her fair repose.<br> +<br> +Never did she lisp it,<br> +And 't was not for me;<br> +She was mute from transport,<br> +I, from agony!<br> +<br> +Till the evening, nearing,<br> +One the shutters drew —<br> +Quick! a sharper rustling!<br> +And this linnet flew!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_death-blow_is_a_life-blow_to_some"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +A death-blow is a life-blow to some<br> +Who, till they died, did not alive become;<br> +Who, had they lived, had died, but when<br> +They died, vitality begun.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_read_my_sentence_steadily"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +I read my sentence steadily,<br> +Reviewed it with my eyes,<br> +To see that I made no mistake<br> +In its extremest clause, —<br> +<br> +The date, and manner of the shame;<br> +And then the pious form<br> +That "God have mercy" on the soul<br> +The jury voted him.<br> +<br> +I made my soul familiar<br> +With her extremity,<br> +That at the last it should not be<br> +A novel agony,<br> +<br> +But she and Death, acquainted,<br> +Meet tranquilly as friends,<br> +Salute and pass without a hint —<br> +And there the matter ends.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_have_not_told_my_garden_yet"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +I have not told my garden yet,<br> +Lest that should conquer me;<br> +I have not quite the strength now<br> +To break it to the bee.<br> +<br> +I will not name it in the street,<br> +For shops would stare, that I,<br> +So shy, so very ignorant,<br> +Should have the face to die.<br> +<br> +The hillsides must not know it,<br> +Where I have rambled so,<br> +Nor tell the loving forests<br> +The day that I shall go,<br> +<br> +Nor lisp it at the table,<br> +Nor heedless by the way<br> +Hint that within the riddle<br> +One will walk to-day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="They_dropped_like_flakes_they_dropped_like_stars"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +THE BATTLE-FIELD.<br> +<br> +They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,<br> + Like petals from a rose,<br> +When suddenly across the June<br> + A wind with fingers goes.<br> +<br> +They perished in the seamless grass, —<br> + No eye could find the place;<br> +But God on his repealless list<br> + Can summon every face.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_only_ghost_I_ever_saw"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +The only ghost I ever saw<br> +Was dressed in mechlin, — so;<br> +He wore no sandal on his foot,<br> +And stepped like flakes of snow.<br> +His gait was soundless, like the bird,<br> +But rapid, like the roe;<br> +His fashions quaint, mosaic,<br> +Or, haply, mistletoe.<br> +<br> +His conversation seldom,<br> +His laughter like the breeze<br> +That dies away in dimples<br> +Among the pensive trees.<br> +Our interview was transient,—<br> +Of me, himself was shy;<br> +And God forbid I look behind<br> +Since that appalling day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Some_too_fragile_for_winter_winds"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +Some, too fragile for winter winds,<br> +The thoughtful grave encloses, —<br> +Tenderly tucking them in from frost<br> +Before their feet are cold.<br> +<br> +Never the treasures in her nest<br> +The cautious grave exposes,<br> +Building where schoolboy dare not look<br> +And sportsman is not bold.<br> +<br> +This covert have all the children<br> +Early aged, and often cold, —<br> +Sparrows unnoticed by the Father;<br> +Lambs for whom time had not a fold.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="As_by_the_dead_we_love_to_sit"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +As by the dead we love to sit,<br> +Become so wondrous dear,<br> +As for the lost we grapple,<br> +Though all the rest are here, —<br> +<br> +In broken mathematics<br> +We estimate our prize,<br> +Vast, in its fading ratio,<br> +To our penurious eyes!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Death_sets_a_thing_significant"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +MEMORIALS.<br> +<br> +Death sets a thing significant<br> +The eye had hurried by,<br> +Except a perished creature<br> +Entreat us tenderly<br> +<br> +To ponder little workmanships<br> +In crayon or in wool,<br> +With "This was last her fingers did,"<br> +Industrious until<br> +<br> +The thimble weighed too heavy,<br> +The stitches stopped themselves,<br> +And then 't was put among the dust<br> +Upon the closet shelves.<br> +<br> +A book I have, a friend gave,<br> +Whose pencil, here and there,<br> +Had notched the place that pleased him, —<br> +At rest his fingers are.<br> +<br> +Now, when I read, I read not,<br> +For interrupting tears<br> +Obliterate the etchings<br> +Too costly for repairs.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_went_to_heaven"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +I went to heaven, —<br> +'T was a small town,<br> +Lit with a ruby,<br> +Lathed with down.<br> +Stiller than the fields<br> +At the full dew,<br> +Beautiful as pictures<br> +No man drew.<br> +People like the moth,<br> +Of mechlin, frames,<br> +Duties of gossamer,<br> +And eider names.<br> +Almost contented<br> +I could be<br> +'Mong such unique<br> +Society.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Their_height_in_heaven_comforts_not"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +Their height in heaven comforts not,<br> +Their glory nought to me;<br> +'T was best imperfect, as it was;<br> +I 'm finite, I can't see.<br> +<br> +The house of supposition,<br> +The glimmering frontier<br> +That skirts the acres of perhaps,<br> +To me shows insecure.<br> +<br> +The wealth I had contented me;<br> +If 't was a meaner size,<br> +Then I had counted it until<br> +It pleased my narrow eyes<br> +<br> +Better than larger values,<br> +However true their show;<br> +This timid life of evidence<br> +Keeps pleading, "I don't know."<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_is_a_shame_of_nobleness"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +There is a shame of nobleness<br> +Confronting sudden pelf, —<br> +A finer shame of ecstasy<br> +Convicted of itself.<br> +<br> +A best disgrace a brave man feels,<br> +Acknowledged of the brave, —<br> +One more "Ye Blessed" to be told;<br> +But this involves the grave.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Triumph_may_be_of_several_kinds"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +TRIUMPH.<br> +<br> +Triumph may be of several kinds.<br> +There 's triumph in the room<br> +When that old imperator, Death,<br> +By faith is overcome.<br> +<br> +There 's triumph of the finer mind<br> +When truth, affronted long,<br> +Advances calm to her supreme,<br> +Her God her only throng.<br> +<br> +A triumph when temptation's bribe<br> +Is slowly handed back,<br> +One eye upon the heaven renounced<br> +And one upon the rack.<br> +<br> +Severer triumph, by himself<br> +Experienced, who can pass<br> +Acquitted from that naked bar,<br> +Jehovah's countenance!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Pompless_no_life_can_pass_away"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +Pompless no life can pass away;<br> + The lowliest career<br> +To the same pageant wends its way<br> + As that exalted here.<br> +How cordial is the mystery!<br> + The hospitable pall<br> +A "this way" beckons spaciously, —<br> + A miracle for all!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_noticed_people_disappeared"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +I noticed people disappeared,<br> +When but a little child, —<br> +Supposed they visited remote,<br> +Or settled regions wild.<br> +<br> +Now know I they both visited<br> +And settled regions wild,<br> +But did because they died, — a fact<br> +Withheld the little child!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_had_no_cause_to_be_awake"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +FOLLOWING.<br> +<br> +I had no cause to be awake,<br> +My best was gone to sleep,<br> +And morn a new politeness took,<br> +And failed to wake them up,<br> +<br> +But called the others clear,<br> +And passed their curtains by.<br> +Sweet morning, when I over-sleep,<br> +Knock, recollect, for me!<br> +<br> +I looked at sunrise once,<br> +And then I looked at them,<br> +And wishfulness in me arose<br> +For circumstance the same.<br> +<br> +'T was such an ample peace,<br> +It could not hold a sigh, —<br> +'T was Sabbath with the bells divorced,<br> +'T was sunset all the day.<br> +<br> +So choosing but a gown<br> +And taking but a prayer,<br> +The only raiment I should need,<br> +I struggled, and was there.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_anybodys_friend_be_dead"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +If anybody's friend be dead,<br> +It 's sharpest of the theme<br> +The thinking how they walked alive,<br> +At such and such a time.<br> +<br> +Their costume, of a Sunday,<br> +Some manner of the hair, —<br> +A prank nobody knew but them,<br> +Lost, in the sepulchre.<br> +<br> +How warm they were on such a day:<br> +You almost feel the date,<br> +So short way off it seems; and now,<br> +They 're centuries from that.<br> +<br> +How pleased they were at what you said;<br> +You try to touch the smile,<br> +And dip your fingers in the frost:<br> +When was it, can you tell,<br> +<br> +You asked the company to tea,<br> +Acquaintance, just a few,<br> +And chatted close with this grand thing<br> +That don't remember you?<br> +<br> +Past bows and invitations,<br> +Past interview, and vow,<br> +Past what ourselves can estimate, —<br> +That makes the quick of woe!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Our_journey_had_advanced"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +THE JOURNEY.<br> +<br> +Our journey had advanced;<br> +Our feet were almost come<br> +To that odd fork in Being's road,<br> +Eternity by term.<br> +<br> +Our pace took sudden awe,<br> +Our feet reluctant led.<br> +Before were cities, but between,<br> +The forest of the dead.<br> +<br> +Retreat was out of hope, —<br> +Behind, a sealed route,<br> +Eternity's white flag before,<br> +And God at every gate.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Ample_make_this_bed"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +A COUNTRY BURIAL.<br> +<br> +Ample make this bed.<br> +Make this bed with awe;<br> +In it wait till judgment break<br> +Excellent and fair.<br> +<br> +Be its mattress straight,<br> +Be its pillow round;<br> +Let no sunrise' yellow noise<br> +Interrupt this ground.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="On_such_a_night_or_such_a_night"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +GOING.<br> +<br> +On such a night, or such a night,<br> +Would anybody care<br> +If such a little figure<br> +Slipped quiet from its chair,<br> +<br> +So quiet, oh, how quiet!<br> +That nobody might know<br> +But that the little figure<br> +Rocked softer, to and fro?<br> +<br> +On such a dawn, or such a dawn,<br> +Would anybody sigh<br> +That such a little figure<br> +Too sound asleep did lie<br> +<br> +For chanticleer to wake it, —<br> +Or stirring house below,<br> +Or giddy bird in orchard,<br> +Or early task to do?<br> +<br> +There was a little figure plump<br> +For every little knoll,<br> +Busy needles, and spools of thread,<br> +And trudging feet from school.<br> +<br> +Playmates, and holidays, and nuts,<br> +And visions vast and small.<br> +Strange that the feet so precious charged<br> +Should reach so small a goal!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Essential_oils_are_wrung:"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +Essential oils are wrung:<br> +The attar from the rose<br> +Is not expressed by suns alone,<br> +It is the gift of screws.<br> +<br> +The general rose decays;<br> +But this, in lady's drawer,<br> +Makes summer when the lady lies<br> +In ceaseless rosemary.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_lived_on_dread_to_those_who_know"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +I lived on dread; to those who know<br> +The stimulus there is<br> +In danger, other impetus<br> +Is numb and vital-less.<br> +<br> +As 't were a spur upon the soul,<br> +A fear will urge it where<br> +To go without the spectre's aid<br> +Were challenging despair.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_I_should_die"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +If I should die,<br> +And you should live,<br> +And time should gurgle on,<br> +And morn should beam,<br> +And noon should burn,<br> +As it has usual done;<br> +If birds should build as early,<br> +And bees as bustling go, —<br> +One might depart at option<br> +From enterprise below!<br> +'T is sweet to know that stocks will stand<br> +When we with daisies lie,<br> +That commerce will continue,<br> +And trades as briskly fly.<br> +It makes the parting tranquil<br> +And keeps the soul serene,<br> +That gentlemen so sprightly<br> +Conduct the pleasing scene!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Her_final_summer_was_it"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +AT LENGTH.<br> +<br> +Her final summer was it,<br> +And yet we guessed it not;<br> +If tenderer industriousness<br> +Pervaded her, we thought<br> +<br> +A further force of life<br> +Developed from within, —<br> +When Death lit all the shortness up,<br> +And made the hurry plain.<br> +<br> +We wondered at our blindness, —<br> +When nothing was to see<br> +But her Carrara guide-post, —<br> +At our stupidity,<br> +<br> +When, duller than our dullness,<br> +The busy darling lay,<br> +So busy was she, finishing,<br> +So leisurely were we!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="One_need_not_be_a_chamber_to_be_haunted"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +GHOSTS.<br> +<br> +One need not be a chamber to be haunted,<br> +One need not be a house;<br> +The brain has corridors surpassing<br> +Material place.<br> +<br> +Far safer, of a midnight meeting<br> +External ghost,<br> +Than an interior confronting<br> +That whiter host.<br> +<br> +Far safer through an Abbey gallop,<br> +The stones achase,<br> +Than, moonless, one's own self encounter<br> +In lonesome place.<br> +<br> +Ourself, behind ourself concealed,<br> +Should startle most;<br> +Assassin, hid in our apartment,<br> +Be horror's least.<br> +<br> +The prudent carries a revolver,<br> +He bolts the door,<br> +O'erlooking a superior spectre<br> +More near.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_died_this_was_the_way_she_died"></a> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +VANISHED.<br> +<br> +She died, — this was the way she died;<br> +And when her breath was done,<br> +Took up her simple wardrobe<br> +And started for the sun.<br> +<br> +Her little figure at the gate<br> +The angels must have spied,<br> +Since I could never find her<br> +Upon the mortal side.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Wait_till_the_majesty_of_Death"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +PRECEDENCE.<br> +<br> +Wait till the majesty of Death<br> +Invests so mean a brow!<br> +Almost a powdered footman<br> +Might dare to touch it now!<br> +<br> +Wait till in everlasting robes<br> +This democrat is dressed,<br> +Then prate about "preferment"<br> +And "station" and the rest!<br> +<br> +Around this quiet courtier<br> +Obsequious angels wait!<br> +Full royal is his retinue,<br> +Full purple is his state!<br> +<br> +A lord might dare to lift the hat<br> +To such a modest clay,<br> +Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords"<br> +Receives unblushingly!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Went_up_a_year_this_evening"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +GONE.<br> +<br> +Went up a year this evening!<br> +I recollect it well!<br> +Amid no bells nor bravos<br> +The bystanders will tell!<br> +Cheerful, as to the village,<br> +Tranquil, as to repose,<br> +Chastened, as to the chapel,<br> +This humble tourist rose.<br> +Did not talk of returning,<br> +Alluded to no time<br> +When, were the gales propitious,<br> +We might look for him;<br> +Was grateful for the roses<br> +In life's diverse bouquet,<br> +Talked softly of new species<br> +To pick another day.<br> +<br> +Beguiling thus the wonder,<br> +The wondrous nearer drew;<br> +Hands bustled at the moorings —<br> +The crowd respectful grew.<br> +Ascended from our vision<br> +To countenances new!<br> +A difference, a daisy,<br> +Is all the rest I knew!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Taken_from_men_this_morning"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +REQUIEM.<br> +<br> +Taken from men this morning,<br> +Carried by men to-day,<br> +Met by the gods with banners<br> +Who marshalled her away.<br> +<br> +One little maid from playmates,<br> +One little mind from school, —<br> +There must be guests in Eden;<br> +All the rooms are full.<br> +<br> +Far as the east from even,<br> +Dim as the border star, —<br> +Courtiers quaint, in kingdoms,<br> +Our departed are.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="What_inn_is_this"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +What inn is this<br> +Where for the night<br> +Peculiar traveller comes?<br> +Who is the landlord?<br> +Where the maids?<br> +Behold, what curious rooms!<br> +No ruddy fires on the hearth,<br> +No brimming tankards flow.<br> +Necromancer, landlord,<br> +Who are these below?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_was_not_death_for_I_stood_up"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +It was not death, for I stood up,<br> +And all the dead lie down;<br> +It was not night, for all the bells<br> +Put out their tongues, for noon.<br> +<br> +It was not frost, for on my flesh<br> +I felt siroccos crawl, —<br> +Nor fire, for just my marble feet<br> +Could keep a chancel cool.<br> +<br> +And yet it tasted like them all;<br> +The figures I have seen<br> +Set orderly, for burial,<br> +Reminded me of mine,<br> +<br> +As if my life were shaven<br> +And fitted to a frame,<br> +And could not breathe without a key;<br> +And 't was like midnight, some,<br> +<br> +When everything that ticked has stopped,<br> +And space stares, all around,<br> +Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,<br> +Repeal the beating ground.<br> +<br> +But most like chaos, — stopless, cool, —<br> +Without a chance or spar,<br> +Or even a report of land<br> +To justify despair.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_should_not_dare_to_leave_my_friend"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +TILL THE END.<br> +<br> +I should not dare to leave my friend,<br> +Because — because if he should die<br> +While I was gone, and I — too late —<br> +Should reach the heart that wanted me;<br> +<br> +If I should disappoint the eyes<br> +That hunted, hunted so, to see,<br> +And could not bear to shut until<br> +They "noticed" me — they noticed me;<br> +<br> +If I should stab the patient faith<br> +So sure I 'd come — so sure I 'd come,<br> +It listening, listening, went to sleep<br> +Telling my tardy name, —<br> +<br> +My heart would wish it broke before,<br> +Since breaking then, since breaking then,<br> +Were useless as next morning's sun,<br> +Where midnight frosts had lain!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Great_streets_of_silence_led_away"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +VOID.<br> +<br> +Great streets of silence led away<br> +To neighborhoods of pause;<br> +Here was no notice, no dissent,<br> +No universe, no laws.<br> +<br> +By clocks 't was morning, and for night<br> +The bells at distance called;<br> +But epoch had no basis here,<br> +For period exhaled.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_throe_upon_the_features"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +A throe upon the features<br> +A hurry in the breath,<br> +An ecstasy of parting<br> +Denominated "Death," —<br> +<br> +An anguish at the mention,<br> +Which, when to patience grown,<br> +I 've known permission given<br> +To rejoin its own.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Of_tribulation_these_are_they"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +SAVED!<br> +<br> +Of tribulation these are they<br> +Denoted by the white;<br> +The spangled gowns, a lesser rank<br> +Of victors designate.<br> +<br> +All these did conquer; but the ones<br> +Who overcame most times<br> +Wear nothing commoner than snow,<br> +No ornament but palms.<br> +<br> +Surrender is a sort unknown<br> +On this superior soil;<br> +Defeat, an outgrown anguish,<br> +Remembered as the mile<br> +<br> +Our panting ankle barely gained<br> +When night devoured the road;<br> +But we stood whispering in the house,<br> +And all we said was "Saved"!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_think_just_how_my_shape_will_rise"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +I think just how my shape will rise<br> +When I shall be forgiven,<br> +Till hair and eyes and timid head<br> +Are out of sight, in heaven.<br> +<br> +I think just how my lips will weigh<br> +With shapeless, quivering prayer<br> +That you, so late, consider me,<br> +The sparrow of your care.<br> +<br> +I mind me that of anguish sent,<br> +Some drifts were moved away<br> +Before my simple bosom broke, —<br> +And why not this, if they?<br> +<br> +And so, until delirious borne<br> +I con that thing, — "forgiven," —<br> +Till with long fright and longer trust<br> +I drop my heart, unshriven!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="After_a_hundred_years"></a> +<br> +XLI.<br> +<br> +THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE.<br> +<br> +After a hundred years<br> +Nobody knows the place, —<br> +Agony, that enacted there,<br> +Motionless as peace.<br> +<br> +Weeds triumphant ranged,<br> +Strangers strolled and spelled<br> +At the lone orthography<br> +Of the elder dead.<br> +<br> +Winds of summer fields<br> +Recollect the way, —<br> +Instinct picking up the key<br> +Dropped by memory.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Lay_this_laurel_on_the_one"></a> +<br> +XLII.<br> +<br> +Lay this laurel on the one<br> +Too intrinsic for renown.<br> +Laurel! veil your deathless tree, —<br> +Him you chasten, that is he!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<a name="Series_Three"> </a> +<h2>POEMS</h2> + +<h2>by EMILY DICKINSON</h2> + +<h2>Third Series</h2> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + +<p>Edited by</p> + +<p>MABEL LOOMIS TODD</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="indent"> +It's all I have to bring to-day,<br> + This, and my heart beside,<br> +This, and my heart, and all the fields,<br> + And all the meadows wide.<br> +Be sure you count, should I forget, —<br> + Some one the sum could tell, —<br> +This, and my heart, and all the bees<br> + Which in the clover dwell.<br> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<p>PREFACE.</p> + +<p>The intellectual activity of Emily Dickinson was so great that +a large and characteristic choice is still possible among her +literary material, and this third volume of her verses is put +forth in response to the repeated wish of the admirers of her +peculiar genius. Much of Emily Dickinson's prose was rhythmic, +—even rhymed, though frequently not set apart in lines.</p> + +<p>Also many verses, written as such, were sent to friends in +letters; these were published in 1894, in the volumes of her +<i>Letters</i>. It has not been necessary, however, to include them in +this Series, and all have been omitted, except three or four +exceptionally strong ones, as "A Book," and "With Flowers."</p> + +<p>There is internal evidence that many of the poems were simply +spontaneous flashes of insight, apparently unrelated to outward +circumstance. Others, however, had an obvious personal origin; +for example, the verses "I had a Guinea golden," which seem to +have been sent to some friend travelling in Europe, as a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. The surroundings in +which any of Emily Dickinson's verses are known to have been +written usually serve to explain them clearly; but in general the +present volume is full of thoughts needing no interpretation to +those who apprehend this scintillating spirit.</p> + +<p class="indent"> M. L. T.</p> + +<p>AMHERST, <i>October</i>, 1896.</p> + +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I. LIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="T_is_little_I_could_care_for_pearls"></a> +I.<br> +<br> +REAL RICHES.<br> +<br> +'T is little I could care for pearls<br> + Who own the ample sea;<br> +Or brooches, when the Emperor<br> + With rubies pelteth me;<br> +<br> +Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines;<br> + Or diamonds, when I see<br> +A diadem to fit a dome<br> + Continual crowning me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +SUPERIORITY TO FATE.<br> +<br> +<a name="Superiority_to_fate"></a> +Superiority to fate<br> + Is difficult to learn.<br> +'T is not conferred by any,<br> + But possible to earn<br> +<br> +A pittance at a time,<br> + Until, to her surprise,<br> +The soul with strict economy<br> + Subsists till Paradise.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Hope_is_a_subtle_glutton"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +HOPE.<br> +<br> +Hope is a subtle glutton;<br> + He feeds upon the fair;<br> +And yet, inspected closely,<br> + What abstinence is there!<br> +<br> +His is the halcyon table<br> + That never seats but one,<br> +And whatsoever is consumed<br> + The same amounts remain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Forbidden_fruit_a_flavor_has"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +FORBIDDEN FRUIT.<br> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +Forbidden fruit a flavor has<br> + That lawful orchards mocks;<br> +How luscious lies the pea within<br> + The pod that Duty locks!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Heaven_is_what_I_cannot_reach"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +FORBIDDEN FRUIT.<br> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +Heaven is what I cannot reach!<br> + The apple on the tree,<br> +Provided it do hopeless hang,<br> + That 'heaven' is, to me.<br> +<br> +The color on the cruising cloud,<br> + The interdicted ground<br> +Behind the hill, the house behind, —<br> + There Paradise is found!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_word_is_dead"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +A WORD.<br> +<br> +A word is dead<br> +When it is said,<br> + Some say.<br> +I say it just<br> +Begins to live<br> + That day.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_venerate_the_simple_days"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +To venerate the simple days<br> + Which lead the seasons by,<br> +Needs but to remember<br> + That from you or me<br> +They may take the trifle<br> + Termed mortality!<br> +<br> +To invest existence with a stately air,<br> +Needs but to remember<br> + That the acorn there<br> +Is the egg of forests<br> + For the upper air!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Its_such_a_little_thing_to_weep"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +LIFE'S TRADES.<br> +<br> +It's such a little thing to weep,<br> + So short a thing to sigh;<br> +And yet by trades the size of these<br> + We men and women die!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Drowning_is_not_so_pitiful"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +Drowning is not so pitiful<br> + As the attempt to rise.<br> +Three times, 't is said, a sinking man<br> + Comes up to face the skies,<br> +And then declines forever<br> + To that abhorred abode<br> +Where hope and he part company, —<br> + For he is grasped of God.<br> +The Maker's cordial visage,<br> + However good to see,<br> +Is shunned, we must admit it,<br> + Like an adversity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="How_still_the_bells_in_steeples_stand"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +How still the bells in steeples stand,<br> + Till, swollen with the sky,<br> +They leap upon their silver feet<br> + In frantic melody!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_the_foolish_call_them_flowers"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +If the foolish call them 'flowers,'<br> + Need the wiser tell?<br> +If the savans 'classify' them,<br> + It is just as well!<br> +<br> +Those who read the Revelations<br> + Must not criticise<br> +Those who read the same edition<br> + With beclouded eyes!<br> +<br> +Could we stand with that old Moses<br> + Canaan denied, —<br> +Scan, like him, the stately landscape<br> + On the other side, —<br> +<br> +Doubtless we should deem superfluous<br> + Many sciences<br> +Not pursued by learnèd angels<br> + In scholastic skies!<br> +<br> +Low amid that glad <i>Belles lettres</i><br> + Grant that we may stand,<br> +Stars, amid profound Galaxies,<br> + At that grand 'Right hand'!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Could_mortal_lip_divine"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +A SYLLABLE.<br> +<br> +Could mortal lip divine<br> + The undeveloped freight<br> +Of a delivered syllable,<br> + 'T would crumble with the weight.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_life_closed_twice_before_its_close"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +PARTING.<br> +<br> +My life closed twice before its close;<br> + It yet remains to see<br> +If Immortality unveil<br> + A third event to me,<br> +<br> +So huge, so hopeless to conceive,<br> + As these that twice befell.<br> +Parting is all we know of heaven,<br> + And all we need of hell.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_never_know_how_high_we_are"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +ASPIRATION.<br> +<br> +We never know how high we are<br> + Till we are called to rise;<br> +And then, if we are true to plan,<br> + Our statures touch the skies.<br> +<br> +The heroism we recite<br> + Would be a daily thing,<br> +Did not ourselves the cubits warp<br> + For fear to be a king.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="While_I_was_fearing_it_it_came"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +THE INEVITABLE.<br> +<br> +While I was fearing it, it came,<br> + But came with less of fear,<br> +Because that fearing it so long<br> + Had almost made it dear.<br> +There is a fitting a dismay,<br> + A fitting a despair.<br> +'Tis harder knowing it is due,<br> + Than knowing it is here.<br> +The trying on the utmost,<br> + The morning it is new,<br> +Is terribler than wearing it<br> + A whole existence through.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_is_no_frigate_like_a_book"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +A BOOK.<br> +<br> +There is no frigate like a book<br> + To take us lands away,<br> +Nor any coursers like a page<br> + Of prancing poetry.<br> +This traverse may the poorest take<br> + Without oppress of toll;<br> +How frugal is the chariot<br> + That bears a human soul!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Who_has_not_found_the_heaven_below"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +Who has not found the heaven below<br> + Will fail of it above.<br> +God's residence is next to mine,<br> + His furniture is love.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_face_devoid_of_love_or_grace"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +A PORTRAIT.<br> +<br> +A face devoid of love or grace,<br> + A hateful, hard, successful face,<br> +A face with which a stone<br> + Would feel as thoroughly at ease<br> +As were they old acquaintances, —<br> + First time together thrown.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_had_a_guinea_golden"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +I HAD A GUINEA GOLDEN.<br> +<br> +I had a guinea golden;<br> + I lost it in the sand,<br> +And though the sum was simple,<br> + And pounds were in the land,<br> +Still had it such a value<br> + Unto my frugal eye,<br> +That when I could not find it<br> + I sat me down to sigh.<br> +<br> +I had a crimson robin<br> + Who sang full many a day,<br> +But when the woods were painted<br> + He, too, did fly away.<br> +Time brought me other robins, —<br> + Their ballads were the same, —<br> +Still for my missing troubadour<br> + I kept the 'house at hame.'<br> +<br> +I had a star in heaven;<br> + One Pleiad was its name,<br> +And when I was not heeding<br> + It wandered from the same.<br> +And though the skies are crowded,<br> + And all the night ashine,<br> +I do not care about it,<br> + Since none of them are mine.<br> +<br> +My story has a moral:<br> + I have a missing friend, —<br> +Pleiad its name, and robin,<br> + And guinea in the sand, —<br> +And when this mournful ditty,<br> + Accompanied with tear,<br> +Shall meet the eye of traitor<br> + In country far from here,<br> +Grant that repentance solemn<br> + May seize upon his mind,<br> +And he no consolation<br> + Beneath the sun may find.<br> +<br> +NOTE. — This poem may have had, like many others, a<br> +personal origin. It is more than probable that it was<br> +sent to some friend travelling in Europe, a dainty<br> +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="From_all_the_jails_the_boys_and_girls"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +SATURDAY AFTERNOON.<br> +<br> +From all the jails the boys and girls<br> + Ecstatically leap, —<br> +Beloved, only afternoon<br> + That prison doesn't keep.<br> +<br> +They storm the earth and stun the air,<br> + A mob of solid bliss.<br> +Alas! that frowns could lie in wait<br> + For such a foe as this!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Few_get_enough_enough_is_one"></a> +<br> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +Few get enough, — enough is one;<br> + To that ethereal throng<br> +Have not each one of us the right<br> + To stealthily belong?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Upon_the_gallows_hung_a_wretch"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +Upon the gallows hung a wretch,<br> + Too sullied for the hell<br> +To which the law entitled him.<br> + As nature's curtain fell<br> +The one who bore him tottered in,<br> + For this was woman's son.<br> +''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped;<br> + Oh, what a livid boon!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_felt_a_clearing_in_my_mind"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +THE LOST THOUGHT.<br> +<br> +I felt a clearing in my mind<br> + As if my brain had split;<br> +I tried to match it, seam by seam,<br> + But could not make them fit.<br> +<br> +The thought behind I strove to join<br> + Unto the thought before,<br> +But sequence ravelled out of reach<br> + Like balls upon a floor.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_reticent_volcano_keeps"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +RETICENCE.<br> +<br> +The reticent volcano keeps<br> + His never slumbering plan;<br> +Confided are his projects pink<br> + To no precarious man.<br> +<br> +If nature will not tell the tale<br> + Jehovah told to her,<br> +Can human nature not survive<br> + Without a listener?<br> +<br> +Admonished by her buckled lips<br> + Let every babbler be.<br> +The only secret people keep<br> + Is Immortality.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_recollecting_were_forgetting"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +WITH FLOWERS.<br> +<br> +If recollecting were forgetting,<br> + Then I remember not;<br> +And if forgetting, recollecting,<br> + How near I had forgot!<br> +And if to miss were merry,<br> + And if to mourn were gay,<br> +How very blithe the fingers<br> + That gathered these to-day!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_farthest_thunder_that_I_heard"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +The farthest thunder that I heard<br> + Was nearer than the sky,<br> +And rumbles still, though torrid noons<br> + Have lain their missiles by.<br> +The lightning that preceded it<br> + Struck no one but myself,<br> +But I would not exchange the bolt<br> + For all the rest of life.<br> +Indebtedness to oxygen<br> + The chemist may repay,<br> +But not the obligation<br> + To electricity.<br> +It founds the homes and decks the days,<br> + And every clamor bright<br> +Is but the gleam concomitant<br> + Of that waylaying light.<br> +The thought is quiet as a flake, —<br> + A crash without a sound;<br> +How life's reverberation<br> + Its explanation found!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="On_the_bleakness_of_my_lot"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +On the bleakness of my lot<br> + Bloom I strove to raise.<br> +Late, my acre of a rock<br> + Yielded grape and maize.<br> +<br> +Soil of flint if steadfast tilled<br> + Will reward the hand;<br> +Seed of palm by Lybian sun<br> + Fructified in sand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_door_just_opened_on_a_street"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +CONTRAST.<br> +<br> +A door just opened on a street —<br> + I, lost, was passing by —<br> +An instant's width of warmth disclosed,<br> + And wealth, and company.<br> +<br> +The door as sudden shut, and I,<br> + I, lost, was passing by, —<br> +Lost doubly, but by contrast most,<br> + Enlightening misery.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Are_friends_delight_or_pain"></a> +<br> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +FRIENDS.<br> +<br> +Are friends delight or pain?<br> + Could bounty but remain<br> +Riches were good.<br> +<br> +But if they only stay<br> +Bolder to fly away,<br> + Riches are sad.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Ashes_denote_that_fire_was"></a> +<br> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +FIRE.<br> +<br> +Ashes denote that fire was;<br> + Respect the grayest pile<br> +For the departed creature's sake<br> + That hovered there awhile.<br> +<br> +Fire exists the first in light,<br> + And then consolidates, —<br> +Only the chemist can disclose<br> + Into what carbonates.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Fate_slew_him_but_he_did_not_drop"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +A MAN.<br> +<br> +Fate slew him, but he did not drop;<br> + She felled — he did not fall —<br> +Impaled him on her fiercest stakes —<br> + He neutralized them all.<br> +<br> +She stung him, sapped his firm advance,<br> + But, when her worst was done,<br> +And he, unmoved, regarded her,<br> + Acknowledged him a man.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Finite_to_fail_but_infinite_to_venture"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +VENTURES.<br> +<br> +Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.<br> + For the one ship that struts the shore<br> +Many's the gallant, overwhelmed creature<br> + Nodding in navies nevermore.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_measure_every_grief_I_meet"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +GRIEFS.<br> +<br> +I measure every grief I meet<br> + With analytic eyes;<br> +I wonder if it weighs like mine,<br> + Or has an easier size.<br> +<br> +I wonder if they bore it long,<br> + Or did it just begin?<br> +I could not tell the date of mine,<br> + It feels so old a pain.<br> +<br> +I wonder if it hurts to live,<br> + And if they have to try,<br> +And whether, could they choose between,<br> + They would not rather die.<br> +<br> +I wonder if when years have piled —<br> + Some thousands — on the cause<br> +Of early hurt, if such a lapse<br> + Could give them any pause;<br> +<br> +Or would they go on aching still<br> + Through centuries above,<br> +Enlightened to a larger pain<br> + By contrast with the love.<br> +<br> +The grieved are many, I am told;<br> + The reason deeper lies, —<br> +Death is but one and comes but once,<br> + And only nails the eyes.<br> +<br> +There's grief of want, and grief of cold, —<br> + A sort they call 'despair;'<br> +There's banishment from native eyes,<br> + In sight of native air.<br> +<br> +And though I may not guess the kind<br> + Correctly, yet to me<br> +A piercing comfort it affords<br> + In passing Calvary,<br> +<br> +To note the fashions of the cross,<br> + Of those that stand alone,<br> +Still fascinated to presume<br> + That some are like my own.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_have_a_king_who_does_not_speak"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +I have a king who does not speak;<br> +So, wondering, thro' the hours meek<br> + I trudge the day away,—<br> +Half glad when it is night and sleep,<br> +If, haply, thro' a dream to peep<br> + In parlors shut by day.<br> +<br> +And if I do, when morning comes,<br> +It is as if a hundred drums<br> + Did round my pillow roll,<br> +And shouts fill all my childish sky,<br> +And bells keep saying 'victory'<br> + From steeples in my soul!<br> +<br> +And if I don't, the little Bird<br> +Within the Orchard is not heard,<br> + And I omit to pray,<br> +'Father, thy will be done' to-day,<br> +For my will goes the other way,<br> + And it were perjury!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_dropped_so_low_in_my_regard"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +DISENCHANTMENT.<br> +<br> +It dropped so low in my regard<br> + I heard it hit the ground,<br> +And go to pieces on the stones<br> + At bottom of my mind;<br> +<br> +Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less<br> + Than I reviled myself<br> +For entertaining plated wares<br> + Upon my silver shelf.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_lose_ones_faith_surpasses"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +LOST FAITH.<br> +<br> +To lose one's faith surpasses<br> + The loss of an estate,<br> +Because estates can be<br> + Replenished, — faith cannot.<br> +<br> +Inherited with life,<br> + Belief but once can be;<br> +Annihilate a single clause,<br> + And Being's beggary.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_had_a_daily_bliss"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +LOST JOY.<br> +<br> +I had a daily bliss<br> + I half indifferent viewed,<br> +Till sudden I perceived it stir, —<br> + It grew as I pursued,<br> +<br> +Till when, around a crag,<br> + It wasted from my sight,<br> +Enlarged beyond my utmost scope,<br> + I learned its sweetness right.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_worked_for_chaff_and_earning_wheat"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +I worked for chaff, and earning wheat<br> + Was haughty and betrayed.<br> +What right had fields to arbitrate<br> + In matters ratified?<br> +<br> +I tasted wheat, — and hated chaff,<br> + And thanked the ample friend;<br> +Wisdom is more becoming viewed<br> + At distance than at hand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Life_and_Death_and_Giants"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +Life, and Death, and Giants<br> + Such as these, are still.<br> +Minor apparatus, hopper of the mill,<br> +Beetle at the candle,<br> + Or a fife's small fame,<br> +Maintain by accident<br> + That they proclaim.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Our_lives_are_Swiss"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +ALPINE GLOW.<br> +<br> +Our lives are Swiss, —<br> + So still, so cool,<br> + Till, some odd afternoon,<br> +The Alps neglect their curtains,<br> + And we look farther on.<br> +<br> +Italy stands the other side,<br> + While, like a guard between,<br> +The solemn Alps,<br> +The siren Alps,<br> + Forever intervene!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Remembrance_has_a_rear_and_front"></a> +<br> +XLI.<br> +<br> +REMEMBRANCE.<br> +<br> +Remembrance has a rear and front, —<br> + 'T is something like a house;<br> +It has a garret also<br> + For refuse and the mouse,<br> +<br> +Besides, the deepest cellar<br> + That ever mason hewed;<br> +Look to it, by its fathoms<br> + Ourselves be not pursued.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_hang_our_head_ostensibly"></a> +<br> +XLII.<br> +<br> +To hang our head ostensibly,<br> + And subsequent to find<br> +That such was not the posture<br> + Of our immortal mind,<br> +<br> +Affords the sly presumption<br> + That, in so dense a fuzz,<br> +You, too, take cobweb attitudes<br> + Upon a plane of gauze!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_brain_is_wider_than_the_sky"></a> +<br> +XLIII.<br> +<br> +THE BRAIN.<br> +<br> +The brain is wider than the sky,<br> + For, put them side by side,<br> +The one the other will include<br> + With ease, and you beside.<br> +<br> +The brain is deeper than the sea,<br> + For, hold them, blue to blue,<br> +The one the other will absorb,<br> + As sponges, buckets do.<br> +<br> +The brain is just the weight of God,<br> + For, lift them, pound for pound,<br> +And they will differ, if they do,<br> + As syllable from sound.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_bone_that_has_no_marrow"></a> +<br> +XLIV.<br> +<br> +The bone that has no marrow;<br> + What ultimate for that?<br> +It is not fit for table,<br> + For beggar, or for cat.<br> +<br> +A bone has obligations,<br> + A being has the same;<br> +A marrowless assembly<br> + Is culpabler than shame.<br> +<br> +But how shall finished creatures<br> + A function fresh obtain? —<br> +Old Nicodemus' phantom<br> + Confronting us again!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_past_is_such_a_curious_creature"></a> +<br> +XLV.<br> +<br> +THE PAST.<br> +<br> +The past is such a curious creature,<br> + To look her in the face<br> +A transport may reward us,<br> + Or a disgrace.<br> +<br> +Unarmed if any meet her,<br> + I charge him, fly!<br> +Her rusty ammunition<br> + Might yet reply!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_help_our_bleaker_parts"></a> +<br> +XLVI.<br> +<br> +To help our bleaker parts<br> + Salubrious hours are given,<br> +Which if they do not fit for earth<br> + Drill silently for heaven.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="What_soft_cherubic_creatures"></a> +<br> +XLVII.<br> +<br> +What soft, cherubic creatures<br> + These gentlewomen are!<br> +One would as soon assault a plush<br> + Or violate a star.<br> +<br> +Such dimity convictions,<br> + A horror so refined<br> +Of freckled human nature,<br> + Of Deity ashamed, —<br> +<br> +It's such a common glory,<br> + A fisherman's degree!<br> +Redemption, brittle lady,<br> + Be so, ashamed of thee.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Who_never_wanted_maddest_joy"></a> +<br> +XLVIII.<br> +<br> +DESIRE.<br> +<br> +Who never wanted, — maddest joy<br> + Remains to him unknown:<br> +The banquet of abstemiousness<br> + Surpasses that of wine.<br> +<br> +Within its hope, though yet ungrasped<br> + Desire's perfect goal,<br> +No nearer, lest reality<br> + Should disenthrall thy soul.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_might_be_easier"></a> +<br> +XLIX.<br> +<br> +PHILOSOPHY.<br> +<br> +It might be easier<br> + To fail with land in sight,<br> +Than gain my blue peninsula<br> + To perish of delight.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="You_cannot_put_a_fire_out"></a> +<br> +L.<br> +<br> +POWER.<br> +<br> +You cannot put a fire out;<br> + A thing that can ignite<br> +Can go, itself, without a fan<br> + Upon the slowest night.<br> +<br> +You cannot fold a flood<br> + And put it in a drawer, —<br> +Because the winds would find it out,<br> + And tell your cedar floor.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_modest_lot_a_fame_petite"></a> +<br> +LI.<br> +<br> +A modest lot, a fame petite,<br> + A brief campaign of sting and sweet<br> + Is plenty! Is enough!<br> +A sailor's business is the shore,<br> + A soldier's — balls. Who asketh more<br> +Must seek the neighboring life!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Is_bliss_then_such_abyss"></a> +<br> +LII.<br> +<br> +Is bliss, then, such abyss<br> +I must not put my foot amiss<br> +For fear I spoil my shoe?<br> +<br> +I'd rather suit my foot<br> +Than save my boot,<br> +For yet to buy another pair<br> +Is possible<br> +At any fair.<br> +<br> +But bliss is sold just once;<br> +The patent lost<br> +None buy it any more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_stepped_from_plank_to_plank"></a> +<br> +LIII.<br> +<br> +EXPERIENCE.<br> +<br> +I stepped from plank to plank<br> + So slow and cautiously;<br> +The stars about my head I felt,<br> + About my feet the sea.<br> +<br> +I knew not but the next<br> + Would be my final inch, —<br> +This gave me that precarious gait<br> + Some call experience.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="One_day_is_there_of_the_series"></a> +<br> +LIV.<br> +<br> +THANKSGIVING DAY.<br> +<br> +One day is there of the series<br> + Termed Thanksgiving day,<br> +Celebrated part at table,<br> + Part in memory.<br> +<br> +Neither patriarch nor pussy,<br> + I dissect the play;<br> +Seems it, to my hooded thinking,<br> + Reflex holiday.<br> +<br> +Had there been no sharp subtraction<br> + From the early sum,<br> +Not an acre or a caption<br> + Where was once a room,<br> +<br> +Not a mention, whose small pebble<br> + Wrinkled any bay, —<br> +Unto such, were such assembly,<br> + 'T were Thanksgiving day.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Softened_by_Times_consummate_plush"></a> +<br> +LV.<br> +<br> +CHILDISH GRIEFS.<br> +<br> +Softened by Time's consummate plush,<br> + How sleek the woe appears<br> +That threatened childhood's citadel<br> + And undermined the years!<br> +<br> +Bisected now by bleaker griefs,<br> + We envy the despair<br> +That devastated childhood's realm,<br> + So easy to repair.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +II. LOVE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Proud_of_my_broken_heart_since_thou_didst_break_it"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +CONSECRATION.<br> +<br> +Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,<br> + Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,<br> +Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,<br> + Not to partake thy passion, my humility.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_worthiness_is_all_my_doubt"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +LOVE'S HUMILITY.<br> +<br> +My worthiness is all my doubt,<br> + His merit all my fear,<br> +Contrasting which, my qualities<br> + Do lowlier appear;<br> +<br> +Lest I should insufficient prove<br> + For his beloved need,<br> +The chiefest apprehension<br> + Within my loving creed.<br> +<br> +So I, the undivine abode<br> + Of his elect content,<br> +Conform my soul as 't were a church<br> + Unto her sacrament.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Love_is_anterior_to_life"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +LOVE.<br> +<br> +Love is anterior to life,<br> + Posterior to death,<br> +Initial of creation, and<br> + The exponent of breath.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="One_blessing_had_I_than_the_rest"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +SATISFIED.<br> +<br> +One blessing had I, than the rest<br> + So larger to my eyes<br> +That I stopped gauging, satisfied,<br> + For this enchanted size.<br> +<br> +It was the limit of my dream,<br> + The focus of my prayer, —<br> +A perfect, paralyzing bliss<br> + Contented as despair.<br> +<br> +I knew no more of want or cold,<br> + Phantasms both become,<br> +For this new value in the soul,<br> + Supremest earthly sum.<br> +<br> +The heaven below the heaven above<br> + Obscured with ruddier hue.<br> +Life's latitude leant over-full;<br> + The judgment perished, too.<br> +<br> +Why joys so scantily disburse,<br> + Why Paradise defer,<br> +Why floods are served to us in bowls, —<br> + I speculate no more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="When_roses_cease_to_bloom_dear"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +WITH A FLOWER.<br> +<br> +When roses cease to bloom, dear,<br> + And violets are done,<br> +When bumble-bees in solemn flight<br> + Have passed beyond the sun,<br> +<br> +The hand that paused to gather<br> + Upon this summer's day<br> +Will idle lie, in Auburn, —<br> + Then take my flower, pray!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Summer_for_thee_grant_I_may_be"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +SONG.<br> +<br> +Summer for thee grant I may be<br> + When summer days are flown!<br> +Thy music still when whippoorwill<br> + And oriole are done!<br> +<br> +For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb<br> + And sow my blossoms o'er!<br> +Pray gather me, Anemone,<br> + Thy flower forevermore!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Split_the_lark_and_youll_find_the_music"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +LOYALTY.<br> +<br> +Split the lark and you'll find the music,<br> + Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled,<br> +Scantily dealt to the summer morning,<br> + Saved for your ear when lutes be old.<br> +<br> +Loose the flood, you shall find it patent,<br> + Gush after gush, reserved for you;<br> +Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas,<br> + Now, do you doubt that your bird was true?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_lose_thee_sweeter_than_to_gain"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +To lose thee, sweeter than to gain<br> + All other hearts I knew.<br> +'T is true the drought is destitute,<br> + But then I had the dew!<br> +<br> +The Caspian has its realms of sand,<br> + Its other realm of sea;<br> +Without the sterile perquisite<br> + No Caspian could be.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Poor_little_heart"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> + Poor little heart!<br> + Did they forget thee?<br> +Then dinna care! Then dinna care!<br> +<br> + Proud little heart!<br> + Did they forsake thee?<br> +Be debonair! Be debonair!<br> +<br> + Frail little heart!<br> + I would not break thee:<br> +Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me?<br> +<br> + Gay little heart!<br> + Like morning glory<br> +Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="There_is_a_word"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +FORGOTTEN.<br> +<br> +There is a word<br> + Which bears a sword<br> + Can pierce an armed man.<br> +It hurls its barbed syllables,—<br> + At once is mute again.<br> +But where it fell<br> +The saved will tell<br> + On patriotic day,<br> +Some epauletted brother<br> + Gave his breath away.<br> +<br> +Wherever runs the breathless sun,<br> + Wherever roams the day,<br> +There is its noiseless onset,<br> + There is its victory!<br> +<br> +Behold the keenest marksman!<br> + The most accomplished shot!<br> +Time's sublimest target<br> + Is a soul 'forgot'!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Ive_got_an_arrow_here"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +I've got an arrow here;<br> + Loving the hand that sent it,<br> +I the dart revere.<br> +<br> +Fell, they will say, in 'skirmish'!<br> + Vanquished, my soul will know,<br> +By but a simple arrow<br> + Sped by an archer's bow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="He_fumbles_at_your_spirit"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +THE MASTER.<br> +<br> +He fumbles at your spirit<br> + As players at the keys<br> +Before they drop full music on;<br> + He stuns you by degrees,<br> +<br> +Prepares your brittle substance<br> + For the ethereal blow,<br> +By fainter hammers, further heard,<br> + Then nearer, then so slow<br> +<br> +Your breath has time to straighten,<br> + Your brain to bubble cool, —<br> +Deals one imperial thunderbolt<br> + That scalps your naked soul.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Heart_we_will_forget_him"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +Heart, we will forget him!<br> + You and I, to-night!<br> +You may forget the warmth he gave,<br> + I will forget the light.<br> +<br> +When you have done, pray tell me,<br> + That I my thoughts may dim;<br> +Haste! lest while you're lagging,<br> + I may remember him!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Father_I_bring_thee_not_myself"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +Father, I bring thee not myself, —<br> + That were the little load;<br> +I bring thee the imperial heart<br> + I had not strength to hold.<br> +<br> +The heart I cherished in my own<br> + Till mine too heavy grew,<br> +Yet strangest, heavier since it went,<br> + Is it too large for you?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_outgrow_love_like_other_things"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +We outgrow love like other things<br> + And put it in the drawer,<br> +Till it an antique fashion shows<br> + Like costumes grandsires wore.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Not_with_a_club_the_heart_is_broken"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +Not with a club the heart is broken,<br> + Nor with a stone;<br> +A whip, so small you could not see it.<br> + I've known<br> +<br> +To lash the magic creature<br> + Till it fell,<br> +Yet that whip's name too noble<br> + Then to tell.<br> +<br> +Magnanimous of bird<br> + By boy descried,<br> +To sing unto the stone<br> + Of which it died.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="My_friend_must_be_a_bird"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +WHO?<br> +<br> +My friend must be a bird,<br> + Because it flies!<br> +Mortal my friend must be,<br> + Because it dies!<br> +Barbs has it, like a bee.<br> +Ah, curious friend,<br> + Thou puzzlest me!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="He_touched_me_so_I_live_to_know"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +He touched me, so I live to know<br> +That such a day, permitted so,<br> + I groped upon his breast.<br> +It was a boundless place to me,<br> +And silenced, as the awful sea<br> + Puts minor streams to rest.<br> +<br> +And now, I'm different from before,<br> +As if I breathed superior air,<br> + Or brushed a royal gown;<br> +My feet, too, that had wandered so,<br> +My gypsy face transfigured now<br> + To tenderer renown.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Let_me_not_mar_that_perfect_dream"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +DREAMS.<br> +<br> +Let me not mar that perfect dream<br> + By an auroral stain,<br> +But so adjust my daily night<br> + That it will come again.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_live_with_him_I_see_his_face"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +NUMEN LUMEN.<br> +<br> +I live with him, I see his face;<br> + I go no more away<br> +For visitor, or sundown;<br> + Death's single privacy,<br> +<br> +The only one forestalling mine,<br> + And that by right that he<br> +Presents a claim invisible,<br> + No wedlock granted me.<br> +<br> +I live with him, I hear his voice,<br> + I stand alive to-day<br> +To witness to the certainty<br> + Of immortality<br> +<br> +Taught me by Time, — the lower way,<br> + Conviction every day, —<br> +That life like this is endless,<br> + Be judgment what it may.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_envy_seas_whereon_he_rides"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +LONGING.<br> +<br> +I envy seas whereon he rides,<br> + I envy spokes of wheels<br> +Of chariots that him convey,<br> + I envy speechless hills<br> +<br> +That gaze upon his journey;<br> + How easy all can see<br> +What is forbidden utterly<br> + As heaven, unto me!<br> +<br> +I envy nests of sparrows<br> + That dot his distant eaves,<br> +The wealthy fly upon his pane,<br> + The happy, happy leaves<br> +<br> +That just abroad his window<br> + Have summer's leave to be,<br> +The earrings of Pizarro<br> + Could not obtain for me.<br> +<br> +I envy light that wakes him,<br> + And bells that boldly ring<br> +To tell him it is noon abroad, —<br> + Myself his noon could bring,<br> +<br> +Yet interdict my blossom<br> + And abrogate my bee,<br> +Lest noon in everlasting night<br> + Drop Gabriel and me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_solemn_thing_it_was_I_said"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +WEDDED.<br> +<br> +A solemn thing it was, I said,<br> + A woman white to be,<br> +And wear, if God should count me fit,<br> + Her hallowed mystery.<br> +<br> +A timid thing to drop a life<br> + Into the purple well,<br> +Too plummetless that it come back<br> + Eternity until.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +III. NATURE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_springtimes_pallid_landscape"></a> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +NATURE'S CHANGES.<br> +<br> +The springtime's pallid landscape<br> + Will glow like bright bouquet,<br> +Though drifted deep in parian<br> + The village lies to-day.<br> +<br> +The lilacs, bending many a year,<br> + With purple load will hang;<br> +The bees will not forget the tune<br> + Their old forefathers sang.<br> +<br> +The rose will redden in the bog,<br> + The aster on the hill<br> +Her everlasting fashion set,<br> + And covenant gentians frill,<br> +<br> +Till summer folds her miracle<br> + As women do their gown,<br> +Or priests adjust the symbols<br> + When sacrament is done.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_slept_beneath_a_tree"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +THE TULIP.<br> +<br> +She slept beneath a tree<br> + Remembered but by me.<br> +I touched her cradle mute;<br> +She recognized the foot,<br> +Put on her carmine suit, —<br> + And see!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_light_exists_in_spring"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +A light exists in spring<br> + Not present on the year<br> +At any other period.<br> + When March is scarcely here<br> +<br> +A color stands abroad<br> + On solitary hills<br> +That science cannot overtake,<br> + But human nature feels.<br> +<br> +It waits upon the lawn;<br> + It shows the furthest tree<br> +Upon the furthest slope we know;<br> + It almost speaks to me.<br> +<br> +Then, as horizons step,<br> + Or noons report away,<br> +Without the formula of sound,<br> + It passes, and we stay:<br> +<br> +A quality of loss<br> + Affecting our content,<br> +As trade had suddenly encroached<br> + Upon a sacrament.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_lady_red_upon_the_hill"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +THE WAKING YEAR.<br> +<br> +A lady red upon the hill<br> + Her annual secret keeps;<br> +A lady white within the field<br> + In placid lily sleeps!<br> +<br> +The tidy breezes with their brooms<br> + Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!<br> +Prithee, my pretty housewives!<br> + Who may expected be?<br> +<br> +The neighbors do not yet suspect!<br> + The woods exchange a smile —<br> +Orchard, and buttercup, and bird —<br> + In such a little while!<br> +<br> +And yet how still the landscape stands,<br> + How nonchalant the wood,<br> +As if the resurrection<br> + Were nothing very odd!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Dear_March_come_in"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +TO MARCH.<br> +<br> +Dear March, come in!<br> +How glad I am!<br> +I looked for you before.<br> +Put down your hat —<br> +You must have walked —<br> +How out of breath you are!<br> +Dear March, how are you?<br> +And the rest?<br> +Did you leave Nature well?<br> +Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,<br> +I have so much to tell!<br> +<br> +I got your letter, and the birds';<br> +The maples never knew<br> +That you were coming, — I declare,<br> +How red their faces grew!<br> +But, March, forgive me —<br> +And all those hills<br> +You left for me to hue;<br> +There was no purple suitable,<br> +You took it all with you.<br> +<br> +Who knocks? That April!<br> +Lock the door!<br> +I will not be pursued!<br> +He stayed away a year, to call<br> +When I am occupied.<br> +But trifles look so trivial<br> +As soon as you have come,<br> +That blame is just as dear as praise<br> +And praise as mere as blame.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_like_March_his_shoes_are_purple"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +MARCH.<br> +<br> +We like March, his shoes are purple,<br> + He is new and high;<br> +Makes he mud for dog and peddler,<br> + Makes he forest dry;<br> +Knows the adder's tongue his coming,<br> + And begets her spot.<br> +Stands the sun so close and mighty<br> + That our minds are hot.<br> +News is he of all the others;<br> + Bold it were to die<br> +With the blue-birds buccaneering<br> + On his British sky.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Not_knowing_when_the_dawn_will_come"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +DAWN.<br> +<br> +Not knowing when the dawn will come<br> + I open every door;<br> +Or has it feathers like a bird,<br> + Or billows like a shore?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_murmur_in_the_trees_to_note"></a> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +A murmur in the trees to note,<br> + Not loud enough for wind;<br> +A star not far enough to seek,<br> + Nor near enough to find;<br> +<br> +A long, long yellow on the lawn,<br> + A hubbub as of feet;<br> +Not audible, as ours to us,<br> + But dapperer, more sweet;<br> +<br> +A hurrying home of little men<br> + To houses unperceived, —<br> +All this, and more, if I should tell,<br> + Would never be believed.<br> +<br> +Of robins in the trundle bed<br> + How many I espy<br> +Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings,<br> + Although I heard them try!<br> +<br> +But then I promised ne'er to tell;<br> + How could I break my word?<br> +So go your way and I'll go mine, —<br> + No fear you'll miss the road.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Morning_is_the_place_for_dew"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +Morning is the place for dew,<br> + Corn is made at noon,<br> +After dinner light for flowers,<br> + Dukes for setting sun!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_my_quick_ear_the_leaves_conferred"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +To my quick ear the leaves conferred;<br> + The bushes they were bells;<br> +I could not find a privacy<br> + From Nature's sentinels.<br> +<br> +In cave if I presumed to hide,<br> + The walls began to tell;<br> +Creation seemed a mighty crack<br> + To make me visible.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_sepal_petal_and_a_thorn"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +A ROSE.<br> +<br> +A sepal, petal, and a thorn<br> + Upon a common summer's morn,<br> +A flash of dew, a bee or two,<br> +A breeze<br> +A caper in the trees, —<br> + And I'm a rose!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="High_from_the_earth_I_heard_a_bird"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +High from the earth I heard a bird;<br> + He trod upon the trees<br> +As he esteemed them trifles,<br> + And then he spied a breeze,<br> +And situated softly<br> + Upon a pile of wind<br> +Which in a perturbation<br> + Nature had left behind.<br> +A joyous-going fellow<br> + I gathered from his talk,<br> +Which both of benediction<br> + And badinage partook,<br> +Without apparent burden,<br> + I learned, in leafy wood<br> +He was the faithful father<br> + Of a dependent brood;<br> +And this untoward transport<br> + His remedy for care, —<br> +A contrast to our respites.<br> + How different we are!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_spider_as_an_artist"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +COBWEBS.<br> +<br> +The spider as an artist<br> + Has never been employed<br> +Though his surpassing merit<br> + Is freely certified<br> +<br> +By every broom and Bridget<br> + Throughout a Christian land.<br> +Neglected son of genius,<br> + I take thee by the hand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="What_mystery_pervades_a_well"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +A WELL.<br> +<br> +What mystery pervades a well!<br> + The water lives so far,<br> +Like neighbor from another world<br> + Residing in a jar.<br> +<br> +The grass does not appear afraid;<br> + I often wonder he<br> +Can stand so close and look so bold<br> + At what is dread to me.<br> +<br> +Related somehow they may be, —<br> + The sedge stands next the sea,<br> +Where he is floorless, yet of fear<br> + No evidence gives he.<br> +<br> +But nature is a stranger yet;<br> + The ones that cite her most<br> +Have never passed her haunted house,<br> + Nor simplified her ghost.<br> +<br> +To pity those that know her not<br> + Is helped by the regret<br> +That those who know her, know her less<br> + The nearer her they get.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="To_make_a_prairie_it_takes_a_clover_and_one_bee"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, —<br> +One clover, and a bee,<br> +And revery.<br> +The revery alone will do<br> +If bees are few.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Its_like_the_light"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +THE WIND.<br> +<br> +It's like the light, —<br> + A fashionless delight<br> +It's like the bee, —<br> + A dateless melody.<br> +<br> +It's like the woods,<br> + Private like breeze,<br> +Phraseless, yet it stirs<br> + The proudest trees.<br> +<br> +It's like the morning, —<br> + Best when it's done, —<br> +The everlasting clocks<br> + Chime noon.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_dew_sufficed_itself"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +A dew sufficed itself<br> + And satisfied a leaf,<br> +And felt, 'how vast a destiny!<br> + How trivial is life!'<br> +<br> +The sun went out to work,<br> + The day went out to play,<br> +But not again that dew was seen<br> + By physiognomy.<br> +<br> +Whether by day abducted,<br> + Or emptied by the sun<br> +Into the sea, in passing,<br> + Eternally unknown.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="His_bill_an_auger_is"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +THE WOODPECKER.<br> +<br> +His bill an auger is,<br> + His head, a cap and frill.<br> +He laboreth at every tree, —<br> + A worm his utmost goal.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Sweet_is_the_swamp_with_its_secrets"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +A SNAKE.<br> +<br> +Sweet is the swamp with its secrets,<br> + Until we meet a snake;<br> +'T is then we sigh for houses,<br> + And our departure take<br> +At that enthralling gallop<br> + That only childhood knows.<br> +A snake is summer's treason,<br> + And guile is where it goes.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Could_I_but_ride_indefinite"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +Could I but ride indefinite,<br> + As doth the meadow-bee,<br> +And visit only where I liked,<br> + And no man visit me,<br> +<br> +And flirt all day with buttercups,<br> + And marry whom I may,<br> +And dwell a little everywhere,<br> + Or better, run away<br> +<br> +With no police to follow,<br> + Or chase me if I do,<br> +Till I should jump peninsulas<br> + To get away from you, —<br> +<br> +I said, but just to be a bee<br> + Upon a raft of air,<br> +And row in nowhere all day long,<br> + And anchor off the bar,—<br> +What liberty! So captives deem<br> + Who tight in dungeons are.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_moon_was_but_a_chin_of_gold"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +THE MOON.<br> +<br> +The moon was but a chin of gold<br> + A night or two ago,<br> +And now she turns her perfect face<br> + Upon the world below.<br> +<br> +Her forehead is of amplest blond;<br> + Her cheek like beryl stone;<br> +Her eye unto the summer dew<br> + The likest I have known.<br> +<br> +Her lips of amber never part;<br> + But what must be the smile<br> +Upon her friend she could bestow<br> + Were such her silver will!<br> +<br> +And what a privilege to be<br> + But the remotest star!<br> +For certainly her way might pass<br> + Beside your twinkling door.<br> +<br> +Her bonnet is the firmament,<br> + The universe her shoe,<br> +The stars the trinkets at her belt,<br> + Her dimities of blue.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_bat_is_dun_with_wrinkled_wings"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +THE BAT.<br> +<br> +The bat is dun with wrinkled wings<br> + Like fallow article,<br> +And not a song pervades his lips,<br> + Or none perceptible.<br> +<br> +His small umbrella, quaintly halved,<br> + Describing in the air<br> +An arc alike inscrutable, —<br> + Elate philosopher!<br> +<br> +Deputed from what firmament<br> + Of what astute abode,<br> +Empowered with what malevolence<br> + Auspiciously withheld.<br> +<br> +To his adroit Creator<br> + Ascribe no less the praise;<br> +Beneficent, believe me,<br> + His eccentricities.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Youve_seen_balloons_set_haven't_you"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +THE BALLOON.<br> +<br> +You've seen balloons set, haven't you?<br> + So stately they ascend<br> +It is as swans discarded you<br> + For duties diamond.<br> +<br> +Their liquid feet go softly out<br> + Upon a sea of blond;<br> +They spurn the air as 't were too mean<br> + For creatures so renowned.<br> +<br> +Their ribbons just beyond the eye,<br> + They struggle some for breath,<br> +And yet the crowd applauds below;<br> + They would not encore death.<br> +<br> +The gilded creature strains and spins,<br> + Trips frantic in a tree,<br> +Tears open her imperial veins<br> + And tumbles in the sea.<br> +<br> +The crowd retire with an oath<br> + The dust in streets goes down,<br> +And clerks in counting-rooms observe,<br> + ''T was only a balloon.'<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_cricket_sang"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +EVENING.<br> +<br> +The cricket sang,<br> +And set the sun,<br> +And workmen finished, one by one,<br> + Their seam the day upon.<br> +<br> +The low grass loaded with the dew,<br> +The twilight stood as strangers do<br> +With hat in hand, polite and new,<br> + To stay as if, or go.<br> +<br> +A vastness, as a neighbor, came, —<br> +A wisdom without face or name,<br> +A peace, as hemispheres at home, —<br> + And so the night became.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Drab_habitation_of_whom"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +COCOON.<br> +<br> +Drab habitation of whom?<br> +Tabernacle or tomb,<br> +Or dome of worm,<br> +Or porch of gnome,<br> +Or some elf's catacomb?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_sloop_of_amber_slips_away"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +SUNSET.<br> +<br> +A sloop of amber slips away<br> + Upon an ether sea,<br> +And wrecks in peace a purple tar,<br> + The son of ecstasy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Of_bronze_and_blaze"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +AURORA.<br> +<br> +Of bronze and blaze<br> + The north, to-night!<br> + So adequate its forms,<br> +So preconcerted with itself,<br> + So distant to alarms, —<br> +An unconcern so sovereign<br> + To universe, or me,<br> +It paints my simple spirit<br> + With tints of majesty,<br> +Till I take vaster attitudes,<br> + And strut upon my stem,<br> +Disdaining men and oxygen,<br> + For arrogance of them.<br> +<br> +My splendors are menagerie;<br> + But their competeless show<br> +Will entertain the centuries<br> + When I am, long ago,<br> +An island in dishonored grass,<br> + Whom none but daisies know.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="How_the_old_mountains_drip_with_sunset"></a> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +THE COMING OF NIGHT.<br> +<br> +How the old mountains drip with sunset,<br> + And the brake of dun!<br> +How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel<br> + By the wizard sun!<br> +<br> +How the old steeples hand the scarlet,<br> + Till the ball is full, —<br> +Have I the lip of the flamingo<br> + That I dare to tell?<br> +<br> +Then, how the fire ebbs like billows,<br> + Touching all the grass<br> +With a departing, sapphire feature,<br> + As if a duchess pass!<br> +<br> +How a small dusk crawls on the village<br> + Till the houses blot;<br> +And the odd flambeaux no men carry<br> + Glimmer on the spot!<br> +<br> +Now it is night in nest and kennel,<br> + And where was the wood,<br> +Just a dome of abyss is nodding<br> + Into solitude! —<br> +<br> +These are the visions baffled Guido;<br> + Titian never told;<br> +Domenichino dropped the pencil,<br> + Powerless to unfold.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_murmuring_of_bees_has_ceased"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +AFTERMATH.<br> +<br> +The murmuring of bees has ceased;<br> + But murmuring of some<br> +Posterior, prophetic,<br> + Has simultaneous come, —<br> +<br> +The lower metres of the year,<br> + When nature's laugh is done, —<br> +The Revelations of the book<br> + Whose Genesis is June.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="This_world_is_not_conclusion"></a> +<br> +<br> +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +I.<br> +<br> +This world is not conclusion;<br> + A sequel stands beyond,<br> +Invisible, as music,<br> + But positive, as sound.<br> +It beckons and it baffles;<br> + Philosophies don't know,<br> +And through a riddle, at the last,<br> + Sagacity must go.<br> +To guess it puzzles scholars;<br> + To gain it, men have shown<br> +Contempt of generations,<br> + And crucifixion known.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_learn_in_the_retreating"></a> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +We learn in the retreating<br> + How vast an one<br> +Was recently among us.<br> + A perished sun<br> +<br> +Endears in the departure<br> + How doubly more<br> +Than all the golden presence<br> + It was before!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="They_say_that_time_assuages"></a> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +They say that 'time assuages,' —<br> + Time never did assuage;<br> +An actual suffering strengthens,<br> + As sinews do, with age.<br> +<br> +Time is a test of trouble,<br> + But not a remedy.<br> +If such it prove, it prove too<br> + There was no malady.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_cover_thee_sweet_face"></a> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +We cover thee, sweet face.<br> + Not that we tire of thee,<br> +But that thyself fatigue of us;<br> + Remember, as thou flee,<br> +We follow thee until<br> + Thou notice us no more,<br> +And then, reluctant, turn away<br> + To con thee o'er and o'er,<br> +And blame the scanty love<br> + We were content to show,<br> +Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold<br> + If thou would'st take it now.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="That_is_solemn_we_have_ended"></a> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +ENDING.<br> +<br> +That is solemn we have ended, —<br> + Be it but a play,<br> +Or a glee among the garrets,<br> + Or a holiday,<br> +<br> +Or a leaving home; or later,<br> + Parting with a world<br> +We have understood, for better<br> + Still it be unfurled.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_stimulus_beyond_the_grave"></a> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +The stimulus, beyond the grave<br> + His countenance to see,<br> +Supports me like imperial drams<br> + Afforded royally.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Given_in_marriage_unto_thee"></a> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +Given in marriage unto thee,<br> + Oh, thou celestial host!<br> +Bride of the Father and the Son,<br> + Bride of the Holy Ghost!<br> +<br> +Other betrothal shall dissolve,<br> + Wedlock of will decay;<br> +Only the keeper of this seal<br> + Conquers mortality.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="That_such_have_died_enables_us"></a> +<br> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +That such have died enables us<br> + The tranquiller to die;<br> +That such have lived, certificate<br> + For immortality.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="They_wont_frown_always_some_sweet_day"></a> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +They won't frown always, — some sweet day<br> + When I forget to tease,<br> +They'll recollect how cold I looked,<br> + And how I just said 'please.'<br> +<br> +Then they will hasten to the door<br> + To call the little child,<br> +Who cannot thank them, for the ice<br> + That on her lisping piled.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_is_an_honorable_thought"></a> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +IMMORTALITY.<br> +<br> +It is an honorable thought,<br> + And makes one lift one's hat,<br> +As one encountered gentlefolk<br> + Upon a daily street,<br> +<br> +That we've immortal place,<br> + Though pyramids decay,<br> +And kingdoms, like the orchard,<br> + Flit russetly away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_distance_that_the_dead_have_gone"></a> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +The distance that the dead have gone<br> + Does not at first appear;<br> +Their coming back seems possible<br> + For many an ardent year.<br> +<br> +And then, that we have followed them<br> + We more than half suspect,<br> +So intimate have we become<br> + With their dear retrospect.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="How_dare_the_robins_sing"></a> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +How dare the robins sing,<br> + When men and women hear<br> +Who since they went to their account<br> + Have settled with the year! —<br> +Paid all that life had earned<br> + In one consummate bill,<br> +And now, what life or death can do<br> + Is immaterial.<br> +Insulting is the sun<br> + To him whose mortal light,<br> +Beguiled of immortality,<br> + Bequeaths him to the night.<br> +In deference to him<br> + Extinct be every hum,<br> +Whose garden wrestles with the dew,<br> + At daybreak overcome!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Death_is_like_the_insect"></a> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Death is like the insect<br> + Menacing the tree,<br> +Competent to kill it,<br> + But decoyed may be.<br> +<br> +Bait it with the balsam,<br> + Seek it with the knife,<br> +Baffle, if it cost you<br> + Everything in life.<br> +<br> +Then, if it have burrowed<br> + Out of reach of skill,<br> +Ring the tree and leave it, —<br> + 'T is the vermin's will.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_is_sunrise_little_maid_hast_thou"></a> +<br> +XIV.<br> +<br> +UNWARNED.<br> +<br> +'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou<br> + No station in the day?<br> +'T was not thy wont to hinder so, —<br> + Retrieve thine industry.<br> +<br> +'T is noon, my little maid, alas!<br> + And art thou sleeping yet?<br> +The lily waiting to be wed,<br> + The bee, dost thou forget?<br> +<br> +My little maid, 't is night; alas,<br> + That night should be to thee<br> +Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached<br> + Thy little plan to me,<br> +Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,<br> + I might have aided thee.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Each_that_we_lose_takes_part_of_us"></a> +<br> +XV.<br> +<br> +Each that we lose takes part of us;<br> + A crescent still abides,<br> +Which like the moon, some turbid night,<br> + Is summoned by the tides.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Not_any_higher_stands_the_grave"></a> +<br> +XVI.<br> +<br> +Not any higher stands the grave<br> + For heroes than for men;<br> +Not any nearer for the child<br> + Than numb three-score and ten.<br> +<br> +This latest leisure equal lulls<br> + The beggar and his queen;<br> +Propitiate this democrat<br> + By summer's gracious mien.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="As_far_from_pity_as_complaint"></a> +<br> +XVII.<br> +<br> +ASLEEP.<br> +<br> +As far from pity as complaint,<br> + As cool to speech as stone,<br> +As numb to revelation<br> + As if my trade were bone.<br> +<br> +As far from time as history,<br> + As near yourself to-day<br> +As children to the rainbow's scarf,<br> + Or sunset's yellow play<br> +<br> +To eyelids in the sepulchre.<br> + How still the dancer lies,<br> +While color's revelations break,<br> + And blaze the butterflies!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_is_whiter_than_an_Indian_pipe"></a> +<br> +XVIII.<br> +<br> +THE SPIRIT.<br> +<br> +'T is whiter than an Indian pipe,<br> + 'T is dimmer than a lace;<br> +No stature has it, like a fog,<br> + When you approach the place.<br> +<br> +Not any voice denotes it here,<br> + Or intimates it there;<br> +A spirit, how doth it accost?<br> + What customs hath the air?<br> +<br> +This limitless hyperbole<br> + Each one of us shall be;<br> +'T is drama, if (hypothesis)<br> + It be not tragedy!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="She_laid_her_docile_crescent_down"></a> +<br> +XIX.<br> +<br> +THE MONUMENT.<br> +<br> +She laid her docile crescent down,<br> + And this mechanic stone<br> +Still states, to dates that have forgot,<br> + The news that she is gone.<br> +<br> +So constant to its stolid trust,<br> + The shaft that never knew,<br> +It shames the constancy that fled<br> + Before its emblem flew.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Bless_God_he_went_as_soldiers"></a> +<br> +XX.<br> +<br> +Bless God, he went as soldiers,<br> + His musket on his breast;<br> +Grant, God, he charge the bravest<br> + Of all the martial blest.<br> +<br> +Please God, might I behold him<br> + In epauletted white,<br> +I should not fear the foe then,<br> + I should not fear the fight.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Immortal_is_an_ample_word"></a> +<br> +XXI.<br> +<br> +Immortal is an ample word<br> + When what we need is by,<br> +But when it leaves us for a time,<br> + 'T is a necessity.<br> +<br> +Of heaven above the firmest proof<br> + We fundamental know,<br> +Except for its marauding hand,<br> + It had been heaven below.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Where_every_bird_is_bold_to_go"></a> +<br> +XXII.<br> +<br> +Where every bird is bold to go,<br> + And bees abashless play,<br> +The foreigner before he knocks<br> + Must thrust the tears away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_grave_my_little_cottage_is"></a> +<br> +XXIII.<br> +<br> +The grave my little cottage is,<br> + Where, keeping house for thee,<br> +I make my parlor orderly,<br> + And lay the marble tea,<br> +<br> +For two divided, briefly,<br> + A cycle, it may be,<br> +Till everlasting life unite<br> + In strong society.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="This_was_in_the_white_of_the_year"></a> +<br> +XXIV.<br> +<br> +This was in the white of the year,<br> + That was in the green,<br> +Drifts were as difficult then to think<br> + As daisies now to be seen.<br> +<br> +Looking back is best that is left,<br> + Or if it be before,<br> +Retrospection is prospect's half,<br> + Sometimes almost more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Sweet_hours_have_perished_here"></a> +<br> +XXV.<br> +<br> +Sweet hours have perished here;<br> + This is a mighty room;<br> +Within its precincts hopes have played, —<br> + Now shadows in the tomb.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Me_Come_My_dazzled_face"></a> +<br> +XXVI.<br> +<br> +Me! Come! My dazzled face<br> +In such a shining place!<br> +<br> +Me! Hear! My foreign ear<br> +The sounds of welcome near!<br> +<br> +The saints shall meet<br> +Our bashful feet.<br> +<br> +My holiday shall be<br> +That they remember me;<br> +<br> +My paradise, the fame<br> +That they pronounce my name.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="From_us_she_wandered_now_a_year"></a> +<br> +XXVII.<br> +<br> +INVISIBLE.<br> +<br> +From us she wandered now a year,<br> + Her tarrying unknown;<br> +If wilderness prevent her feet,<br> + Or that ethereal zone<br> +<br> +No eye hath seen and lived,<br> + We ignorant must be.<br> +We only know what time of year<br> + We took the mystery.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_wish_I_knew_that_womans_name"></a> +<br> +<br> +XXVIII.<br> +<br> +I wish I knew that woman's name,<br> + So, when she comes this way,<br> +To hold my life, and hold my ears,<br> + For fear I hear her say<br> +<br> +She's 'sorry I am dead,' again,<br> + Just when the grave and I<br> +Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, —<br> + Our only lullaby.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Bereaved_of_all_I_went_abroad"></a> +<br> +XXIX.<br> +<br> +TRYING TO FORGET.<br> +<br> +Bereaved of all, I went abroad,<br> + No less bereaved to be<br> +Upon a new peninsula, —<br> + The grave preceded me,<br> +<br> +Obtained my lodgings ere myself,<br> + And when I sought my bed,<br> +The grave it was, reposed upon<br> + The pillow for my head.<br> +<br> +I waked, to find it first awake,<br> + I rose, — it followed me;<br> +I tried to drop it in the crowd,<br> + To lose it in the sea,<br> +<br> +In cups of artificial drowse<br> + To sleep its shape away, —<br> +The grave was finished, but the spade<br> + Remained in memory.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_felt_a_funeral_in_my_brain"></a> +<br> +XXX.<br> +<br> +I felt a funeral in my brain,<br> + And mourners, to and fro,<br> +Kept treading, treading, till it seemed<br> + That sense was breaking through.<br> +<br> +And when they all were seated,<br> + A service like a drum<br> +Kept beating, beating, till I thought<br> + My mind was going numb.<br> +<br> +And then I heard them lift a box,<br> + And creak across my soul<br> +With those same boots of lead, again.<br> + Then space began to toll<br> +<br> +As all the heavens were a bell,<br> + And Being but an ear,<br> +And I and silence some strange race,<br> + Wrecked, solitary, here.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_meant_to_find_her_when_I_came"></a> +<br> +XXXI.<br> +<br> +I meant to find her when I came;<br> + Death had the same design;<br> +But the success was his, it seems,<br> + And the discomfit mine.<br> +<br> +I meant to tell her how I longed<br> + For just this single time;<br> +But Death had told her so the first,<br> + And she had hearkened him.<br> +<br> +To wander now is my abode;<br> + To rest, — to rest would be<br> +A privilege of hurricane<br> + To memory and me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_sing_to_use_the_waiting"></a> +<br> +XXXII.<br> +<br> +WAITING.<br> +<br> +I sing to use the waiting,<br> + My bonnet but to tie,<br> +And shut the door unto my house;<br> + No more to do have I,<br> +<br> +Till, his best step approaching,<br> + We journey to the day,<br> +And tell each other how we sang<br> + To keep the dark away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_sickness_of_this_world_it_most_occasions"></a> +<br> +XXXIII.<br> +<br> +A sickness of this world it most occasions<br> + When best men die;<br> +A wishfulness their far condition<br> + To occupy.<br> +<br> +A chief indifference, as foreign<br> + A world must be<br> +Themselves forsake contented,<br> + For Deity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Superfluous_were_the_sun"></a> +<br> +XXXIV.<br> +<br> +Superfluous were the sun<br> + When excellence is dead;<br> +He were superfluous every day,<br> + For every day is said<br> +<br> +That syllable whose faith<br> + Just saves it from despair,<br> +And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates<br> + If love inquire, 'Where?'<br> +<br> +Upon his dateless fame<br> + Our periods may lie,<br> +As stars that drop anonymous<br> + From an abundant sky.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="So_proud_she_was_to_die"></a> +<br> +XXXV.<br> +<br> +So proud she was to die<br> + It made us all ashamed<br> +That what we cherished, so unknown<br> + To her desire seemed.<br> +<br> +So satisfied to go<br> + Where none of us should be,<br> +Immediately, that anguish stooped<br> + Almost to jealousy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Tie_the_strings_to_my_life_my_Lord,"></a> +<br> +XXXVI.<br> +<br> +FAREWELL.<br> +<br> +Tie the strings to my life, my Lord,<br> + Then I am ready to go!<br> +Just a look at the horses —<br> + Rapid! That will do!<br> +<br> +Put me in on the firmest side,<br> + So I shall never fall;<br> +For we must ride to the Judgment,<br> + And it's partly down hill.<br> +<br> +But never I mind the bridges,<br> + And never I mind the sea;<br> +Held fast in everlasting race<br> + By my own choice and thee.<br> +<br> +Good-by to the life I used to live,<br> + And the world I used to know;<br> +And kiss the hills for me, just once;<br> + Now I am ready to go!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_dying_need_but_little_dear"></a> +<br> +XXXVII.<br> +<br> +The dying need but little, dear, —<br> + A glass of water's all,<br> +A flower's unobtrusive face<br> + To punctuate the wall,<br> +<br> +A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,<br> + And certainly that one<br> +No color in the rainbow<br> + Perceives when you are gone.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Theres_something_quieter_than_sleep"></a> +<br> +XXXVIII.<br> +<br> +DEAD.<br> +<br> +There's something quieter than sleep<br> + Within this inner room!<br> +It wears a sprig upon its breast,<br> + And will not tell its name.<br> +<br> +Some touch it and some kiss it,<br> + Some chafe its idle hand;<br> +It has a simple gravity<br> + I do not understand!<br> +<br> +While simple-hearted neighbors<br> + Chat of the 'early dead,'<br> +We, prone to periphrasis,<br> + Remark that birds have fled!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="The_soul_should_always_stand_ajar"></a> +<br> +XXXIX.<br> +<br> +The soul should always stand ajar,<br> + That if the heaven inquire,<br> +He will not be obliged to wait,<br> + Or shy of troubling her.<br> +<br> +Depart, before the host has slid<br> + The bolt upon the door,<br> +To seek for the accomplished guest, —<br> + Her visitor no more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Three_weeks_passed_since_I_had_seen_her"></a> +<br> +XL.<br> +<br> +Three weeks passed since I had seen her, —<br> + Some disease had vexed;<br> +'T was with text and village singing<br> + I beheld her next,<br> +<br> +And a company — our pleasure<br> + To discourse alone;<br> +Gracious now to me as any,<br> + Gracious unto none.<br> +<br> +Borne, without dissent of either,<br> + To the parish night;<br> +Of the separated people<br> + Which are out of sight?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_breathed_enough_to_learn_the_trick"></a> +<br> +XLI.<br> +<br> +I breathed enough to learn the trick,<br> + And now, removed from air,<br> +I simulate the breath so well,<br> + That one, to be quite sure<br> +<br> +The lungs are stirless, must descend<br> + Among the cunning cells,<br> +And touch the pantomime himself.<br> + How cool the bellows feels!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_wonder_if_the_sepulchre"></a> +<br> +XLII.<br> +<br> +I wonder if the sepulchre<br> + Is not a lonesome way,<br> +When men and boys, and larks and June<br> + Go down the fields to hay!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_tolling_bell_I_ask_the_cause"></a> +<br> +XLIII.<br> +<br> +JOY IN DEATH.<br> +<br> +If tolling bell I ask the cause.<br> + 'A soul has gone to God,'<br> +I'm answered in a lonesome tone;<br> + Is heaven then so sad?<br> +<br> +That bells should joyful ring to tell<br> + A soul had gone to heaven,<br> +Would seem to me the proper way<br> + A good news should be given.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="If_I_may_have_it_when_its_dead"></a> +<br> +XLIV.<br> +<br> +If I may have it when it's dead<br> + I will contented be;<br> +If just as soon as breath is out<br> + It shall belong to me,<br> +<br> +Until they lock it in the grave,<br> + 'T is bliss I cannot weigh,<br> +For though they lock thee in the grave,<br> + Myself can hold the key.<br> +<br> +Think of it, lover! I and thee<br> + Permitted face to face to be;<br> +After a life, a death we'll say, —<br> + For death was that, and this is thee.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Before_the_ice_is_in_the_pools"></a> +<br> +XLV.<br> +<br> +Before the ice is in the pools,<br> + Before the skaters go,<br> +Or any cheek at nightfall<br> + Is tarnished by the snow,<br> +<br> +Before the fields have finished,<br> + Before the Christmas tree,<br> +Wonder upon wonder<br> + Will arrive to me!<br> +<br> +What we touch the hems of<br> + On a summer's day;<br> +What is only walking<br> + Just a bridge away;<br> +<br> +That which sings so, speaks so,<br> + When there's no one here, —<br> +Will the frock I wept in<br> + Answer me to wear?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="I_heard_a_fly_buzz_when_I_died"></a> +<br> +XLVI.<br> +<br> +DYING.<br> +<br> +I heard a fly buzz when I died;<br> + The stillness round my form<br> +Was like the stillness in the air<br> + Between the heaves of storm.<br> +<br> +The eyes beside had wrung them dry,<br> + And breaths were gathering sure<br> +For that last onset, when the king<br> + Be witnessed in his power.<br> +<br> +I willed my keepsakes, signed away<br> + What portion of me I<br> +Could make assignable, — and then<br> + There interposed a fly,<br> +<br> +With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,<br> + Between the light and me;<br> +And then the windows failed, and then<br> + I could not see to see.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Adrift_A_little_boat_adrift"></a> +<br> +XLVII.<br> +<br> +Adrift! A little boat adrift!<br> + And night is coming down!<br> +Will no one guide a little boat<br> + Unto the nearest town?<br> +<br> +So sailors say, on yesterday,<br> + Just as the dusk was brown,<br> +One little boat gave up its strife,<br> + And gurgled down and down.<br> +<br> +But angels say, on yesterday,<br> + Just as the dawn was red,<br> +One little boat o'erspent with gales<br> +Retrimmed its masts, redecked its sails<br> + Exultant, onward sped!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Theres_been_a_death_in_the_opposite_house"></a> +<br> +XLVIII.<br> +<br> +There's been a death in the opposite house<br> + As lately as to-day.<br> +I know it by the numb look<br> + Such houses have alway.<br> +<br> +The neighbors rustle in and out,<br> + The doctor drives away.<br> +A window opens like a pod,<br> + Abrupt, mechanically;<br> +<br> +Somebody flings a mattress out, —<br> + The children hurry by;<br> +They wonder if It died on that, —<br> + I used to when a boy.<br> +<br> +The minister goes stiffly in<br> + As if the house were his,<br> +And he owned all the mourners now,<br> + And little boys besides;<br> +<br> +And then the milliner, and the man<br> + Of the appalling trade,<br> +To take the measure of the house.<br> + There'll be that dark parade<br> +<br> +Of tassels and of coaches soon;<br> + It's easy as a sign, —<br> +The intuition of the news<br> + In just a country town.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_never_know_we_go_when_we_are_going"></a> +<br> +XLIX.<br> +<br> +We never know we go, — when we are going<br> + We jest and shut the door;<br> +Fate following behind us bolts it,<br> + And we accost no more.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="It_struck_me_every_day"></a> +<br> +L.<br> +<br> +THE SOUL'S STORM.<br> +<br> +It struck me every day<br> + The lightning was as new<br> +As if the cloud that instant slit<br> + And let the fire through.<br> +<br> +It burned me in the night,<br> + It blistered in my dream;<br> +It sickened fresh upon my sight<br> + With every morning's beam.<br> +<br> +I thought that storm was brief, —<br> + The maddest, quickest by;<br> +But Nature lost the date of this,<br> + And left it in the sky.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Water_is_taught_by_thirst"></a> +<br> +LI.<br> +<br> +Water is taught by thirst;<br> +Land, by the oceans passed;<br> + Transport, by throe;<br> +Peace, by its battles told;<br> +Love, by memorial mould;<br> + Birds, by the snow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="We_thirst_at_first_t_is_Nature's_act"></a> +<br> +LII.<br> +<br> +THIRST.<br> +<br> +We thirst at first, — 't is Nature's act;<br> + And later, when we die,<br> +A little water supplicate<br> + Of fingers going by.<br> +<br> +It intimates the finer want,<br> + Whose adequate supply<br> +Is that great water in the west<br> + Termed immortality.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_clock_stopped_not_the_mantels"></a> +<br> +LIII.<br> +<br> +A clock stopped — not the mantel's;<br> + Geneva's farthest skill<br> +Can't put the puppet bowing<br> + That just now dangled still.<br> +<br> +An awe came on the trinket!<br> + The figures hunched with pain,<br> +Then quivered out of decimals<br> + Into degreeless noon.<br> +<br> +It will not stir for doctors,<br> + This pendulum of snow;<br> +The shopman importunes it,<br> + While cool, concernless No<br> +<br> +Nods from the gilded pointers,<br> + Nods from the seconds slim,<br> +Decades of arrogance between<br> + The dial life and him.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="All_overgrown_by_cunning_moss"></a> +<br> +LIV.<br> +<br> +CHARLOTTE BRONTË'S GRAVE.<br> +<br> +All overgrown by cunning moss,<br> + All interspersed with weed,<br> +The little cage of 'Currer Bell,'<br> + In quiet Haworth laid.<br> +<br> +This bird, observing others,<br> + When frosts too sharp became,<br> +Retire to other latitudes,<br> + Quietly did the same,<br> +<br> +But differed in returning;<br> + Since Yorkshire hills are green,<br> +Yet not in all the nests I meet<br> + Can nightingale be seen.<br> +<br> +Gathered from many wanderings,<br> + Gethsemane can tell<br> +Through what transporting anguish<br> + She reached the asphodel!<br> +<br> +Soft fall the sounds of Eden<br> + Upon her puzzled ear;<br> +Oh, what an afternoon for heaven,<br> + When 'Brontë' entered there!<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_toad_can_die_of_light"></a> +<br> +LV.<br> +<br> +A toad can die of light!<br> +Death is the common right<br> + Of toads and men, —<br> +Of earl and midge<br> +The privilege.<br> + Why swagger then?<br> +The gnat's supremacy<br> +Is large as thine.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="Far_from_love_the_Heavenly_Father"></a> +<br> +LVI.<br> +<br> +Far from love the Heavenly Father<br> + Leads the chosen child;<br> +Oftener through realm of briar<br> + Than the meadow mild,<br> +<br> +Oftener by the claw of dragon<br> + Than the hand of friend,<br> +Guides the little one predestined<br> + To the native land.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="A_long_long_sleep_a_famous_sleep"></a> +<br> +LVII.<br> +<br> +SLEEPING.<br> +<br> +A long, long sleep, a famous sleep<br> + That makes no show for dawn<br> +By stretch of limb or stir of lid, —<br> + An independent one.<br> +<br> +Was ever idleness like this?<br> + Within a hut of stone<br> +To bask the centuries away<br> + Nor once look up for noon?<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<a name="T_was_just_this_time_last_year_I_died"></a> +<br> +LVIII.<br> +<br> +RETROSPECT.<br> +<br> +'T was just this time last year I died.<br> + I know I heard the corn,<br> +When I was carried by the farms, —<br> + It had the tassels on.<br> +<br> +I thought how yellow it would look<br> + When Richard went to mill;<br> +And then I wanted to get out,<br> + But something held my will.<br> +<br> +I thought just how red apples wedged<br> + The stubble's joints between;<br> +And carts went stooping round the fields<br> + To take the pumpkins in.<br> +<br> +I wondered which would miss me least,<br> + And when Thanksgiving came,<br> +If father'd multiply the plates<br> + To make an even sum.<br> +<br> +And if my stocking hung too high,<br> + Would it blur the Christmas glee,<br> +That not a Santa Claus could reach<br> + The altitude of me?<br> +<br> +But this sort grieved myself, and so<br> + I thought how it would be<br> +When just this time, some perfect year,<br> + Themselves should come to me.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="100" align="left"><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="On_this_wondrous_sea"></a> +LIX.<br> +<br> +ETERNITY.<br> +<br> +On this wondrous sea,<br> +Sailing silently,<br> + Ho! pilot, ho!<br> +Knowest thou the shore<br> +Where no breakers roar,<br> + Where the storm is o'er?<br> +<br> +In the silent west<br> +Many sails at rest,<br> + Their anchors fast;<br> +Thither I pilot thee, —<br> +Land, ho! Eternity!<br> + Ashore at last!<br> +<br> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="Index_of_First_Lines"> </a> +<h2>Index of First Lines</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#A_bird_came_down_the_walk">A bird came down the walk:</a><br> +<a href="#A_charm_invests_a_face">A charm invests a face</a><br> +<a href="#A_clock_stopped_not_the_mantels">A clock stopped — not the mantel's;</a><br> +<a href="#A_death-blow_is_a_life-blow_to_some">A death-blow is a life-blow to some</a><br> +<a href="#A_deed_knocks_first_at_thought">A deed knocks first at thought,</a><br> +<a href="#A_dew_sufficed_itself">A dew sufficed itself</a><br> +<a href="#A_door_just_opened_on_a_street">A door just opened on a street —</a><br> +<a href="#A_drop_fell_on_the_apple_tree">A drop fell on the apple tree,</a><br> +<a href="#A_face_devoid_of_love_or_grace">A face devoid of love or grace,</a><br> +<a href="#A_lady_red_upon_the_hill">A lady red upon the hill</a><br> +<a href="#A_light_exists_in_spring">A light exists in spring</a><br> +<a href="#A_little_road_not_made_of_man">A little road not made of man,</a><br> +<a href="#A_long_long_sleep_a_famous_sleep">A long, long sleep, a famous sleep</a><br> +<a href="#A_modest_lot_a_fame_petite">A modest lot, a fame petite,</a><br> +<a href="#A_murmur_in_the_trees_to_note">A murmur in the trees to note,</a><br> +<a href="#A_narrow_fellow_in_the_grass">A narrow fellow in the grass</a><br> +<a href="#A_poor_torn_heart_a_tattered_heart">A poor torn heart, a tattered heart,</a><br> +<a href="#A_precious_mouldering_pleasure_t_is">A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is</a><br> +<a href="#A_route_of_evanescence">A route of evanescence</a><br> +<a href="#A_sepal_petal_and_a_thorn">A sepal, petal, and a thorn</a><br> +<a href="#A_shady_friend_for_torrid_days">A shady friend for torrid days</a><br> +<a href="#A_sickness_of_this_world_it_most_occasions">A sickness of this world it most occasions</a><br> +<a href="#A_sloop_of_amber_slips_away">A sloop of amber slips away</a><br> +<a href="#A_solemn_thing_it_was_I_said">A solemn thing it was, I said,</a><br> +<a href="#A_something_in_a_summers_day">A something in a summer's day,</a><br> +<a href="#A_spider_sewed_at_night">A spider sewed at night</a><br> +<a href="#A_thought_went_up_my_mind_to-day">A thought went up my mind to-day</a><br> +<a href="#A_throe_upon_the_features">A throe upon the features</a><br> +<a href="#A_toad_can_die_of_light">A toad can die of light!</a><br> +<a href="#A_word_is_dead">A word is dead</a><br> +<a href="#A_wounded_deer_leaps_highest">A wounded deer leaps highest,</a><br> +<a href="#Adrift_A_little_boat_adrift">Adrift! A little boat adrift!</a><br> +<a href="#Afraid_Of_whom_am_I_afraid">Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?</a><br> +<a href="#After_a_hundred_years">After a hundred years</a><br> +<a href="#All_overgrown_by_cunning_moss">All overgrown by cunning moss,</a><br> +<a href="#Alter_When_the_hills_do">Alter? When the hills do.</a><br> +<a href="#Ample_make_this_bed">Ample make this bed.</a><br> +<a href="#An_altered_look_about_the_hills">An altered look about the hills;</a><br> +<a href="#An_awful_tempest_mashed_the_air">An awful tempest mashed the air,</a><br> +<a href="#An_everywhere_of_silver">An everywhere of silver,</a><br> +<a href="#Angels_in_the_early_morning">Angels in the early morning</a><br> +<a href="#Apparently_with_no_surprise">Apparently with no surprise</a><br> +<a href="#Arcturus_is_his_other_name">Arcturus is his other name, —</a><br> +<a href="#Are_friends_delight_or_pain">Are friends delight or pain?</a><br> +<a href="#As_by_the_dead_we_love_to_sit">As by the dead we love to sit,</a><br> +<a href="#As_children_bid_the_guest_good-night">As children bid the guest good-night,</a><br> +<a href="#As_far_from_pity_as_complaint">As far from pity as complaint,</a><br> +<a href="#As_if_some_little_Arctic_flower">As if some little Arctic flower,</a><br> +<a href="#As_imperceptibly_as_grief">As imperceptibly as grief</a><br> +<a href="#Ashes_denote_that_fire_was">Ashes denote that fire was;</a><br> +<a href="#At_half-past_three_a_single_bird">At half-past three a single bird</a><br> +<a href="#At_last_to_be_identified">At last to be identified!</a><br> +<a href="#At_least_to_pray_is_left_is_left">At least to pray is left, is left.</a><br> +<a href="#Because_I_could_not_stop_for_Death">Because I could not stop for Death,</a><br> +<a href="#Before_I_got_my_eye_put_out">Before I got my eye put out,</a><br> +<a href="#Before_the_ice_is_in_the_pools">Before the ice is in the pools,</a><br> +<a href="#Before_you_thought_of_spring">Before you thought of spring,</a><br> +<a href="#Belshazzar_had_a_letter">Belshazzar had a letter, —</a><br> +<a href="#Bereaved_of_all_I_went_abroad">Bereaved of all, I went abroad,</a><br> +<a href="#Besides_the_autumn_poets_sing">Besides the autumn poets sing,</a><br> +<a href="#Blazing_in_gold_and_quenching_in_purple">Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,</a><br> +<a href="#Bless_God_he_went_as_soldiers">Bless God, he went as soldiers,</a><br> +<a href="#Bring_me_the_sunset_in_a_cup">Bring me the sunset in a cup,</a><br> +<a href="#Come_slowly_Eden">Come slowly, Eden!</a><br> +<a href="#Could_I_but_ride_indefinite">Could I but ride indefinite,</a><br> +<a href="#Could_mortal_lip_divine">Could mortal lip divine</a><br> +<a href="#Dare_you_see_a_soul_at_the_white_heat">Dare you see a soul at the white heat?</a><br> +<a href="#Dear_March_come_in">Dear March, come in!</a><br> +<a href="#Death_is_a_dialogue_between">Death is a dialogue between</a><br> +<a href="#Death_is_like_the_insect">Death is like the insect</a><br> +<a href="#Death_sets_a_thing_significant">Death sets a thing significant</a><br> +<a href="#Delayed_till_she_had_ceased_to_know">Delayed till she had ceased to know,</a><br> +<a href="#Delight_becomes_pictorial">Delight becomes pictorial</a><br> +<a href="#Departed_to_the_judgment">Departed to the judgment,</a><br> +<a href="#Did_the_harebell_loose_her_girdle">Did the harebell loose her girdle</a><br> +<a href="#Doubt_me_my_dim_companion">Doubt me, my dim companion!</a><br> +<a href="#Drab_habitation_of_whom">Drab habitation of whom?</a><br> +<a href="#Drowning_is_not_so_pitiful">Drowning is not so pitiful</a><br> +<a href="#Each_life_converges_to_some_centre">Each life converges to some centre</a><br> +<a href="#Each_that_we_lose_takes_part_of_us">Each that we lose takes part of us;</a><br> +<a href="#Elysium_is_as_far_as_to">Elysium is as far as to</a><br> +<a href="#Essential_oils_are_wrung:">Essential oils are wrung:</a><br> +<a href="#Except_the_heaven_had_come_so_near">Except the heaven had come so near,</a><br> +<a href="#Except_to_heaven_she_is_nought">Except to heaven, she is nought;</a><br> +<a href="#Experiment_to_me">Experiment to me</a><br> +<a href="#Exultation_is_the_going">Exultation is the going</a><br> +<a href="#Far_from_love_the_Heavenly_Father">Far from love the Heavenly Father</a><br> +<a href="#Farther_in_summer_than_the_birds">Farther in summer than the birds,</a><br> +<a href="#Fate_slew_him_but_he_did_not_drop">Fate slew him, but he did not drop;</a><br> +<a href="#Father_I_bring_thee_not_myself">Father, I bring thee not myself, —</a><br> +<a href="#Few_get_enough_enough_is_one">Few get enough, — enough is one;</a><br> +<a href="#Finite_to_fail_but_infinite_to_venture">Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.</a><br> +<a href="#For_each_ecstatic_instant">For each ecstatic instant</a><br> +<a href="#Forbidden_fruit_a_flavor_has">Forbidden fruit a flavor has</a><br> +<a href="#Frequently_the_woods_are_pink">Frequently the woods are pink,</a><br> +<a href="#From_all_the_jails_the_boys_and_girls">From all the jails the boys and girls</a><br> +<a href="#From_cocoon_forth_a_butterfly">From cocoon forth a butterfly</a><br> +<a href="#From_us_she_wandered_now_a_year">From us she wandered now a year,</a><br> +<a href="#Given_in_marriage_unto_thee">Given in marriage unto thee,</a><br> +<a href="#Glee_The_great_storm_is_over">Glee! The great storm is over!</a><br> +<a href="#God_gave_a_loaf_to_every_bird">God gave a loaf to every bird,</a><br> +<a href="#God_made_a_little_gentian">God made a little gentian;</a><br> +<a href="#God_permits_industrious_angels">God permits industrious angels</a><br> +<a href="#Going_to_heaven">Going to heaven!</a><br> +<a href="#Going_to_him_Happy_letter_Tell_him">"Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him —</a><br> +<a href="#Good_night_which_put_the_candle_out">Good night! which put the candle out?</a><br> +<a href="#Great_streets_of_silence_led_away">Great streets of silence led away</a><br> +<a href="#Have_you_got_a_brook_in_your_little_heart">Have you got a brook in your little heart,</a><br> +<a href="#He_ate_and_drank_the_precious_words">He ate and drank the precious words,</a><br> +<a href="#He_fumbles_at_your_spirit">He fumbles at your spirit</a><br> +<a href="#He_preached_upon_breadth_till_it_argued_him_narrow">He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, —</a><br> +<a href="#He_put_the_belt_around_my_life">He put the belt around my life, —</a><br> +<a href="#He_touched_me_so_I_live_to_know">He touched me, so I live to know</a><br> +<a href="#Heart_not_so_heavy_as_mine">Heart not so heavy as mine,</a><br> +<a href="#Heart_we_will_forget_him">Heart, we will forget him!</a><br> +<a href="#Heaven_is_what_I_cannot_reach">Heaven is what I cannot reach!</a><br> +<a href="#Her_final_summer_was_it">Her final summer was it,</a><br> +<a href="#High_from_the_earth_I_heard_a_bird">High from the earth I heard a bird;</a><br> +<a href="#His_bill_an_auger_is">His bill an auger is,</a><br> +<a href="#Hope_is_a_subtle_glutton">Hope is a subtle glutton;</a><br> +<a href="#Hope_is_the_thing_with_feathers">Hope is the thing with feathers</a><br> +<a href="#How_dare_the_robins_sing">How dare the robins sing,</a><br> +<a href="#How_happy_is_the_little_stone">How happy is the little stone</a><br> +<a href="#How_many_times_these_low_feet_staggered">How many times these low feet staggered,</a><br> +<a href="#How_still_the_bells_in_steeples_stand">How still the bells in steeples stand,</a><br> +<a href="#How_the_old_mountains_drip_with_sunset">How the old mountains drip with sunset,</a><br> +<a href="#I_asked_no_other_thing">I asked no other thing,</a><br> +<a href="#I_breathed_enough_to_learn_the_trick">I breathed enough to learn the trick,</a><br> +<a href="#I_bring_an_unaccustomed_wine">I bring an unaccustomed wine</a><br> +<a href="#I_can_wade_grief">I can wade grief,</a><br> +<a href="#I_cannot_live_with_you">I cannot live with you,</a><br> +<a href="#I_died_for_beauty_but_was_scarce">I died for beauty, but was scarce</a><br> +<a href="#I_dreaded_that_first_robin_so">I dreaded that first robin so,</a><br> +<a href="#I_envy_seas_whereon_he_rides">I envy seas whereon he rides,</a><br> +<a href="#I_felt_a_clearing_in_my_mind">I felt a clearing in my mind</a><br> +<a href="#I_felt_a_funeral_in_my_brain">I felt a funeral in my brain,</a><br> +<a href="#I_found_the_phrase_to_every_thought">I found the phrase to every thought</a><br> +<a href="#I_gained_it_so">I gained it so,</a><br> +<a href="#I_gave_myself_to_him">I gave myself to him,</a><br> +<a href="#I_had_a_daily_bliss">I had a daily bliss</a><br> +<a href="#I_had_a_guinea_golden">I had a guinea golden;</a><br> +<a href="#I_had_been_hungry_all_the_years">I had been hungry all the years;</a><br> +<a href="#I_had_no_cause_to_be_awake">I had no cause to be awake,</a><br> +<a href="#I_had_no_time_to_hate_because">I had no time to hate, because</a><br> +<a href="#I_have_a_king_who_does_not_speak">I have a king who does not speak;</a><br> +<a href="#I_have_no_life_but_this">I have no life but this,</a><br> +<a href="#I_have_not_told_my_garden_yet">I have not told my garden yet,</a><br> +<a href="#I_heard_a_fly_buzz_when_I_died">I heard a fly buzz when I died;</a><br> +<a href="#I_held_a_jewel_in_my_fingers">I held a jewel in my fingers</a><br> +<a href="#I_hide_myself_within_my_flower">I hide myself within my flower,</a><br> +<a href="#I_know_a_place_where_summer_strives">I know a place where summer strives</a><br> +<a href="#I_know_some_lonely_houses_off_the_road">I know some lonely houses off the road</a><br> +<a href="#I_know_that_he_exists">I know that he exists</a><br> +<a href="#I_like_a_look_of_agony">I like a look of agony,</a><br> +<a href="#I_like_to_see_it_lap_the_miles">I like to see it lap the miles,</a><br> +<a href="#I_live_with_him_I_see_his_face">I live with him, I see his face;</a><br> +<a href="#I_lived_on_dread_to_those_who_know">I lived on dread; to those who know</a><br> +<a href="#I_lost_a_world_the_other_day">I lost a world the other day.</a><br> +<a href="#I_many_times_thought_peace_had_come">I many times thought peace had come,</a><br> +<a href="#I_meant_to_find_her_when_I_came">I meant to find her when I came;</a><br> +<a href="#I_meant_to_have_but_modest_needs">I meant to have but modest needs,</a><br> +<a href="#I_measure_every_grief_I_meet">I measure every grief I meet</a><br> +<a href="#I_never_hear_the_word_escape">I never hear the word "escape"</a><br> +<a href="#I_never_lost_as_much_but_twice">I never lost as much but twice,</a><br> +<a href="#I_never_saw_a_moor">I never saw a moor,</a><br> +<a href="#I_noticed_people_disappeared">I noticed people disappeared,</a><br> +<a href="#I_read_my_sentence_steadily">I read my sentence steadily,</a><br> +<a href="#I_reason_earth_is_short">I reason, earth is short,</a><br> +<a href="#I_shall_know_why_when_time_is_over">I shall know why, when time is over,</a><br> +<a href="#I_should_have_been_too_glad_I_see">I should have been too glad, I see,</a><br> +<a href="#I_should_not_dare_to_leave_my_friend">I should not dare to leave my friend,</a><br> +<a href="#I_sing_to_use_the_waiting">I sing to use the waiting,</a><br> +<a href="#I_started_early_took_my_dog">I started early, took my dog,</a><br> +<a href="#I_stepped_from_plank_to_plank">I stepped from plank to plank</a><br> +<a href="#I_taste_a_liquor_never_brewed">I taste a liquor never brewed,</a><br> +<a href="#I_think_just_how_my_shape_will_rise">I think just how my shape will rise</a><br> +<a href="#I_think_the_hemlock_likes_to_stand">I think the hemlock likes to stand</a><br> +<a href="#I_took_my_power_in_my_hand">I took my power in my hand.</a><br> +<a href="#I_went_to_heaven">I went to heaven, —</a><br> +<a href="#I_went_to_thank_her">I went to thank her,</a><br> +<a href="#I_wish_I_knew_that_womans_name">I wish I knew that woman's name,</a><br> +<a href="#I_wonder_if_the_sepulchre">I wonder if the sepulchre</a><br> +<a href="#I_worked_for_chaff_and_earning_wheat">I worked for chaff, and earning wheat</a><br> +<a href="#I_years_had_been_from_home">I years had been from home,</a><br> +<a href="#Ill_tell_you_how_the_sun_rose">I'll tell you how the sun rose, —</a><br> +<a href="#Im_ceded_Ive_stopped_being_theirs">I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs;</a><br> +<a href="#Im_nobody_Who_are_you">I'm nobody! Who are you?</a><br> +<a href="#Im_wife_Ive_finished_that">I'm wife; I've finished that,</a><br> +<a href="#Ive_got_an_arrow_here">I've got an arrow here;</a><br> +<a href="#Ive_seen_a_dying_eye">I've seen a dying eye</a><br> +<a href="#If_I_can_stop_one_heart_from_breaking">If I can stop one heart from breaking,</a><br> +<a href="#If_I_may_have_it_when_its_dead">If I may have it when it's dead</a><br> +<a href="#If_I_should_die">If I should die,</a><br> +<a href="#If_I_shouldnt_be_alive">If I shouldn't be alive</a><br> +<a href="#If_anybodys_friend_be_dead">If anybody's friend be dead,</a><br> +<a href="#If_recollecting_were_forgetting">If recollecting were forgetting,</a><br> +<a href="#If_the_foolish_call_them_flowers">If the foolish call them 'flowers,'</a><br> +<a href="#If_tolling_bell_I_ask_the_cause">If tolling bell I ask the cause.</a><br> +<a href="#If_you_were_coming_in_the_fall">If you were coming in the fall,</a><br> +<a href="#Immortal_is_an_ample_word">Immortal is an ample word</a><br> +<a href="#In_lands_I_never_saw_they_say">In lands I never saw, they say,</a><br> +<a href="#Is_Heaven_a_physician">Is Heaven a physician?</a><br> +<a href="#Is_bliss_then_such_abyss">Is bliss, then, such abyss</a><br> +<a href="#It_cant_be_summer_that_got_through">It can't be summer, — that got through;</a><br> +<a href="#It_dropped_so_low_in_my_regard">It dropped so low in my regard</a><br> +<a href="#It_is_an_honorable_thought">It is an honorable thought,</a><br> +<a href="#It_makes_no_difference_abroad">It makes no difference abroad,</a><br> +<a href="#It_might_be_easier">It might be easier</a><br> +<a href="#It_sifts_from_leaden_sieves">It sifts from leaden sieves,</a><br> +<a href="#It_sounded_as_if_the_streets_were_running">It sounded as if the streets were running,</a><br> +<a href="#It_struck_me_every_day">It struck me every day</a><br> +<a href="#It_tossed_and_tossed">It tossed and tossed, —</a><br> +<a href="#It_was_not_death_for_I_stood_up">It was not death, for I stood up,</a><br> +<a href="#It_was_too_late_for_man">It was too late for man,</a><br> +<a href="#Its_like_the_light">It's like the light, —</a><br> +<a href="#Its_such_a_little_thing_to_weep">It's such a little thing to weep,</a><br> +<a href="#Just_lost_when_I_was_saved">Just lost when I was saved!</a><br> +<a href="#Lay_this_laurel_on_the_one">Lay this laurel on the one</a><br> +<a href="#Let_down_the_bars_O_Death">Let down the bars, O Death!</a><br> +<a href="#Let_me_not_mar_that_perfect_dream">Let me not mar that perfect dream</a><br> +<a href="#Life_and_Death_and_Giants">Life, and Death, and Giants</a><br> +<a href="#Like_mighty_footlights_burned_the_red">Like mighty footlights burned the red</a><br> +<a href="#Like_trains_of_cars_on_tracks_of_plush">Like trains of cars on tracks of plush</a><br> +<a href="#Look_back_on_time_with_kindly_eyes">Look back on time with kindly eyes,</a><br> +<a href="#Love_is_anterior_to_life">Love is anterior to life,</a><br> +<a href="#Me_Come_My_dazzled_face">Me! Come! My dazzled face</a><br> +<a href="#Mine_by_the_right_of_the_white_election">Mine by the right of the white election!</a><br> +<a href="#Mine_enemy_is_growing_old">Mine enemy is growing old, —</a><br> +<a href="#Morning_is_the_place_for_dew">Morning is the place for dew,</a><br> +<a href="#Morns_like_these_we_parted">Morns like these we parted;</a><br> +<a href="#Much_madness_is_divinest_sense">Much madness is divinest sense</a><br> +<a href="#Musicians_wrestle_everywhere:">Musicians wrestle everywhere:</a><br> +<a href="#My_cocoon_tightens_colors_tease">My cocoon tightens, colors tease,</a><br> +<a href="#My_country_need_not_change_her_gown">My country need not change her gown,</a><br> +<a href="#My_friend_must_be_a_bird">My friend must be a bird,</a><br> +<a href="#My_life_closed_twice_before_its_close">My life closed twice before its close;</a><br> +<a href="#My_river_runs_to_thee:">My river runs to thee:</a><br> +<a href="#My_worthiness_is_all_my_doubt">My worthiness is all my doubt,</a><br> +<a href="#Nature_rarer_uses_yellow">Nature rarer uses yellow</a><br> +<a href="#Nature_the_gentlest_mother">Nature, the gentlest mother,</a><br> +<a href="#New_feet_within_my_garden_go">New feet within my garden go,</a><br> +<a href="#No_brigadier_throughout_the_year">No brigadier throughout the year</a><br> +<a href="#No_rack_can_torture_me">No rack can torture me,</a><br> +<a href="#Not_any_higher_stands_the_grave">Not any higher stands the grave</a><br> +<a href="#Not_in_this_world_to_see_his_face">Not in this world to see his face</a><br> +<a href="#Not_knowing_when_the_dawn_will_come">Not knowing when the dawn will come</a><br> +<a href="#Not_with_a_club_the_heart_is_broken">Not with a club the heart is broken,</a><br> +<a href="#Of_all_the_souls_that_stand_create">Of all the souls that stand create</a><br> +<a href="#Of_all_the_sounds_despatched_abroad">Of all the sounds despatched abroad,</a><br> +<a href="#Of_bronze_and_blaze">Of bronze and blaze</a><br> +<a href="#Of_tribulation_these_are_they">Of tribulation these are they</a><br> +<a href="#On_such_a_night_or_such_a_night">On such a night, or such a night,</a><br> +<a href="#On_the_bleakness_of_my_lot">On the bleakness of my lot</a><br> +<a href="#On_this_long_storm_the_rainbow_rose">On this long storm the rainbow rose,</a><br> +<a href="#On_this_wondrous_sea">On this wondrous sea,</a><br> +<a href="#One_blessing_had_I_than_the_rest">One blessing had I, than the rest</a><br> +<a href="#One_day_is_there_of_the_series">One day is there of the series</a><br> +<a href="#One_dignity_delays_for_all">One dignity delays for all,</a><br> +<a href="#One_need_not_be_a_chamber_to_be_haunted">One need not be a chamber to be haunted,</a><br> +<a href="#One_of_the_ones_that_Midas_touched">One of the ones that Midas touched,</a><br> +<a href="#Our_journey_had_advanced">Our journey had advanced;</a><br> +<a href="#Our_lives_are_Swiss">Our lives are Swiss, —</a><br> +<a href="#Our_share_of_night_to_bear">Our share of night to bear,</a><br> +<a href="#Pain_has_an_element_of_blank">Pain has an element of blank;</a><br> +<a href="#Perhaps_youd_like_to_buy_a_flower">Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?</a><br> +<a href="#Pigmy_seraphs_gone_astray">Pigmy seraphs gone astray,</a><br> +<a href="#Pink_small_and_punctual">Pink, small, and punctual,</a><br> +<a href="#Pompless_no_life_can_pass_away">Pompless no life can pass away;</a><br> +<a href="#Poor_little_heart">Poor little heart!</a><br> +<a href="#Portraits_are_to_daily_faces">Portraits are to daily faces</a><br> +<a href="#Prayer_is_the_little_implement">Prayer is the little implement</a><br> +<a href="#Presentiment_is_that_long_shadow_on_the_lawn">Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn</a><br> +<a href="#Proud_of_my_broken_heart_since_thou_didst_break_it">Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,</a><br> +<a href="#Read_sweet_how_others_strove">Read, sweet, how others strove,</a><br> +<a href="#Remembrance_has_a_rear_and_front">Remembrance has a rear and front, —</a><br> +<a href="#Remorse_is_memory_awake">Remorse is memory awake,</a><br> +<a href="#Safe_in_their_alabaster_chambers">Safe in their alabaster chambers,</a><br> +<a href="#She_died_this_was_the_way_she_died">She died, — this was the way she died;</a><br> +<a href="#She_laid_her_docile_crescent_down">She laid her docile crescent down,</a><br> +<a href="#She_rose_to_his_requirement_dropped">She rose to his requirement, dropped</a><br> +<a href="#She_slept_beneath_a_tree">She slept beneath a tree</a><br> +<a href="#She_sweeps_with_many-colored_brooms">She sweeps with many-colored brooms,</a><br> +<a href="#She_went_as_quiet_as_the_dew">She went as quiet as the dew</a><br> +<a href="#Sleep_is_supposed_to_be">Sleep is supposed to be,</a><br> +<a href="#So_bashful_when_I_spied_her">So bashful when I spied her,</a><br> +<a href="#So_proud_she_was_to_die">So proud she was to die</a><br> +<a href="#Softened_by_Times_consummate_plush">Softened by Time's consummate plush,</a><br> +<a href="#Some_keep_the_Sabbath_going_to_church">Some keep the Sabbath going to church;</a><br> +<a href="#Some_rainbow_coming_from_the_fair">Some rainbow coming from the fair!</a><br> +<a href="#Some_things_that_fly_there_be">Some things that fly there be, —</a><br> +<a href="#Some_too_fragile_for_winter_winds">Some, too fragile for winter winds,</a><br> +<a href="#Soul_wilt_thou_toss_again">Soul, wilt thou toss again?</a><br> +<a href="#South_winds_jostle_them">South winds jostle them,</a><br> +<a href="#Split_the_lark_and_youll_find_the_music">Split the lark and you'll find the music,</a><br> +<a href="#Step_lightly_on_this_narrow_spot">Step lightly on this narrow spot!</a><br> +<a href="#Success_is_counted_sweetest">Success is counted sweetest</a><br> +<a href="#Summer_for_thee_grant_I_may_be">Summer for thee grant I may be</a><br> +<a href="#Superfluous_were_the_sun">Superfluous were the sun</a><br> +<a href="#Superiority_to_fate">Superiority to fate</a></br> +<a href="#Surgeons_must_be_very_careful">Surgeons must be very careful</a><br> +<a href="#Sweet_hours_have_perished_here">Sweet hours have perished here;</a><br> +<a href="#Sweet_is_the_swamp_with_its_secrets">Sweet is the swamp with its secrets,</a><br> +<a href="#Taken_from_men_this_morning">Taken from men this morning,</a><br> +<a href="#Talk_with_prudence_to_a_beggar">Talk with prudence to a beggar</a><br> +<a href="#That_I_did_always_love">That I did always love,</a><br> +<a href="#That_is_solemn_we_have_ended">That is solemn we have ended, —</a><br> +<a href="#That_short_potential_stir">That short, potential stir</a><br> +<a href="#That_such_have_died_enables_us">That such have died enables us</a><br> +<a href="#The_bat_is_dun_with_wrinkled_wings">The bat is dun with wrinkled wings</a><br> +<a href="#The_bee_is_not_afraid_of_me">The bee is not afraid of me,</a><br> +<a href="#The_body_grows_outside">The body grows outside, —</a><br> +<a href="#The_bone_that_has_no_marrow">The bone that has no marrow;</a><br> +<a href="#The_brain_is_wider_than_the_sky">The brain is wider than the sky,</a><br> +<a href="#The_brain_within_its_groove">The brain within its groove</a><br> +<a href="#The_bustle_in_a_house">The bustle in a house</a><br> +<a href="#The_butterflys_assumption-gown">The butterfly's assumption-gown,</a><br> +<a href="#The_clouds_their_backs_together_laid">The clouds their backs together laid,</a><br> +<a href="#The_cricket_sang">The cricket sang,</a><br> +<a href="#The_daisy_follows_soft_the_sun">The daisy follows soft the sun,</a><br> +<a href="#The_day_came_slow_till_five_oclock">The day came slow, till five o'clock,</a><br> +<a href="#The_distance_that_the_dead_have_gone">The distance that the dead have gone</a><br> +<a href="#The_dying_need_but_little_dear">The dying need but little, dear, —</a><br> +<a href="#The_farthest_thunder_that_I_heard">The farthest thunder that I heard</a><br> +<a href="#The_gentian_weaves_her_fringes">The gentian weaves her fringes,</a><br> +<a href="#The_grass_so_little_has_to_do">The grass so little has to do, —</a><br> +<a href="#The_grave_my_little_cottage_is">The grave my little cottage is,</a><br> +<a href="#The_heart_asks_pleasure_first">The heart asks pleasure first,</a><br> +<a href="#The_last_night_that_she_lived">The last night that she lived,</a><br> +<a href="#The_leaves_like_women_interchange">The leaves, like women, interchange</a><br> +<a href="#The_moon_is_distant_from_the_sea">The moon is distant from the sea,</a><br> +<a href="#The_moon_was_but_a_chin_of_gold">The moon was but a chin of gold</a><br> +<a href="#The_morns_are_meeker_than_they_were">The morns are meeker than they were,</a><br> +<a href="#The_mountain_sat_upon_the_plain">The mountain sat upon the plain</a><br> +<a href="#The_murmur_of_a_bee">The murmur of a bee</a><br> +<a href="#The_murmuring_of_bees_has_ceased">The murmuring of bees has ceased;</a><br> +<a href="#The_mushroom_is_the_elf_of_plants">The mushroom is the elf of plants,</a><br> +<a href="#The_nearest_dream_recedes_unrealized">The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.</a><br> +<a href="#The_night_was_wide_and_furnished_scant">The night was wide, and furnished scant</a><br> +<a href="#The_one_that_could_repeat_the_summer_day">The one that could repeat the summer day</a><br> +<a href="#The_only_ghost_I_ever_saw">The only ghost I ever saw</a><br> +<a href="#The_past_is_such_a_curious_creature">The past is such a curious creature,</a><br> +<a href="#The_pedigree_of_honey">The pedigree of honey</a><br> +<a href="#The_rat_is_the_concisest_tenant">The rat is the concisest tenant.</a><br> +<a href="#The_reticent_volcano_keeps">The reticent volcano keeps</a><br> +<a href="#The_robin_is_the_one">The robin is the one</a><br> +<a href="#The_rose_did_caper_on_her_cheek">The rose did caper on her cheek,</a><br> +<a href="#The_show_is_not_the_show">The show is not the show,</a><br> +<a href="#The_skies_cant_keep_their_secret">The skies can't keep their secret!</a><br> +<a href="#The_sky_is_low_the_clouds_are_mean">The sky is low, the clouds are mean,</a><br> +<a href="#The_soul_selects_her_own_society">The soul selects her own society,</a><br> +<a href="#The_soul_should_always_stand_ajar">The soul should always stand ajar,</a><br> +<a href="#The_soul_unto_itself">The soul unto itself</a><br> +<a href="#The_spider_as_an_artist">The spider as an artist</a><br> +<a href="#The_springtimes_pallid_landscape">The springtime's pallid landscape</a><br> +<a href="#The_stimulus_beyond_the_grave">The stimulus, beyond the grave</a><br> +<a href="#The_sun_just_touched_the_morning">The sun just touched the morning;</a><br> +<a href="#The_sun_kept_setting_setting_still">The sun kept setting, setting still;</a><br> +<a href="#The_thought_beneath_so_slight_a_film">The thought beneath so slight a film</a><br> +<a href="#The_way_I_read_a_letter_s_this:">The way I read a letter 's this:</a><br> +<a href="#The_wind_begun_to_rock_the_grass">The wind begun to rock the grass</a><br> +<a href="#Their_height_in_heaven_comforts_not">Their height in heaven comforts not,</a><br> +<a href="#There_came_a_day_at_summers_full">There came a day at summer's full</a><br> +<a href="#There_came_a_wind_like_a_bugle">There came a wind like a bugle;</a><br> +<a href="#There_is_a_flower_that_bees_prefer">There is a flower that bees prefer,</a><br> +<a href="#There_is_a_shame_of_nobleness">There is a shame of nobleness</a><br> +<a href="#There_is_a_word">There is a word</a><br> +<a href="#There_is_no_frigate_like_a_book">There is no frigate like a book</a><br> +<a href="#Theres_a_certain_slant_of_light">There's a certain slant of light,</a><br> +<a href="#Theres_been_a_death_in_the_opposite_house">There's been a death in the opposite house</a><br> +<a href="#Theres_something_quieter_than_sleep">There's something quieter than sleep</a><br> +<a href="#These_are_the_days_when_birds_come_back">These are the days when birds come back,</a><br> +<a href="#They_dropped_like_flakes_they_dropped_like_stars">They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,</a><br> +<a href="#They_say_that_time_assuages">They say that 'time assuages,' —</a><br> +<a href="#They_wont_frown_always_some_sweet_day">They won't frown always, — some sweet day</a><br> +<a href="#This_is_my_letter_to_the_world"> This is my letter to the world,</a><br> +<a href="#This_is_the_land_the_sunset_washes">This is the land the sunset washes,</a><br> +<a href="#This_merit_hath_the_worst">This merit hath the worst, —</a><br> +<a href="#This_was_in_the_white_of_the_year">This was in the white of the year,</a><br> +<a href="#This_world_is_not_conclusion">This world is not conclusion;</a><br> +<a href="#Though_I_get_home_how_late_how_late">Though I get home how late, how late!</a><br> +<a href="#Three_weeks_passed_since_I_had_seen_her">Three weeks passed since I had seen her, —</a><br> +<a href="#Through_the_straight_pass_of_suffering">Through the straight pass of suffering</a><br> +<a href="#T_is_so_much_joy_T_is_so_much_joy">'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy!</a><br> +<a href="#T_is_sunrise_little_maid_hast_thou">'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou</a><br> +<a href="#T_is_whiter_than_an_Indian_pipe">'T is whiter than an Indian pipe,</a><br> +<a href="#Tie_the_strings_to_my_life_my_Lord,">Tie the strings to my life, my Lord,</a><br> +<a href="#To_fight_aloud_is_very_brave">To fight aloud is very brave,</a><br> +<a href="#To_hang_our_head_ostensibly">To hang our head ostensibly,</a><br> +<a href="#To_hear_an_oriole_sing">To hear an oriole sing</a><br> +<a href="#To_help_our_bleaker_parts">To help our bleaker parts</a><br> +<a href="#To_know_just_how_he_suffered_would_be_dear">To know just how he suffered would be dear;</a><br> +<a href="#To_learn_the_transport_by_the_pain">To learn the transport by the pain,</a><br> +<a href="#To_lose_ones_faith_surpasses">To lose one's faith surpasses</a><br> +<a href="#To_lose_thee_sweeter_than_to_gain">To lose thee, sweeter than to gain</a><br> +<a href="#To_make_a_prairie_it_takes_a_clover_and_one_bee">To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, —</a><br> +<a href="#To_my_quick_ear_the_leaves_conferred">To my quick ear the leaves conferred;</a><br> +<a href="#To_venerate_the_simple_days">To venerate the simple days</a><br> +<a href="#Triumph_may_be_of_several_kinds">Triumph may be of several kinds.</a><br> +<a href="#T_is_little_I_could_care_for_pearls">'T is little I could care for pearls</a><br> +<a href="#T_was_a_long_parting_but_the_time">'T was a long parting, but the time</a><br> +<a href="#T_was_just_this_time_last_year_I_died">'T was just this time last year I died.</a><br> +<a href="#T_was_later_when_the_summer_went">'T was later when the summer went</a><br> +<a href="#T_was_such_a_little_little_boat">'T was such a little, little boat</a><br> +<a href="#Two_butterflies_went_out_at_noon">Two butterflies went out at noon</a><br> +<a href="#Two_swimmers_wrestled_on_the_spar">Two swimmers wrestled on the spar</a><br> +<a href="#Undue_significance_a_starving_man_attaches">Undue significance a starving man attaches</a><br> +<a href="#Unto_my_books_so_good_to_turn">Unto my books so good to turn</a><br> +<a href="#Upon_the_gallows_hung_a_wretch">Upon the gallows hung a wretch,</a><br> +<a href="#Victory_comes_late">Victory comes late,</a><br> +<a href="#Wait_till_the_majesty_of_Death">Wait till the majesty of Death</a><br> +<a href="#Water_is_taught_by_thirst">Water is taught by thirst;</a><br> +<a href="#We_cover_thee_sweet_face">We cover thee, sweet face.</a><br> +<a href="#We_learn_in_the_retreating">We learn in the retreating</a><br> +<a href="#We_like_March_his_shoes_are_purple">We like March, his shoes are purple,</a><br> +<a href="#We_never_know_how_high_we_are">We never know how high we are</a><br> +<a href="#We_never_know_we_go_when_we_are_going">We never know we go, — when we are going</a><br> +<a href="#We_outgrow_love_like_other_things">We outgrow love like other things</a><br> +<a href="#We_play_at_paste">We play at paste,</a><br> +<a href="#We_thirst_at_first_t_is_Nature's_act">We thirst at first, — 't is Nature's act;</a><br> +<a href="#Went_up_a_year_this_evening">Went up a year this evening!</a><br> +<a href="#What_if_I_say_I_shall_not_wait">What if I say I shall not wait?</a><br> +<a href="#What_inn_is_this">What inn is this</a><br> +<a href="#What_mystery_pervades_a_well">What mystery pervades a well!</a><br> +<a href="#What_soft_cherubic_creatures">What soft, cherubic creatures</a><br> +<a href="#When_I_hoped_I_feared">When I hoped I feared,</a><br> +<a href="#When_I_was_small_a_woman_died">When I was small, a woman died.</a><br> +<a href="#When_night_is_almost_done">When night is almost done,</a><br> +<a href="#When_roses_cease_to_bloom_dear">When roses cease to bloom, dear,</a><br> +<a href="#Where_every_bird_is_bold_to_go">Where every bird is bold to go,</a><br> +<a href="#Where_ships_of_purple_gently_toss">Where ships of purple gently toss</a><br> +<a href="#Whether_my_bark_went_down_at_sea">Whether my bark went down at sea,</a><br> +<a href="#While_I_was_fearing_it_it_came">While I was fearing it, it came,</a><br> +<a href="#Who_has_not_found_the_heaven_below">Who has not found the heaven below</a><br> +<a href="#Who_never_lost_are_unprepared">Who never lost, are unprepared</a><br> +<a href="#Who_never_wanted_maddest_joy">Who never wanted, — maddest joy</a><br> +<a href="#Who_robbed_the_woods">Who robbed the woods,</a><br> +<a href="#Whose_are_the_little_beds_I_asked">"Whose are the little beds," I asked,</a><br> +<a href="#Wild_nights_Wild_nights">Wild nights! Wild nights!</a><br> +<a href="#Will_there_really_be_a_morning">Will there really be a morning?</a><br> +<a href="#Within_my_reach">Within my reach!</a><br> +<a href="#You_cannot_put_a_fire_out">You cannot put a fire out;</a><br> +<a href="#You_left_me_sweet_two_legacies">You left me, sweet, two legacies, —</a><br> +<a href="#Youve_seen_balloons_set_haven't_you">You've seen balloons set, haven't you?</a><br> +<a href="#Your_riches_taught_me_poverty">Your riches taught me poverty.</a><br> +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 12242-h.htm or 12242-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/4/12242/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems: Three Series, Complete + +Author: Emily Dickinson + +Release Date: May 3, 2004 [EBook #12242] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE. + +The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson +long since called "the Poetry of the Portfolio,"--something produced +absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of +expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably +forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism +and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it +may often gain something through the habit of freedom and the +unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the +present author, there was absolutely no choice in the matter; she +must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, +literally spending years without setting her foot beyond the +doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly +limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, +like her person, from all but a very few friends; and it was with +great difficulty that she was persuaded to print, during her +lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great +abundance; and though brought curiously indifferent to all +conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, +and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own +tenacious fastidiousness. + +Miss Dickinson was born in Amherst, Mass., Dec. 10, 1830, and died +there May 15, 1886. Her father, Hon. Edward Dickinson, was the +leading lawyer of Amherst, and was treasurer of the well-known +college there situated. It was his custom once a year to hold a large +reception at his house, attended by all the families connected with +the institution and by the leading people of the town. On these +occasions his daughter Emily emerged from her wonted retirement and +did her part as gracious hostess; nor would any one have known from +her manner, I have been told, that this was not a daily occurrence. +The annual occasion once past, she withdrew again into her seclusion, +and except for a very few friends was as invisible to the world as if +she had dwelt in a nunnery. For myself, although I had corresponded +with her for many years, I saw her but twice face to face, and +brought away the impression of something as unique and remote as +Undine or Mignon or Thekla. + +This selection from her poems is published to meet the desire of her +personal friends, and especially of her surviving sister. It is +believed that the thoughtful reader will find in these pages a +quality more suggestive of the poetry of William Blake than of +anything to be elsewhere found,--flashes of wholly original and +profound insight into nature and life; words and phrases exhibiting +an extraordinary vividness of descriptive and imaginative power, yet +often set in a seemingly whimsical or even rugged frame. They are +here published as they were written, with very few and superficial +changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been +assigned, almost invariably, by the editors. In many cases these +verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with +rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and +a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed. In other cases, as in the +few poems of shipwreck or of mental conflict, we can only wonder at +the gift of vivid imagination by which this recluse woman can +delineate, by a few touches, the very crises of physical or mental +struggle. And sometimes again we catch glimpses of a lyric strain, +sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the +reader regret its sudden cessation. But the main quality of these +poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an +uneven vigor sometimes exasperating, seemingly wayward, but really +unsought and inevitable. After all, when a thought takes one's +breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence. As Ruskin +wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty +of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought." + + ---Thomas Wentworth Higginson + + + + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + +As is well documented, Emily Dickinson's poems were edited in these +early editions by her friends, better to fit the conventions of the +times. In particular, her dashes, often small enough to appear +as dots, became commas and semi-colons. + +In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her +handwritten poem which her editors titled "Renunciation" is given, +and I here transcribe that manuscript as faithfully as I can, +showing _underlined_ words thus. + + +There came a day - at Summer's full - +Entirely for me - +I thought that such were for the Saints - +Where Resurrections - be - + +The sun - as common - went abroad - +The flowers - accustomed - blew, +As if no soul - that solstice passed - +Which maketh all things - new - + +The time was scarce profaned - by speech - +The falling of a word +Was needless - as at Sacrament - +The _Wardrobe_ - of our Lord! + +Each was to each - the sealed church - +Permitted to commune - _this_ time - +Lest we too awkward show +At Supper of "the Lamb." + +The hours slid fast - as hours will - +Clutched tight - by greedy hands - +So - faces on two Decks look back - +Bound to _opposing_ lands. + +And so, when all the time had leaked, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's Crucifix - +We gave no other bond - + +Sufficient troth - that we shall _rise_, +Deposed - at length the Grave - +To that new marriage - +_Justified_ - through Calvaries - of Love! + + +From the handwriting, it is not always clear which are dashes, +which are commas and which are periods, nor it is entirely +clear which initial letters are capitalized. + +However, this transcription may be compared with the edited +version in the main text to get a flavor of the changes made +in these early editions. + + ---JT + + + + + + + + + + + This is my letter to the world, + That never wrote to me, -- + The simple news that Nature told, + With tender majesty. + + Her message is committed + To hands I cannot see; + For love of her, sweet countrymen, + Judge tenderly of me! + + + + + + + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +SUCCESS. + +[Published in "A Masque of Poets" +at the request of "H.H.," the author's +fellow-townswoman and friend.] + +Success is counted sweetest +By those who ne'er succeed. +To comprehend a nectar +Requires sorest need. + +Not one of all the purple host +Who took the flag to-day +Can tell the definition, +So clear, of victory, + +As he, defeated, dying, +On whose forbidden ear +The distant strains of triumph +Break, agonized and clear! + + + + + +II. + +Our share of night to bear, +Our share of morning, +Our blank in bliss to fill, +Our blank in scorning. + +Here a star, and there a star, +Some lose their way. +Here a mist, and there a mist, +Afterwards -- day! + + + + + +III. + +ROUGE ET NOIR. + +Soul, wilt thou toss again? +By just such a hazard +Hundreds have lost, indeed, +But tens have won an all. + +Angels' breathless ballot +Lingers to record thee; +Imps in eager caucus +Raffle for my soul. + + + + + +IV. + +ROUGE GAGNE. + +'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy! +If I should fail, what poverty! +And yet, as poor as I +Have ventured all upon a throw; +Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so +This side the victory! + +Life is but life, and death but death! +Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath! +And if, indeed, I fail, +At least to know the worst is sweet. +Defeat means nothing but defeat, +No drearier can prevail! + +And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea, +Oh, bells that in the steeples be, +At first repeat it slow! +For heaven is a different thing +Conjectured, and waked sudden in, +And might o'erwhelm me so! + + + + + +V. + +Glee! The great storm is over! +Four have recovered the land; +Forty gone down together +Into the boiling sand. + +Ring, for the scant salvation! +Toll, for the bonnie souls, -- +Neighbor and friend and bridegroom, +Spinning upon the shoals! + +How they will tell the shipwreck +When winter shakes the door, +Till the children ask, "But the forty? +Did they come back no more?" + +Then a silence suffuses the story, +And a softness the teller's eye; +And the children no further question, +And only the waves reply. + + + + + +VI. + +If I can stop one heart from breaking, +I shall not live in vain; +If I can ease one life the aching, +Or cool one pain, +Or help one fainting robin +Unto his nest again, +I shall not live in vain. + + + + + +VII. + +ALMOST! + +Within my reach! +I could have touched! +I might have chanced that way! +Soft sauntered through the village, +Sauntered as soft away! +So unsuspected violets +Within the fields lie low, +Too late for striving fingers +That passed, an hour ago. + + + + + +VIII. + +A wounded deer leaps highest, +I've heard the hunter tell; +'T is but the ecstasy of death, +And then the brake is still. + +The smitten rock that gushes, +The trampled steel that springs; +A cheek is always redder +Just where the hectic stings! + +Mirth is the mail of anguish, +In which it cautions arm, +Lest anybody spy the blood +And "You're hurt" exclaim! + + + + + +IX. + +The heart asks pleasure first, +And then, excuse from pain; +And then, those little anodynes +That deaden suffering; + +And then, to go to sleep; +And then, if it should be +The will of its Inquisitor, +The liberty to die. + + + + + +X. + +IN A LIBRARY. + +A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is +To meet an antique book, +In just the dress his century wore; +A privilege, I think, + +His venerable hand to take, +And warming in our own, +A passage back, or two, to make +To times when he was young. + +His quaint opinions to inspect, +His knowledge to unfold +On what concerns our mutual mind, +The literature of old; + +What interested scholars most, +What competitions ran +When Plato was a certainty. +And Sophocles a man; + +When Sappho was a living girl, +And Beatrice wore +The gown that Dante deified. +Facts, centuries before, + +He traverses familiar, +As one should come to town +And tell you all your dreams were true; +He lived where dreams were sown. + +His presence is enchantment, +You beg him not to go; +Old volumes shake their vellum heads +And tantalize, just so. + + + + + +XI. + +Much madness is divinest sense +To a discerning eye; +Much sense the starkest madness. +'T is the majority +In this, as all, prevails. +Assent, and you are sane; +Demur, -- you're straightway dangerous, +And handled with a chain. +XII. + +I asked no other thing, +No other was denied. +I offered Being for it; +The mighty merchant smiled. + +Brazil? He twirled a button, +Without a glance my way: +"But, madam, is there nothing else +That we can show to-day?" + + + + + +XIII. + +EXCLUSION. + +The soul selects her own society, +Then shuts the door; +On her divine majority +Obtrude no more. + +Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing +At her low gate; +Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling +Upon her mat. + +I've known her from an ample nation +Choose one; +Then close the valves of her attention +Like stone. + + + + + +XIV. + +THE SECRET. + +Some things that fly there be, -- +Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: +Of these no elegy. + +Some things that stay there be, -- +Grief, hills, eternity: +Nor this behooveth me. + +There are, that resting, rise. +Can I expound the skies? +How still the riddle lies! + + + + + +XV. + +THE LONELY HOUSE. + +I know some lonely houses off the road +A robber 'd like the look of, -- +Wooden barred, +And windows hanging low, +Inviting to +A portico, +Where two could creep: +One hand the tools, +The other peep +To make sure all's asleep. +Old-fashioned eyes, +Not easy to surprise! + +How orderly the kitchen 'd look by night, +With just a clock, -- +But they could gag the tick, +And mice won't bark; +And so the walls don't tell, +None will. + +A pair of spectacles ajar just stir -- +An almanac's aware. +Was it the mat winked, +Or a nervous star? +The moon slides down the stair +To see who's there. + +There's plunder, -- where? +Tankard, or spoon, +Earring, or stone, +A watch, some ancient brooch +To match the grandmamma, +Staid sleeping there. + +Day rattles, too, +Stealth's slow; +The sun has got as far +As the third sycamore. +Screams chanticleer, +"Who's there?" +And echoes, trains away, +Sneer -- "Where?" +While the old couple, just astir, +Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar! + + + + + +XVI. + +To fight aloud is very brave, +But gallanter, I know, +Who charge within the bosom, +The cavalry of woe. + +Who win, and nations do not see, +Who fall, and none observe, +Whose dying eyes no country +Regards with patriot love. + +We trust, in plumed procession, +For such the angels go, +Rank after rank, with even feet +And uniforms of snow. + + + + + +XVII. + +DAWN. + +When night is almost done, +And sunrise grows so near +That we can touch the spaces, +It 's time to smooth the hair + +And get the dimples ready, +And wonder we could care +For that old faded midnight +That frightened but an hour. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE BOOK OF MARTYRS. + +Read, sweet, how others strove, +Till we are stouter; +What they renounced, +Till we are less afraid; +How many times they bore +The faithful witness, +Till we are helped, +As if a kingdom cared! + +Read then of faith +That shone above the fagot; +Clear strains of hymn +The river could not drown; +Brave names of men +And celestial women, +Passed out of record +Into renown! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MYSTERY OF PAIN. + +Pain has an element of blank; +It cannot recollect +When it began, or if there were +A day when it was not. + +It has no future but itself, +Its infinite realms contain +Its past, enlightened to perceive +New periods of pain. + + + + + +XX. + +I taste a liquor never brewed, +From tankards scooped in pearl; +Not all the vats upon the Rhine +Yield such an alcohol! + +Inebriate of air am I, +And debauchee of dew, +Reeling, through endless summer days, +From inns of molten blue. + +When landlords turn the drunken bee +Out of the foxglove's door, +When butterflies renounce their drams, +I shall but drink the more! + +Till seraphs swing their snowy hats, +And saints to windows run, +To see the little tippler +Leaning against the sun! + + + + + +XXI. + +A BOOK. + +He ate and drank the precious words, +His spirit grew robust; +He knew no more that he was poor, +Nor that his frame was dust. +He danced along the dingy days, +And this bequest of wings +Was but a book. What liberty +A loosened spirit brings! + + + + + +XXII. + +I had no time to hate, because +The grave would hinder me, +And life was not so ample I +Could finish enmity. + +Nor had I time to love; but since +Some industry must be, +The little toil of love, I thought, +Was large enough for me. + + + + + +XXIII. + +UNRETURNING. + +'T was such a little, little boat +That toddled down the bay! +'T was such a gallant, gallant sea +That beckoned it away! + +'T was such a greedy, greedy wave +That licked it from the coast; +Nor ever guessed the stately sails +My little craft was lost! + + + + + +XXIV. + +Whether my bark went down at sea, +Whether she met with gales, +Whether to isles enchanted +She bent her docile sails; + +By what mystic mooring +She is held to-day, -- +This is the errand of the eye +Out upon the bay. + + + + + +XXV. + +Belshazzar had a letter, -- +He never had but one; +Belshazzar's correspondent +Concluded and begun +In that immortal copy +The conscience of us all +Can read without its glasses +On revelation's wall. + + + + + +XXVI. + +The brain within its groove +Runs evenly and true; +But let a splinter swerve, +'T were easier for you +To put the water back +When floods have slit the hills, +And scooped a turnpike for themselves, +And blotted out the mills! + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +MINE. + +Mine by the right of the white election! +Mine by the royal seal! +Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison +Bars cannot conceal! + +Mine, here in vision and in veto! +Mine, by the grave's repeal +Titled, confirmed, -- delirious charter! +Mine, while the ages steal! + + + + + +II. + +BEQUEST. + +You left me, sweet, two legacies, -- +A legacy of love +A Heavenly Father would content, +Had He the offer of; + +You left me boundaries of pain +Capacious as the sea, +Between eternity and time, +Your consciousness and me. + + + + + +III. + +Alter? When the hills do. +Falter? When the sun +Question if his glory +Be the perfect one. + +Surfeit? When the daffodil +Doth of the dew: +Even as herself, O friend! +I will of you! + + + + + +IV. + +SUSPENSE. + +Elysium is as far as to +The very nearest room, +If in that room a friend await +Felicity or doom. + +What fortitude the soul contains, +That it can so endure +The accent of a coming foot, +The opening of a door! + + + + + +V. + +SURRENDER. + +Doubt me, my dim companion! +Why, God would be content +With but a fraction of the love +Poured thee without a stint. +The whole of me, forever, +What more the woman can, -- +Say quick, that I may dower thee +With last delight I own! + +It cannot be my spirit, +For that was thine before; +I ceded all of dust I knew, -- +What opulence the more +Had I, a humble maiden, +Whose farthest of degree +Was that she might, +Some distant heaven, +Dwell timidly with thee! + + + + + +VI. + +If you were coming in the fall, +I'd brush the summer by +With half a smile and half a spurn, +As housewives do a fly. + +If I could see you in a year, +I'd wind the months in balls, +And put them each in separate drawers, +Until their time befalls. + +If only centuries delayed, +I'd count them on my hand, +Subtracting till my fingers dropped +Into Van Diemen's land. + +If certain, when this life was out, +That yours and mine should be, +I'd toss it yonder like a rind, +And taste eternity. + +But now, all ignorant of the length +Of time's uncertain wing, +It goads me, like the goblin bee, +That will not state its sting. + + + + + +VII. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That wearing on your breast, +You, unsuspecting, wear me too -- +And angels know the rest. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That, fading from your vase, +You, unsuspecting, feel for me +Almost a loneliness. + + + + + +VIII. + +PROOF. + +That I did always love, +I bring thee proof: +That till I loved +I did not love enough. + +That I shall love alway, +I offer thee +That love is life, +And life hath immortality. + +This, dost thou doubt, sweet? +Then have I +Nothing to show +But Calvary. + + + + + +IX. + +Have you got a brook in your little heart, +Where bashful flowers blow, +And blushing birds go down to drink, +And shadows tremble so? + +And nobody knows, so still it flows, +That any brook is there; +And yet your little draught of life +Is daily drunken there. + +Then look out for the little brook in March, +When the rivers overflow, +And the snows come hurrying from the hills, +And the bridges often go. + +And later, in August it may be, +When the meadows parching lie, +Beware, lest this little brook of life +Some burning noon go dry! + + + + + +X. + +TRANSPLANTED. + +As if some little Arctic flower, +Upon the polar hem, +Went wandering down the latitudes, +Until it puzzled came +To continents of summer, +To firmaments of sun, +To strange, bright crowds of flowers, +And birds of foreign tongue! +I say, as if this little flower +To Eden wandered in -- +What then? Why, nothing, only, +Your inference therefrom! + + + + + +XI. + +THE OUTLET. + +My river runs to thee: +Blue sea, wilt welcome me? + +My river waits reply. +Oh sea, look graciously! + +I'll fetch thee brooks +From spotted nooks, -- + +Say, sea, +Take me! + + + + + +XII. + +IN VAIN. + +I cannot live with you, +It would be life, +And life is over there +Behind the shelf + +The sexton keeps the key to, +Putting up +Our life, his porcelain, +Like a cup + +Discarded of the housewife, +Quaint or broken; +A newer Sevres pleases, +Old ones crack. + +I could not die with you, +For one must wait +To shut the other's gaze down, -- +You could not. + +And I, could I stand by +And see you freeze, +Without my right of frost, +Death's privilege? + +Nor could I rise with you, +Because your face +Would put out Jesus', +That new grace + +Glow plain and foreign +On my homesick eye, +Except that you, than he +Shone closer by. + +They'd judge us -- how? +For you served Heaven, you know, +Or sought to; +I could not, + +Because you saturated sight, +And I had no more eyes +For sordid excellence +As Paradise. + +And were you lost, I would be, +Though my name +Rang loudest +On the heavenly fame. + +And were you saved, +And I condemned to be +Where you were not, +That self were hell to me. + +So we must keep apart, +You there, I here, +With just the door ajar +That oceans are, +And prayer, +And that pale sustenance, +Despair! + + + + + +XIII. + +RENUNCIATION. + +There came a day at summer's full +Entirely for me; +I thought that such were for the saints, +Where revelations be. + +The sun, as common, went abroad, +The flowers, accustomed, blew, +As if no soul the solstice passed +That maketh all things new. + +The time was scarce profaned by speech; +The symbol of a word +Was needless, as at sacrament +The wardrobe of our Lord. + +Each was to each the sealed church, +Permitted to commune this time, +Lest we too awkward show +At supper of the Lamb. + +The hours slid fast, as hours will, +Clutched tight by greedy hands; +So faces on two decks look back, +Bound to opposing lands. + +And so, when all the time had failed, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's crucifix, +We gave no other bond. + +Sufficient troth that we shall rise -- +Deposed, at length, the grave -- +To that new marriage, justified +Through Calvaries of Love! + + + + + +XIV. + +LOVE'S BAPTISM. + +I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs; +The name they dropped upon my face +With water, in the country church, +Is finished using now, +And they can put it with my dolls, +My childhood, and the string of spools +I've finished threading too. + +Baptized before without the choice, +But this time consciously, of grace +Unto supremest name, +Called to my full, the crescent dropped, +Existence's whole arc filled up +With one small diadem. + +My second rank, too small the first, +Crowned, crowing on my father's breast, +A half unconscious queen; +But this time, adequate, erect, +With will to choose or to reject. +And I choose -- just a throne. + + + + + +XV. + +RESURRECTION. + +'T was a long parting, but the time +For interview had come; +Before the judgment-seat of God, +The last and second time + +These fleshless lovers met, +A heaven in a gaze, +A heaven of heavens, the privilege +Of one another's eyes. + +No lifetime set on them, +Apparelled as the new +Unborn, except they had beheld, +Born everlasting now. + +Was bridal e'er like this? +A paradise, the host, +And cherubim and seraphim +The most familiar guest. + + + + + +XVI. + +APOCALYPSE. + +I'm wife; I've finished that, +That other state; +I'm Czar, I'm woman now: +It's safer so. + +How odd the girl's life looks +Behind this soft eclipse! +I think that earth seems so +To those in heaven now. + +This being comfort, then +That other kind was pain; +But why compare? +I'm wife! stop there! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE WIFE. + +She rose to his requirement, dropped +The playthings of her life +To take the honorable work +Of woman and of wife. + +If aught she missed in her new day +Of amplitude, or awe, +Or first prospective, or the gold +In using wore away, + +It lay unmentioned, as the sea +Develops pearl and weed, +But only to himself is known +The fathoms they abide. + + + + + +XVIII. + +APOTHEOSIS. + +Come slowly, Eden! +Lips unused to thee, +Bashful, sip thy jasmines, +As the fainting bee, + +Reaching late his flower, +Round her chamber hums, +Counts his nectars -- enters, +And is lost in balms! + + + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + +I. + +New feet within my garden go, +New fingers stir the sod; +A troubadour upon the elm +Betrays the solitude. + +New children play upon the green, +New weary sleep below; +And still the pensive spring returns, +And still the punctual snow! + + + + + +II. + +MAY-FLOWER. + +Pink, small, and punctual, +Aromatic, low, +Covert in April, +Candid in May, + +Dear to the moss, +Known by the knoll, +Next to the robin +In every human soul. + +Bold little beauty, +Bedecked with thee, +Nature forswears +Antiquity. + + + + + +III. + +WHY? + +The murmur of a bee +A witchcraft yieldeth me. +If any ask me why, +'T were easier to die +Than tell. + +The red upon the hill +Taketh away my will; +If anybody sneer, +Take care, for God is here, +That's all. + +The breaking of the day +Addeth to my degree; +If any ask me how, +Artist, who drew me so, +Must tell! + + + + + +IV. + +Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower? +But I could never sell. +If you would like to borrow +Until the daffodil + +Unties her yellow bonnet +Beneath the village door, +Until the bees, from clover rows +Their hock and sherry draw, + +Why, I will lend until just then, +But not an hour more! + + + + + +V. + +The pedigree of honey +Does not concern the bee; +A clover, any time, to him +Is aristocracy. + + + + + +VI. + +A SERVICE OF SONG. + +Some keep the Sabbath going to church; +I keep it staying at home, +With a bobolink for a chorister, +And an orchard for a dome. + +Some keep the Sabbath in surplice; +I just wear my wings, +And instead of tolling the bell for church, +Our little sexton sings. + +God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, -- +And the sermon is never long; +So instead of getting to heaven at last, +I'm going all along! + + + + + +VII. + +The bee is not afraid of me, +I know the butterfly; +The pretty people in the woods +Receive me cordially. + +The brooks laugh louder when I come, +The breezes madder play. +Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? +Wherefore, O summer's day? + + + + + +VIII. + +SUMMER'S ARMIES. + +Some rainbow coming from the fair! +Some vision of the world Cashmere +I confidently see! +Or else a peacock's purple train, +Feather by feather, on the plain +Fritters itself away! + +The dreamy butterflies bestir, +Lethargic pools resume the whir +Of last year's sundered tune. +From some old fortress on the sun +Baronial bees march, one by one, +In murmuring platoon! + +The robins stand as thick to-day +As flakes of snow stood yesterday, +On fence and roof and twig. +The orchis binds her feather on +For her old lover, Don the Sun, +Revisiting the bog! + +Without commander, countless, still, +The regiment of wood and hill +In bright detachment stand. +Behold! Whose multitudes are these? +The children of whose turbaned seas, +Or what Circassian land? + + + + + +IX. + +THE GRASS. + +The grass so little has to do, -- +A sphere of simple green, +With only butterflies to brood, +And bees to entertain, + +And stir all day to pretty tunes +The breezes fetch along, +And hold the sunshine in its lap +And bow to everything; + +And thread the dews all night, like pearls, +And make itself so fine, -- +A duchess were too common +For such a noticing. + +And even when it dies, to pass +In odors so divine, +As lowly spices gone to sleep, +Or amulets of pine. + +And then to dwell in sovereign barns, +And dream the days away, -- +The grass so little has to do, +I wish I were the hay! + + + + + +X. + +A little road not made of man, +Enabled of the eye, +Accessible to thill of bee, +Or cart of butterfly. + +If town it have, beyond itself, +'T is that I cannot say; +I only sigh, -- no vehicle +Bears me along that way. + + + + + +XI. + +SUMMER SHOWER. + +A drop fell on the apple tree, +Another on the roof; +A half a dozen kissed the eaves, +And made the gables laugh. + +A few went out to help the brook, +That went to help the sea. +Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, +What necklaces could be! + +The dust replaced in hoisted roads, +The birds jocoser sung; +The sunshine threw his hat away, +The orchards spangles hung. + +The breezes brought dejected lutes, +And bathed them in the glee; +The East put out a single flag, +And signed the fete away. + + + + + +XII. + +PSALM OF THE DAY. + +A something in a summer's day, +As slow her flambeaux burn away, +Which solemnizes me. + +A something in a summer's noon, -- +An azure depth, a wordless tune, +Transcending ecstasy. + +And still within a summer's night +A something so transporting bright, +I clap my hands to see; + +Then veil my too inspecting face, +Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace +Flutter too far for me. + +The wizard-fingers never rest, +The purple brook within the breast +Still chafes its narrow bed; + +Still rears the East her amber flag, +Guides still the sun along the crag +His caravan of red, + +Like flowers that heard the tale of dews, +But never deemed the dripping prize +Awaited their low brows; + +Or bees, that thought the summer's name +Some rumor of delirium +No summer could for them; + +Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred +By tropic hint, -- some travelled bird +Imported to the wood; + +Or wind's bright signal to the ear, +Making that homely and severe, +Contented, known, before + +The heaven unexpected came, +To lives that thought their worshipping +A too presumptuous psalm. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE SEA OF SUNSET. + +This is the land the sunset washes, +These are the banks of the Yellow Sea; +Where it rose, or whither it rushes, +These are the western mystery! + +Night after night her purple traffic +Strews the landing with opal bales; +Merchantmen poise upon horizons, +Dip, and vanish with fairy sails. + + + + + +XIV. + +PURPLE CLOVER. + +There is a flower that bees prefer, +And butterflies desire; +To gain the purple democrat +The humming-birds aspire. + +And whatsoever insect pass, +A honey bears away +Proportioned to his several dearth +And her capacity. + +Her face is rounder than the moon, +And ruddier than the gown +Of orchis in the pasture, +Or rhododendron worn. + +She doth not wait for June; +Before the world is green +Her sturdy little countenance +Against the wind is seen, + +Contending with the grass, +Near kinsman to herself, +For privilege of sod and sun, +Sweet litigants for life. + +And when the hills are full, +And newer fashions blow, +Doth not retract a single spice +For pang of jealousy. + +Her public is the noon, +Her providence the sun, +Her progress by the bee proclaimed +In sovereign, swerveless tune. + +The bravest of the host, +Surrendering the last, +Nor even of defeat aware +When cancelled by the frost. + + + + + +XV. + +THE BEE. + +Like trains of cars on tracks of plush +I hear the level bee: +A jar across the flowers goes, +Their velvet masonry + +Withstands until the sweet assault +Their chivalry consumes, +While he, victorious, tilts away +To vanquish other blooms. + +His feet are shod with gauze, +His helmet is of gold; +His breast, a single onyx +With chrysoprase, inlaid. + +His labor is a chant, +His idleness a tune; +Oh, for a bee's experience +Of clovers and of noon! + + + + + +XVI. + +Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn +Indicative that suns go down; +The notice to the startled grass +That darkness is about to pass. + + + + + +XVII. + +As children bid the guest good-night, +And then reluctant turn, +My flowers raise their pretty lips, +Then put their nightgowns on. + +As children caper when they wake, +Merry that it is morn, +My flowers from a hundred cribs +Will peep, and prance again. + + + + + +XVIII. + +Angels in the early morning +May be seen the dews among, +Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying: +Do the buds to them belong? + +Angels when the sun is hottest +May be seen the sands among, +Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying; +Parched the flowers they bear along. + + + + + +XIX. + +So bashful when I spied her, +So pretty, so ashamed! +So hidden in her leaflets, +Lest anybody find; + +So breathless till I passed her, +So helpless when I turned +And bore her, struggling, blushing, +Her simple haunts beyond! + +For whom I robbed the dingle, +For whom betrayed the dell, +Many will doubtless ask me, +But I shall never tell! + + + + + +XX. + +TWO WORLDS. + +It makes no difference abroad, +The seasons fit the same, +The mornings blossom into noons, +And split their pods of flame. + +Wild-flowers kindle in the woods, +The brooks brag all the day; +No blackbird bates his jargoning +For passing Calvary. + +Auto-da-fe and judgment +Are nothing to the bee; +His separation from his rose +To him seems misery. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOUNTAIN. + +The mountain sat upon the plain +In his eternal chair, +His observation omnifold, +His inquest everywhere. + +The seasons prayed around his knees, +Like children round a sire: +Grandfather of the days is he, +Of dawn the ancestor. + + + + + +XXII. + +A DAY. + +I'll tell you how the sun rose, -- +A ribbon at a time. +The steeples swam in amethyst, +The news like squirrels ran. + +The hills untied their bonnets, +The bobolinks begun. +Then I said softly to myself, +"That must have been the sun!" + + * * * + +But how he set, I know not. +There seemed a purple stile +Which little yellow boys and girls +Were climbing all the while + +Till when they reached the other side, +A dominie in gray +Put gently up the evening bars, +And led the flock away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The butterfly's assumption-gown, +In chrysoprase apartments hung, + This afternoon put on. + +How condescending to descend, +And be of buttercups the friend + In a New England town! + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE WIND. + +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 gods and me. + +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, +If such an outcast be, +He 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. + + + + + +XXV. + +DEATH AND LIFE. + +Apparently with no surprise +To any happy flower, +The frost beheads it at its play +In accidental power. +The blond assassin passes on, +The sun proceeds unmoved +To measure off another day +For an approving God. + + + + + +XXVI. + +'T WAS later when the summer went +Than when the cricket came, +And yet we knew that gentle clock +Meant nought but going home. + +'T was sooner when the cricket went +Than when the winter came, +Yet that pathetic pendulum +Keeps esoteric time. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INDIAN SUMMER. + +These are the days when birds come back, +A very few, a bird or two, +To take a backward look. + +These are the days when skies put on +The old, old sophistries of June, -- +A blue and gold mistake. + +Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, +Almost thy plausibility +Induces my belief, + +Till ranks of seeds their witness bear, +And softly through the altered air +Hurries a timid leaf! + +Oh, sacrament of summer days, +Oh, last communion in the haze, +Permit a child to join, + +Thy sacred emblems to partake, +Thy consecrated bread to break, +Taste thine immortal wine! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AUTUMN. + +The morns are meeker than they were, +The nuts are getting brown; +The berry's cheek is plumper, +The rose is out of town. + +The maple wears a gayer scarf, +The field a scarlet gown. +Lest I should be old-fashioned, +I'll put a trinket on. + + + + + +XXIX. + +BECLOUDED. + +The sky is low, the clouds are mean, +A travelling flake of snow +Across a barn or through a rut +Debates if it will go. + +A narrow wind complains all day +How some one treated him; +Nature, like us, is sometimes caught +Without her diadem. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE HEMLOCK. + +I think the hemlock likes to stand +Upon a marge of snow; +It suits his own austerity, +And satisfies an awe + +That men must slake in wilderness, +Or in the desert cloy, -- +An instinct for the hoar, the bald, +Lapland's necessity. + +The hemlock's nature thrives on cold; +The gnash of northern winds +Is sweetest nutriment to him, +His best Norwegian wines. + +To satin races he is nought; +But children on the Don +Beneath his tabernacles play, +And Dnieper wrestlers run. + + + + + +XXXI. + +There's a certain slant of light, +On winter afternoons, +That oppresses, like the weight +Of cathedral tunes. + +Heavenly hurt it gives us; +We can find no scar, +But internal difference +Where the meanings are. + +None may teach it anything, +'T is the seal, despair, -- +An imperial affliction +Sent us of the air. + +When it comes, the landscape listens, +Shadows hold their breath; +When it goes, 't is like the distance +On the look of death. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +One dignity delays for all, +One mitred afternoon. +None can avoid this purple, +None evade this crown. + +Coach it insures, and footmen, +Chamber and state and throng; +Bells, also, in the village, +As we ride grand along. + +What dignified attendants, +What service when we pause! +How loyally at parting +Their hundred hats they raise! + +How pomp surpassing ermine, +When simple you and I +Present our meek escutcheon, +And claim the rank to die! + + + + + +II. + +TOO LATE. + +Delayed till she had ceased to know, +Delayed till in its vest of snow + Her loving bosom lay. +An hour behind the fleeting breath, +Later by just an hour than death, -- + Oh, lagging yesterday! + +Could she have guessed that it would be; +Could but a crier of the glee + Have climbed the distant hill; +Had not the bliss so slow a pace, -- +Who knows but this surrendered face + Were undefeated still? + +Oh, if there may departing be +Any forgot by victory + In her imperial round, +Show them this meek apparelled thing, +That could not stop to be a king, + Doubtful if it be crowned! + + + + + +III. + +ASTRA CASTRA. + +Departed to the judgment, +A mighty afternoon; +Great clouds like ushers leaning, +Creation looking on. + +The flesh surrendered, cancelled, +The bodiless begun; +Two worlds, like audiences, disperse +And leave the soul alone. + + + + + +IV. + +Safe in their alabaster chambers, +Untouched by morning and untouched by noon, +Sleep the meek members of the resurrection, +Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. + +Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine; +Babbles the bee in a stolid ear; +Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence, -- +Ah, what sagacity perished here! + +Grand go the years in the crescent above them; +Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row, +Diadems drop and Doges surrender, +Soundless as dots on a disk of snow. + + + + + +V. + +On this long storm the rainbow rose, +On this late morn the sun; +The clouds, like listless elephants, +Horizons straggled down. + +The birds rose smiling in their nests, +The gales indeed were done; +Alas! how heedless were the eyes +On whom the summer shone! + +The quiet nonchalance of death +No daybreak can bestir; +The slow archangel's syllables +Must awaken her. + + + + + +VI. + +FROM THE CHRYSALIS. + +My cocoon tightens, colors tease, +I'm feeling for the air; +A dim capacity for wings +Degrades the dress I wear. + +A power of butterfly must be +The aptitude to fly, +Meadows of majesty concedes +And easy sweeps of sky. + +So I must baffle at the hint +And cipher at the sign, +And make much blunder, if at last +I take the clew divine. + + + + + +VII. + +SETTING SAIL. + +Exultation is the going +Of an inland soul to sea, -- +Past the houses, past the headlands, +Into deep eternity! + +Bred as we, among the mountains, +Can the sailor understand +The divine intoxication +Of the first league out from land? + + + + + +VIII. + +Look back on time with kindly eyes, +He doubtless did his best; +How softly sinks his trembling sun +In human nature's west! + + + + + +IX. + +A train went through a burial gate, +A bird broke forth and sang, +And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat +Till all the churchyard rang; + +And then adjusted his little notes, +And bowed and sang again. +Doubtless, he thought it meet of him +To say good-by to men. + + + + + +X. + +I died for beauty, but was scarce +Adjusted in the tomb, +When one who died for truth was lain +In an adjoining room. + +He questioned softly why I failed? +"For beauty," I replied. +"And I for truth, -- the two are one; +We brethren are," he said. + +And so, as kinsmen met a night, +We talked between the rooms, +Until the moss had reached our lips, +And covered up our names. + + + + + +XI. + +"TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS." + +How many times these low feet staggered, +Only the soldered mouth can tell; +Try! can you stir the awful rivet? +Try! can you lift the hasps of steel? + +Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often, +Lift, if you can, the listless hair; +Handle the adamantine fingers +Never a thimble more shall wear. + +Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window; +Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane; +Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling -- +Indolent housewife, in daisies lain! + + + + + +XII. + +REAL. + +I like a look of agony, +Because I know it 's true; +Men do not sham convulsion, +Nor simulate a throe. + +The eyes glaze once, and that is death. +Impossible to feign +The beads upon the forehead +By homely anguish strung. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE FUNERAL. + +That short, potential stir +That each can make but once, +That bustle so illustrious +'T is almost consequence, + +Is the eclat of death. +Oh, thou unknown renown +That not a beggar would accept, +Had he the power to spurn! + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to thank her, +But she slept; +Her bed a funnelled stone, +With nosegays at the head and foot, +That travellers had thrown, + +Who went to thank her; +But she slept. +'T was short to cross the sea +To look upon her like, alive, +But turning back 't was slow. + + + + + +XV. + +I've seen a dying eye +Run round and round a room +In search of something, as it seemed, +Then cloudier become; +And then, obscure with fog, +And then be soldered down, +Without disclosing what it be, +'T were blessed to have seen. + + + + + +XVI. + +REFUGE. + +The clouds their backs together laid, +The north begun to push, +The forests galloped till they fell, +The lightning skipped like mice; +The thunder crumbled like a stuff -- +How good to be safe in tombs, +Where nature's temper cannot reach, +Nor vengeance ever comes! + + + + + +XVII. + +I never saw a moor, +I never saw the sea; +Yet know I how the heather looks, +And what a wave must be. + +I never spoke with God, +Nor visited in heaven; +Yet certain am I of the spot +As if the chart were given. + + + + + +XVIII. + +PLAYMATES. + +God permits industrious angels +Afternoons to play. +I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, +All, for him, straightway. + +God calls home the angels promptly +At the setting sun; +I missed mine. How dreary marbles, +After playing Crown! + + + + + +XIX. + +To know just how he suffered would be dear; +To know if any human eyes were near +To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze, +Until it settled firm on Paradise. + +To know if he was patient, part content, +Was dying as he thought, or different; +Was it a pleasant day to die, +And did the sunshine face his way? + +What was his furthest mind, of home, or God, +Or what the distant say +At news that he ceased human nature +On such a day? + +And wishes, had he any? +Just his sigh, accented, +Had been legible to me. +And was he confident until +Ill fluttered out in everlasting well? + +And if he spoke, what name was best, +What first, +What one broke off with +At the drowsiest? + +Was he afraid, or tranquil? +Might he know +How conscious consciousness could grow, +Till love that was, and love too blest to be, +Meet -- and the junction be Eternity? + + + + + +XX. + +The last night that she lived, +It was a common night, +Except the dying; this to us +Made nature different. + +We noticed smallest things, -- +Things overlooked before, +By this great light upon our minds +Italicized, as 't were. + +That others could exist +While she must finish quite, +A jealousy for her arose +So nearly infinite. + +We waited while she passed; +It was a narrow time, +Too jostled were our souls to speak, +At length the notice came. + +She mentioned, and forgot; +Then lightly as a reed +Bent to the water, shivered scarce, +Consented, and was dead. + +And we, we placed the hair, +And drew the head erect; +And then an awful leisure was, +Our faith to regulate. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE FIRST LESSON. + +Not in this world to see his face +Sounds long, until I read the place +Where this is said to be +But just the primer to a life +Unopened, rare, upon the shelf, +Clasped yet to him and me. + +And yet, my primer suits me so +I would not choose a book to know +Than that, be sweeter wise; +Might some one else so learned be, +And leave me just my A B C, +Himself could have the skies. + + + + + +XXII. + +The bustle in a house +The morning after death +Is solemnest of industries +Enacted upon earth, -- + +The sweeping up the heart, +And putting love away +We shall not want to use again +Until eternity. + + + + + +XXIII. + +I reason, earth is short, +And anguish absolute, +And many hurt; +But what of that? + +I reason, we could die: +The best vitality +Cannot excel decay; +But what of that? + +I reason that in heaven +Somehow, it will be even, +Some new equation given; +But what of that? + + + + + +XXIV. + +Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? +Not death; for who is he? +The porter of my father's lodge +As much abasheth me. + +Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing +That comprehendeth me +In one or more existences +At Deity's decree. + +Of resurrection? Is the east +Afraid to trust the morn +With her fastidious forehead? +As soon impeach my crown! + + + + + +XXV. + +DYING. + +The sun kept setting, setting still; +No hue of afternoon +Upon the village I perceived, -- +From house to house 't was noon. + +The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; +No dew upon the grass, +But only on my forehead stopped, +And wandered in my face. + +My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, +My fingers were awake; +Yet why so little sound myself +Unto my seeming make? + +How well I knew the light before! +I could not see it now. +'T is dying, I am doing; but +I'm not afraid to know. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Two swimmers wrestled on the spar +Until the morning sun, +When one turned smiling to the land. +O God, the other one! + +The stray ships passing spied a face +Upon the waters borne, +With eyes in death still begging raised, +And hands beseeching thrown. + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE CHARIOT. + +Because I could not stop for Death, +He kindly stopped for me; +The carriage held but just ourselves +And Immortality. + +We slowly drove, he knew no haste, +And I had put away +My labor, and my leisure too, +For his civility. + +We passed the school where children played, +Their lessons scarcely done; +We passed the fields of gazing grain, +We passed the setting sun. + +We paused before a house that seemed +A swelling of the ground; +The roof was scarcely visible, +The cornice but a mound. + +Since then 't is centuries; but each +Feels shorter than the day +I first surmised the horses' heads +Were toward eternity. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +She went as quiet as the dew +From a familiar flower. +Not like the dew did she return +At the accustomed hour! + +She dropt as softly as a star +From out my summer's eve; +Less skilful than Leverrier +It's sorer to believe! + + + + + +XXIX. + +RESURGAM. + +At last to be identified! +At last, the lamps upon thy side, +The rest of life to see! +Past midnight, past the morning star! +Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are +Between our feet and day! + + + + + +XXX. + +Except to heaven, she is nought; +Except for angels, lone; +Except to some wide-wandering bee, +A flower superfluous blown; + +Except for winds, provincial; +Except by butterflies, +Unnoticed as a single dew +That on the acre lies. + +The smallest housewife in the grass, +Yet take her from the lawn, +And somebody has lost the face +That made existence home! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Death is a dialogue between +The spirit and the dust. +"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir, +I have another trust." + +Death doubts it, argues from the ground. +The Spirit turns away, +Just laying off, for evidence, +An overcoat of clay. + + + + + +XXXII. + +It was too late for man, +But early yet for God; +Creation impotent to help, +But prayer remained our side. + +How excellent the heaven, +When earth cannot be had; +How hospitable, then, the face +Of our old neighbor, God! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +ALONG THE POTOMAC. + +When I was small, a woman died. +To-day her only boy +Went up from the Potomac, +His face all victory, + +To look at her; how slowly +The seasons must have turned +Till bullets clipt an angle, +And he passed quickly round! + +If pride shall be in Paradise +I never can decide; +Of their imperial conduct, +No person testified. + +But proud in apparition, +That woman and her boy +Pass back and forth before my brain, +As ever in the sky. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +The daisy follows soft the sun, +And when his golden walk is done, + Sits shyly at his feet. +He, waking, finds the flower near. +"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" + "Because, sir, love is sweet!" + +We are the flower, Thou the sun! +Forgive us, if as days decline, + We nearer steal to Thee, -- +Enamoured of the parting west, +The peace, the flight, the amethyst, + Night's possibility! + + + + + +XXXV. + +EMANCIPATION. + +No rack can torture me, +My soul's at liberty +Behind this mortal bone +There knits a bolder one + +You cannot prick with saw, +Nor rend with scymitar. +Two bodies therefore be; +Bind one, and one will flee. + +The eagle of his nest +No easier divest +And gain the sky, +Than mayest thou, + +Except thyself may be +Thine enemy; +Captivity is consciousness, +So's liberty. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST. + +I lost a world the other day. +Has anybody found? +You'll know it by the row of stars +Around its forehead bound. + +A rich man might not notice it; +Yet to my frugal eye +Of more esteem than ducats. +Oh, find it, sir, for me! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +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! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +Sleep is supposed to be, +By souls of sanity, +The shutting of the eye. + +Sleep is the station grand +Down which on either hand +The hosts of witness stand! + +Morn is supposed to be, +By people of degree, +The breaking of the day. + +Morning has not occurred! +That shall aurora be +East of eternity; + +One with the banner gay, +One in the red array, -- +That is the break of day. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +I shall know why, when time is over, +And I have ceased to wonder why; +Christ will explain each separate anguish +In the fair schoolroom of the sky. + +He will tell me what Peter promised, +And I, for wonder at his woe, +I shall forget the drop of anguish +That scalds me now, that scalds me now. + + + + + +XL. + +I never lost as much but twice, +And that was in the sod; +Twice have I stood a beggar +Before the door of God! + +Angels, twice descending, +Reimbursed my store. +Burglar, banker, father, +I am poor once more! + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Second Series + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE + +The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily Dickinson's +poems has been read shows very clearly that all our alleged modern +artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation of the +qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the greatest +themes,--life and love and death. That "irresistible needle-touch," +as one of her best critics has called it, piercing at once the very +core of a thought, has found a response as wide and sympathetic as +it has been unexpected even to those who knew best her compelling +power. This second volume, while open to the same criticism as to +form with its predecessor, shows also the same shining beauties. + +Although Emily Dickinson had been in the habit of sending +occasional poems to friends and correspondents, the full extent of +her writing was by no means imagined by them. Her friend "H.H." +must at least have suspected it, for in a letter dated 5th +September, 1884, she wrote:-- + + +MY DEAR FRIEND,-- What portfolios full of verses +you must have! It is a cruel wrong to your "day and +generation" that you will not give them light. + +If such a thing should happen as that I should outlive +you, I wish you would make me your literary legatee +and executor. Surely after you are what is called +"dead" you will be willing that the poor ghosts you +have left behind should be cheered and pleased by your +verses, will you not? You ought to be. I do not think +we have a right to withhold from the world a word or +a thought any more than a deed which might help a +single soul. . . . + + Truly yours, + + HELEN JACKSON. + + +The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death, +by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most of the poems had +been carefully copied on sheets of note-paper, and tied in little +fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many of them bear +evidence of having been thrown off at white heat, still more had +received thoughtful revision. There is the frequent addition of +rather perplexing foot-notes, affording large choice of words and +phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends, sometimes one +form, sometimes another, is found to have been used. Without +important exception, her friends have generously placed at the +disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and +these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among several +renderings of the same verse. + +To what further rigorous pruning her verses would have been +subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know. They +should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong and +suggestive sketches of an artist, intended to be embodied at some +time in the finished picture. + +Emily Dickinson appears to have written her first poems in the +winter of 1862. In a letter to oone of the present Editors the +April following, she says, "I made no verse, but one or two, until +this winter." + +The handwriting was at first somewhat like the delicate, running +Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she advanced in +breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt, until in her +latest years each letter stood distinct and separate from its +fellows. In most of her poems, particularly the later ones, +everything by way of punctuation was discarded, except numerous +dashes; and all important words began with capitals. The effect of +a page of her more recent manuscript is exceedingly quaint and +strong. The fac-simile given in the present volume is from one of +the earlier transition periods. Although there is nowhere a date, +the handwriting makes it possible to arrange the poems with general +chronologic accuracy. + +As a rule, the verses were without titles; but "A Country Burial," +"A Thunder-Storm," "The Humming-Bird," and a few others were named +by their author, frequently at the end,--sometimes only in the +accompanying note, if sent to a friend. + +The variation of readings, with the fact that she often wrote in +pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown a good deal of +responsibility upon her Editors. But all interference not +absolutely inevitable has been avoided. The very roughness of her +rendering is part of herself, and not lightly to be touched; for it +seems in many cases that she intentionally avoided the smoother and +more usual rhymes. + +Like impressionist pictures, or Wagner's rugged music, the very +absence of conventional form challenges attention. In Emily +Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic fitness of a +particular order of words might not be sacrificed to anything +virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange cadence of +inner rhythmical music. Lines are always daringly constructed, and +the "thought-rhyme" appears frequently,--appealing, indeed, to an +unrecognized sense more elusive than hearing. + +Emily Dickinson scrutinized everything with clear-eyed frankness. +Every subject was proper ground for legitimate study, even the +sombre facts of death and burial, and the unknown life beyond. She +touches these themes sometimes lightly, sometimes almost +humorously, more often with weird and peculiar power; but she is +never by any chance frivolous or trivial. And while, as one critic +has said, she may exhibit toward God "an Emersonian self-possession," +it was because she looked upon all life with a candor as unprejudiced +as it is rare. + +She had tried society and the world, and found them lacking. She +was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no +love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature +introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist +in pretence. + +Storm, wind, the wild March sky, sunsets and dawns; the birds and +bees, butterflies and flowers of her garden, with a few trusted +human friends, were sufficient companionship. The coming of the +first robin was a jubilee beyond crowning of monarch or birthday of +pope; the first red leaf hurrying through "the altered air," an +epoch. Immortality was close about her; and while never morbid or +melancholy, she lived in its presence. + + MABEL LOOMIS TODD. + + AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS, + August, I891. + + + + + + + + + + + + My nosegays are for captives; + Dim, long-expectant eyes, + Fingers denied the plucking, + Patient till paradise, + + To such, if they should whisper + Of morning and the moor, + They bear no other errand, + And I, no other prayer. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +I'm nobody! Who are you? +Are you nobody, too? +Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell! +They 'd banish us, you know. + +How dreary to be somebody! +How public, like a frog +To tell your name the livelong day +To an admiring bog! + + + + + +II. + +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. + + + + + +III. + +The nearest dream recedes, unrealized. + The heaven we chase + Like the June bee + Before the school-boy + Invites the race; + Stoops to an easy clover -- +Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys; + Then to the royal clouds + Lifts his light pinnace + Heedless of the boy +Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky. + + Homesick for steadfast honey, + Ah! the bee flies not +That brews that rare variety. + + + + + +IV. + +We play at paste, +Till qualified for pearl, +Then drop the paste, +And deem ourself a fool. +The shapes, though, were similar, +And our new hands +Learned gem-tactics +Practising sands. + + + + + +V. + +I found the phrase to every thought +I ever had, but one; +And that defies me, -- as a hand +Did try to chalk the sun + +To races nurtured in the dark; -- +How would your own begin? +Can blaze be done in cochineal, +Or noon in mazarin? + + + + + +VI. + +HOPE. + +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. + + + + + +VII. + +THE WHITE HEAT. + +Dare you see a soul at the white heat? + Then crouch within the door. +Red is the fire's common tint; + But when the vivid ore + +Has sated flame's conditions, + Its quivering substance plays +Without a color but the light + Of unanointed blaze. + +Least village boasts its blacksmith, + Whose anvil's even din +Stands symbol for the finer forge + That soundless tugs within, + +Refining these impatient ores + With hammer and with blaze, +Until the designated light + Repudiate the forge. + + + + + +VIII. + +TRIUMPHANT. + +Who never lost, are unprepared +A coronet to find; +Who never thirsted, flagons +And cooling tamarind. + +Who never climbed the weary league -- +Can such a foot explore +The purple territories +On Pizarro's shore? + +How many legions overcome? +The emperor will say. +How many colors taken +On Revolution Day? + +How many bullets bearest? +The royal scar hast thou? +Angels, write "Promoted" +On this soldier's brow! + + + + + +IX. + +THE TEST. + +I can wade grief, +Whole pools of it, -- +I 'm used to that. +But the least push of joy +Breaks up my feet, +And I tip -- drunken. +Let no pebble smile, +'T was the new liquor, -- +That was all! + +Power is only pain, +Stranded, through discipline, +Till weights will hang. +Give balm to giants, +And they 'll wilt, like men. +Give Himmaleh, -- +They 'll carry him! + + + + + +X. + +ESCAPE. + +I never hear the word "escape" +Without a quicker blood, +A sudden expectation, +A flying attitude. + +I never hear of prisons broad +By soldiers battered down, +But I tug childish at my bars, -- +Only to fail again! + + + + + + +XI. + +COMPENSATION. + +For each ecstatic instant +We must an anguish pay +In keen and quivering ratio +To the ecstasy. + +For each beloved hour +Sharp pittances of years, +Bitter contested farthings +And coffers heaped with tears. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MARTYRS. + +Through the straight pass of suffering +The martyrs even trod, +Their feet upon temptation, +Their faces upon God. + +A stately, shriven company; +Convulsion playing round, +Harmless as streaks of meteor +Upon a planet's bound. + +Their faith the everlasting troth; +Their expectation fair; +The needle to the north degree +Wades so, through polar air. + + + + + +XIII. + +A PRAYER. + +I meant to have but modest needs, +Such as content, and heaven; +Within my income these could lie, +And life and I keep even. + +But since the last included both, +It would suffice my prayer +But just for one to stipulate, +And grace would grant the pair. + +And so, upon this wise I prayed, -- +Great Spirit, give to me +A heaven not so large as yours, +But large enough for me. + +A smile suffused Jehovah's face; +The cherubim withdrew; +Grave saints stole out to look at me, +And showed their dimples, too. + +I left the place with all my might, -- +My prayer away I threw; +The quiet ages picked it up, +And Judgment twinkled, too, + +That one so honest be extant +As take the tale for true +That "Whatsoever you shall ask, +Itself be given you." + +But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies +With a suspicious air, -- +As children, swindled for the first, +All swindlers be, infer. + + + + + +XIV. + +The thought beneath so slight a film +Is more distinctly seen, -- +As laces just reveal the surge, +Or mists the Apennine. + + + + + +XV. + +The soul unto itself +Is an imperial friend, -- +Or the most agonizing spy +An enemy could send. + +Secure against its own, +No treason it can fear; +Itself its sovereign, of itself +The soul should stand in awe. + + + + + +XVI. + +Surgeons must be very careful +When they take the knife! +Underneath their fine incisions +Stirs the culprit, -- Life! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE RAILWAY TRAIN. + +I like to see it lap the miles, +And lick the valleys up, +And stop to feed itself at tanks; +And then, prodigious, step + +Around a pile of mountains, +And, supercilious, peer +In shanties by the sides of roads; +And then a quarry pare + +To fit its sides, and crawl between, +Complaining all the while +In horrid, hooting stanza; +Then chase itself down hill + +And neigh like Boanerges; +Then, punctual as a star, +Stop -- docile and omnipotent -- +At its own stable door. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SHOW. + +The show is not the show, +But they that go. +Menagerie to me +My neighbor be. +Fair play -- +Both went to see. + + + + + +XIX. + +Delight becomes pictorial +When viewed through pain, -- +More fair, because impossible +That any gain. + +The mountain at a given distance +In amber lies; +Approached, the amber flits a little, -- +And that 's the skies! + + + + + +XX. + +A thought went up my mind to-day +That I have had before, +But did not finish, -- some way back, +I could not fix the year, + +Nor where it went, nor why it came +The second time to me, +Nor definitely what it was, +Have I the art to say. + +But somewhere in my soul, I know +I 've met the thing before; +It just reminded me -- 't was all -- +And came my way no more. + + + + + +XXI. + +Is Heaven a physician? +They say that He can heal, +But medicine posthumous + Is unavailable. + +Is Heaven an exchequer? + They speak of what we owe; +But that negotiation + I 'm not a party to. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE RETURN. + +Though I get home how late, how late! +So I get home, 't will compensate. +Better will be the ecstasy +That they have done expecting me, +When, night descending, dumb and dark, +They hear my unexpected knock. +Transporting must the moment be, +Brewed from decades of agony! + +To think just how the fire will burn, +Just how long-cheated eyes will turn +To wonder what myself will say, +And what itself will say to me, +Beguiles the centuries of way! + + + + + +XXIII. + +A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, +That sat it down to rest, +Nor noticed that the ebbing day +Flowed silver to the west, +Nor noticed night did soft descend +Nor constellation burn, +Intent upon the vision +Of latitudes unknown. + +The angels, happening that way, +This dusty heart espied; +Tenderly took it up from toil +And carried it to God. +There, -- sandals for the barefoot; +There, -- gathered from the gales, +Do the blue havens by the hand +Lead the wandering sails. + + + + + +XXIV. + +TOO MUCH. + +I should have been too glad, I see, +Too lifted for the scant degree + Of life's penurious round; +My little circuit would have shamed +This new circumference, have blamed + The homelier time behind. + +I should have been too saved, I see, +Too rescued; fear too dim to me + That I could spell the prayer +I knew so perfect yesterday, -- +That scalding one, "Sabachthani," + Recited fluent here. + +Earth would have been too much, I see, +And heaven not enough for me; + I should have had the joy +Without the fear to justify, -- +The palm without the Calvary; + So, Saviour, crucify. + +Defeat whets victory, they say; +The reefs in old Gethsemane + Endear the shore beyond. +'T is beggars banquets best define; +'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, -- + Faith faints to understand. + + + + + +XXV. + +SHIPWRECK. + +It tossed and tossed, -- +A little brig I knew, -- +O'ertook by blast, +It spun and spun, +And groped delirious, for morn. + +It slipped and slipped, +As one that drunken stepped; +Its white foot tripped, +Then dropped from sight. + +Ah, brig, good-night +To crew and you; +The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue, +To break for you. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Victory comes late, +And is held low to freezing lips +Too rapt with frost +To take it. +How sweet it would have tasted, +Just a drop! +Was God so economical? +His table 's spread too high for us +Unless we dine on tip-toe. +Crumbs fit such little mouths, +Cherries suit robins; +The eagle's golden breakfast +Strangles them. +God keeps his oath to sparrows, +Who of little love +Know how to starve! + + + + + +XXVII. + +ENOUGH. + +God gave a loaf to every bird, +But just a crumb to me; +I dare not eat it, though I starve, -- +My poignant luxury +To own it, touch it, prove the feat +That made the pellet mine, -- +Too happy in my sparrow chance +For ampler coveting. + +It might be famine all around, +I could not miss an ear, +Such plenty smiles upon my board, +My garner shows so fair. +I wonder how the rich may feel, -- +An Indiaman -- an Earl? +I deem that I with but a crumb +Am sovereign of them all. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +Experiment to me +Is every one I meet. +If it contain a kernel? +The figure of a nut + +Presents upon a tree, +Equally plausibly; +But meat within is requisite, +To squirrels and to me. + + + + + +XXIX. + +MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE. + +My country need not change her gown, +Her triple suit as sweet +As when 't was cut at Lexington, +And first pronounced "a fit." + +Great Britain disapproves "the stars;" +Disparagement discreet, -- +There 's something in their attitude +That taunts her bayonet. + + + + + +XXX. + +Faith is a fine invention +For gentlemen who see; +But microscopes are prudent +In an emergency! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Except the heaven had come so near, +So seemed to choose my door, +The distance would not haunt me so; +I had not hoped before. + +But just to hear the grace depart +I never thought to see, +Afflicts me with a double loss; +'T is lost, and lost to me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +Portraits are to daily faces +As an evening west +To a fine, pedantic sunshine +In a satin vest. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +THE DUEL. + +I took my power in my hand. +And went against the world; +'T was not so much as David had, +But I was twice as bold. + +I aimed my pebble, but myself +Was all the one that fell. +Was it Goliath was too large, +Or only I too small? + + + + + +XXXIV. + +A shady friend for torrid days +Is easier to find +Than one of higher temperature +For frigid hour of mind. + +The vane a little to the east +Scares muslin souls away; +If broadcloth breasts are firmer +Than those of organdy, + +Who is to blame? The weaver? +Ah! the bewildering thread! +The tapestries of paradise +So notelessly are made! + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE GOAL. + +Each life converges to some centre +Expressed or still; +Exists in every human nature +A goal, + +Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be, +Too fair +For credibility's temerity +To dare. + +Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven, +To reach +Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment +To touch, + +Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance; +How high +Unto the saints' slow diligence +The sky! + +Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture, +But then, +Eternity enables the endeavoring +Again. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +SIGHT. + +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, to-day, +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 lightning's jointed 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. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +Talk with prudence to a beggar +Of 'Potosi' and the mines! +Reverently to the hungry +Of your viands and your wines! + +Cautious, hint to any captive +You have passed enfranchised feet! +Anecdotes of air in dungeons +Have sometimes proved deadly sweet! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +THE PREACHER. + +He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, -- +The broad are too broad to define; +And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, -- +The truth never flaunted a sign. + +Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence +As gold the pyrites would shun. +What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus +To meet so enabled a man! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Good night! which put the candle out? +A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. + Ah! friend, you little knew +How long at that celestial wick +The angels labored diligent; + Extinguished, now, for you! + +It might have been the lighthouse spark +Some sailor, rowing in the dark, + Had importuned to see! +It might have been the waning lamp +That lit the drummer from the camp + To purer reveille! + + + + + +XL. + +When I hoped I feared, +Since I hoped I dared; +Everywhere alone +As a church remain; +Spectre cannot harm, +Serpent cannot charm; +He deposes doom, +Who hath suffered him. + + + + + +XLI. + +DEED. + +A deed knocks first at thought, +And then it knocks at will. +That is the manufacturing spot, +And will at home and well. + +It then goes out an act, +Or is entombed so still +That only to the ear of God +Its doom is audible. + + + + + +XLII. + +TIME'S LESSON. + +Mine enemy is growing old, -- +I have at last revenge. +The palate of the hate departs; +If any would avenge, -- + +Let him be quick, the viand flits, +It is a faded meat. +Anger as soon as fed is dead; +'T is starving makes it fat. + + + + + +XLIII. + +REMORSE. + +Remorse is memory awake, +Her companies astir, -- +A presence of departed acts +At window and at door. + +It's past set down before the soul, +And lighted with a match, +Perusal to facilitate +Of its condensed despatch. + +Remorse is cureless, -- the disease +Not even God can heal; +For 't is his institution, -- +The complement of hell. + + + + + +XLIV. + +THE SHELTER. + +The body grows outside, -- +The more convenient way, -- +That if the spirit like to hide, +Its temple stands alway + +Ajar, secure, inviting; +It never did betray +The soul that asked its shelter +In timid honesty. + + + + + +XLV. + +Undue significance a starving man attaches +To food +Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless, +And therefore good. + +Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us +That spices fly +In the receipt. It was the distance +Was savory. + + + + + +XLVI. + +Heart not so heavy as mine, +Wending late home, +As it passed my window +Whistled itself a tune, -- + +A careless snatch, a ballad, +A ditty of the street; +Yet to my irritated ear +An anodyne so sweet, + +It was as if a bobolink, +Sauntering this way, +Carolled and mused and carolled, +Then bubbled slow away. + +It was as if a chirping brook +Upon a toilsome way +Set bleeding feet to minuets +Without the knowing why. + +To-morrow, night will come again, +Weary, perhaps, and sore. +Ah, bugle, by my window, +I pray you stroll once more! + + + + + +XLVII. + +I many times thought peace had come, +When peace was far away; +As wrecked men deem they sight the land +At centre of the sea, + +And struggle slacker, but to prove, +As hopelessly as I, +How many the fictitious shores +Before the harbor lie. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +Unto my books so good to turn +Far ends of tired days; +It half endears the abstinence, +And pain is missed in praise. + +As flavors cheer retarded guests +With banquetings to be, +So spices stimulate the time +Till my small library. + +It may be wilderness without, +Far feet of failing men, +But holiday excludes the night, +And it is bells within. + +I thank these kinsmen of the shelf; +Their countenances bland +Enamour in prospective, +And satisfy, obtained. + + + + + +XLIX. + +This merit hath the worst, -- +It cannot be again. +When Fate hath taunted last +And thrown her furthest stone, + +The maimed may pause and breathe, +And glance securely round. +The deer invites no longer +Than it eludes the hound. + + + + + +L. + +HUNGER. + +I had been hungry all the years; +My noon had come, to dine; +I, trembling, drew the table near, +And touched the curious wine. + +'T was this on tables I had seen, +When turning, hungry, lone, +I looked in windows, for the wealth +I could not hope to own. + +I did not know the ample bread, +'T was so unlike the crumb +The birds and I had often shared +In Nature's dining-room. + +The plenty hurt me, 't was so new, -- +Myself felt ill and odd, +As berry of a mountain bush +Transplanted to the road. + +Nor was I hungry; so I found +That hunger was a way +Of persons outside windows, +The entering takes away. + + + + + +LI. + +I gained it so, + By climbing slow, +By catching at the twigs that grow +Between the bliss and me. + It hung so high, + As well the sky + Attempt by strategy. + + +I said I gained it, -- + This was all. +Look, how I clutch it, + Lest it fall, +And I a pauper go; +Unfitted by an instant's grace +For the contented beggar's face +I wore an hour ago. + + + + + +LII. + +To learn the transport by the pain, +As blind men learn the sun; +To die of thirst, suspecting +That brooks in meadows run; + +To stay the homesick, homesick feet +Upon a foreign shore +Haunted by native lands, the while, +And blue, beloved air -- + +This is the sovereign anguish, +This, the signal woe! +These are the patient laureates +Whose voices, trained below, + +Ascend in ceaseless carol, +Inaudible, indeed, +To us, the duller scholars +Of the mysterious bard! + + + + + +LIII. + +RETURNING. + +I years had been from home, +And now, before the door, +I dared not open, lest a face +I never saw before + +Stare vacant into mine +And ask my business there. +My business, -- just a life I left, +Was such still dwelling there? + +I fumbled at my nerve, +I scanned the windows near; +The silence like an ocean rolled, +And broke against my ear. + +I laughed a wooden laugh +That I could fear a door, +Who danger and the dead had faced, +But never quaked before. + +I fitted to the latch +My hand, with trembling care, +Lest back the awful door should spring, +And leave me standing there. + +I moved my fingers off +As cautiously as glass, +And held my ears, and like a thief +Fled gasping from the house. + + + + + +LIV. + +PRAYER. + +Prayer is the little implement +Through which men reach +Where presence is denied them. +They fling their speech + +By means of it in God's ear; +If then He hear, +This sums the apparatus +Comprised in prayer. + + + + + +LV. + +I know that he exists +Somewhere, in silence. +He has hid his rare life +From our gross eyes. + +'T is an instant's play, +'T is a fond ambush, +Just to make bliss +Earn her own surprise! + +But should the play +Prove piercing earnest, +Should the glee glaze +In death's stiff stare, + +Would not the fun +Look too expensive? +Would not the jest +Have crawled too far? + + + + + +LVI. + +MELODIES UNHEARD. + +Musicians wrestle everywhere: +All day, among the crowded air, + I hear the silver strife; +And -- waking long before the dawn -- +Such transport breaks upon the town + I think it that "new life!" + +It is not bird, it has no nest; +Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed, + Nor tambourine, nor man; +It is not hymn from pulpit read, -- +The morning stars the treble led + On time's first afternoon! + +Some say it is the spheres at play! +Some say that bright majority + Of vanished dames and men! +Some think it service in the place +Where we, with late, celestial face, + Please God, shall ascertain! + + + + + +LVII. + +CALLED BACK. + +Just lost when I was saved! +Just felt the world go by! +Just girt me for the onset with eternity, +When breath blew back, +And on the other side +I heard recede the disappointed tide! + +Therefore, as one returned, I feel, +Odd secrets of the line to tell! +Some sailor, skirting foreign shores, +Some pale reporter from the awful doors +Before the seal! + +Next time, to stay! +Next time, the things to see +By ear unheard, +Unscrutinized by eye. + +Next time, to tarry, +While the ages steal, -- +Slow tramp the centuries, +And the cycles wheel. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CHOICE. + +Of all the souls that stand create +I have elected one. +When sense from spirit files away, +And subterfuge is done; + +When that which is and that which was +Apart, intrinsic, stand, +And this brief tragedy of flesh +Is shifted like a sand; + +When figures show their royal front +And mists are carved away, -- +Behold the atom I preferred +To all the lists of clay! + + + + + +II. + +I have no life but this, +To lead it here; +Nor any death, but lest +Dispelled from there; + +Nor tie to earths to come, +Nor action new, +Except through this extent, +The realm of you. + + + + + +III. + +Your riches taught me poverty. +Myself a millionnaire +In little wealths, -- as girls could boast, -- +Till broad as Buenos Ayre, + +You drifted your dominions +A different Peru; +And I esteemed all poverty, +For life's estate with you. + +Of mines I little know, myself, +But just the names of gems, -- +The colors of the commonest; +And scarce of diadems + +So much that, did I meet the queen, +Her glory I should know: +But this must be a different wealth, +To miss it beggars so. + +I 'm sure 't is India all day +To those who look on you +Without a stint, without a blame, -- +Might I but be the Jew! + +I 'm sure it is Golconda, +Beyond my power to deem, -- +To have a smile for mine each day, +How better than a gem! + +At least, it solaces to know +That there exists a gold, +Although I prove it just in time +Its distance to behold! + +It 's far, far treasure to surmise, +And estimate the pearl +That slipped my simple fingers through +While just a girl at school! + + + + + +IV. + +THE CONTRACT. + +I gave myself to him, +And took himself for pay. +The solemn contract of a life +Was ratified this way. + +The wealth might disappoint, +Myself a poorer prove +Than this great purchaser suspect, +The daily own of Love + +Depreciate the vision; +But, till the merchant buy, +Still fable, in the isles of spice, +The subtle cargoes lie. + +At least, 't is mutual risk, -- +Some found it mutual gain; +Sweet debt of Life, -- each night to owe, +Insolvent, every noon. + + + + + +V. + +THE LETTER. + +"GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him -- +Tell him the page I didn't write; +Tell him I only said the syntax, +And left the verb and the pronoun out. +Tell him just how the fingers hurried, +Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow; +And then you wished you had eyes in your pages, +So you could see what moved them so. + +"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer, +You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled; +You could hear the bodice tug, behind you, +As if it held but the might of a child; +You almost pitied it, you, it worked so. +Tell him -- No, you may quibble there, +For it would split his heart to know it, +And then you and I were silenter. + +"Tell him night finished before we finished, +And the old clock kept neighing 'day!' +And you got sleepy and begged to be ended -- +What could it hinder so, to say? +Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious, +But if he ask where you are hid +Until to-morrow, -- happy letter! +Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!" + + + + + +VI. + +The way I read a letter 's this: +'T is first I lock the door, +And push it with my fingers next, +For transport it be sure. + +And then I go the furthest off +To counteract a knock; +Then draw my little letter forth +And softly pick its lock. + +Then, glancing narrow at the wall, +And narrow at the floor, +For firm conviction of a mouse +Not exorcised before, + +Peruse how infinite I am +To -- no one that you know! +And sigh for lack of heaven, -- but not +The heaven the creeds bestow. + + + + + +VII. + +Wild nights! Wild nights! +Were I with thee, +Wild nights should be +Our luxury! + +Futile the winds +To a heart in port, -- +Done with the compass, +Done with the chart. + +Rowing in Eden! +Ah! the sea! +Might I but moor +To-night in thee! + + + + + +VIII. + +AT HOME. + +The night was wide, and furnished scant +With but a single star, +That often as a cloud it met +Blew out itself for fear. + +The wind pursued the little bush, +And drove away the leaves +November left; then clambered up +And fretted in the eaves. + +No squirrel went abroad; +A dog's belated feet +Like intermittent plush were heard +Adown the empty street. + +To feel if blinds be fast, +And closer to the fire +Her little rocking-chair to draw, +And shiver for the poor, + +The housewife's gentle task. +"How pleasanter," said she +Unto the sofa opposite, +"The sleet than May -- no thee!" + + + + + +IX. + +POSSESSION. + +Did the harebell loose her girdle +To the lover bee, +Would the bee the harebell hallow +Much as formerly? + +Did the paradise, persuaded, +Yield her moat of pearl, +Would the Eden be an Eden, +Or the earl an earl? + + + + + +X. + +A charm invests a face +Imperfectly beheld, -- +The lady dare not lift her veil +For fear it be dispelled. + +But peers beyond her mesh, +And wishes, and denies, -- +Lest interview annul a want +That image satisfies. + + + + + +XI. + +THE LOVERS. + +The rose did caper on her cheek, +Her bodice rose and fell, +Her pretty speech, like drunken men, +Did stagger pitiful. + +Her fingers fumbled at her work, -- +Her needle would not go; +What ailed so smart a little maid +It puzzled me to know, + +Till opposite I spied a cheek +That bore another rose; +Just opposite, another speech +That like the drunkard goes; + +A vest that, like the bodice, danced +To the immortal tune, -- +Till those two troubled little clocks +Ticked softly into one. + + + + + +XII. + +In lands I never saw, they say, +Immortal Alps look down, +Whose bonnets touch the firmament, +Whose sandals touch the town, -- + +Meek at whose everlasting feet +A myriad daisies play. +Which, sir, are you, and which am I, +Upon an August day? + + + + + +XIII. + +The moon is distant from the sea, +And yet with amber hands +She leads him, docile as a boy, +Along appointed sands. + +He never misses a degree; +Obedient to her eye, +He comes just so far toward the town, +Just so far goes away. + +Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand, +And mine the distant sea, -- +Obedient to the least command +Thine eyes impose on me. + + + + + +XIV. + +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, knew you not +For whom I must decline? + + + + + +XV. + +THE LOST JEWEL. + +I held a jewel in my fingers +And went to sleep. +The day was warm, and winds were prosy; +I said: "'T will keep." + +I woke and chid my honest fingers, -- +The gem was gone; +And now an amethyst remembrance +Is all I own. + + + + + +XVI. + +What if I say I shall not wait? +What if I burst the fleshly gate +And pass, escaped, to thee? +What if I file this mortal off, +See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, -- +And wade in liberty? + +They cannot take us any more, -- +Dungeons may call, and guns implore; +Unmeaning now, to me, +As laughter was an hour ago, +Or laces, or a travelling show, +Or who died yesterday! + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +MOTHER NATURE. + +Nature, the gentlest mother, +Impatient of no child, +The feeblest or the waywardest, -- +Her admonition mild + +In forest and the hill +By traveller is heard, +Restraining rampant squirrel +Or too impetuous bird. + +How fair her conversation, +A summer afternoon, -- +Her household, her assembly; +And when the sun goes down + +Her voice among the aisles +Incites the timid prayer +Of the minutest cricket, +The most unworthy flower. + +When all the children sleep +She turns as long away +As will suffice to light her lamps; +Then, bending from the sky + +With infinite affection +And infiniter care, +Her golden finger on her lip, +Wills silence everywhere. + + + + + +II. + +OUT OF THE MORNING. + +Will there really be a morning? +Is there such a thing as day? +Could I see it from the mountains +If I were as tall as they? + +Has it feet like water-lilies? +Has it feathers like a bird? +Is it brought from famous countries +Of which I have never heard? + +Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! +Oh, some wise man from the skies! +Please to tell a little pilgrim +Where the place called morning lies! + + + + + +III. + +At half-past three a single bird +Unto a silent sky +Propounded but a single term +Of cautious melody. + +At half-past four, experiment +Had subjugated test, +And lo! her silver principle +Supplanted all the rest. + +At half-past seven, element +Nor implement was seen, +And place was where the presence was, +Circumference between. + + + + + +IV. + +DAY'S PARLOR. + +The day came slow, till five o'clock, +Then sprang before the hills +Like hindered rubies, or the light +A sudden musket spills. + +The purple could not keep the east, +The sunrise shook from fold, +Like breadths of topaz, packed a night, +The lady just unrolled. + +The happy winds their timbrels took; +The birds, in docile rows, +Arranged themselves around their prince +(The wind is prince of those). + +The orchard sparkled like a Jew, -- +How mighty 't was, to stay +A guest in this stupendous place, +The parlor of the day! + + + + + +V. + +THE SUN'S WOOING. + +The sun just touched the morning; +The morning, happy thing, +Supposed that he had come to dwell, +And life would be all spring. + +She felt herself supremer, -- +A raised, ethereal thing; +Henceforth for her what holiday! +Meanwhile, her wheeling king + +Trailed slow along the orchards +His haughty, spangled hems, +Leaving a new necessity, -- +The want of diadems! + +The morning fluttered, staggered, +Felt feebly for her crown, -- +Her unanointed forehead +Henceforth her only one. + + + + + + +VI. + +THE ROBIN. + +The robin is the one +That interrupts the morn +With hurried, few, express reports +When March is scarcely on. + +The robin is the one +That overflows the noon +With her cherubic quantity, +An April but begun. + +The robin is the one +That speechless from her nest +Submits that home and certainty +And sanctity are best. + + + + + +VII. + +THE BUTTERFLY'S DAY. + +From cocoon forth a butterfly +As lady from her door +Emerged -- a summer afternoon -- +Repairing everywhere, + +Without design, that I could trace, +Except to stray abroad +On miscellaneous enterprise +The clovers understood. + +Her pretty parasol was seen +Contracting in a field +Where men made hay, then struggling hard +With an opposing cloud, + +Where parties, phantom as herself, +To Nowhere seemed to go +In purposeless circumference, +As 't were a tropic show. + +And notwithstanding bee that worked, +And flower that zealous blew, +This audience of idleness +Disdained them, from the sky, + +Till sundown crept, a steady tide, +And men that made the hay, +And afternoon, and butterfly, +Extinguished in its sea. + + + + + +VIII. + +THE BLUEBIRD. + +Before you thought of spring, +Except as a surmise, +You see, God bless his suddenness, +A fellow in the skies +Of independent hues, +A little weather-worn, +Inspiriting habiliments +Of indigo and brown. + +With specimens of song, +As if for you to choose, +Discretion in the interval, +With gay delays he goes +To some superior tree +Without a single leaf, +And shouts for joy to nobody +But his seraphic self! + + + + + +IX. + +APRIL. + +An altered look about the hills; +A Tyrian light the village fills; +A wider sunrise in the dawn; +A deeper twilight on the lawn; +A print of a vermilion foot; +A purple finger on the slope; +A flippant fly upon the pane; +A spider at his trade again; +An added strut in chanticleer; +A flower expected everywhere; +An axe shrill singing in the woods; +Fern-odors on untravelled roads, -- +All this, and more I cannot tell, +A furtive look you know as well, +And Nicodemus' mystery +Receives its annual reply. + + + + + +X. + +THE SLEEPING FLOWERS. + +"Whose are the little beds," I asked, +"Which in the valleys lie?" +Some shook their heads, and others smiled, +And no one made reply. + +"Perhaps they did not hear," I said; +"I will inquire again. +Whose are the beds, the tiny beds +So thick upon the plain?" + +"'T is daisy in the shortest; +A little farther on, +Nearest the door to wake the first, +Little leontodon. + +"'T is iris, sir, and aster, +Anemone and bell, +Batschia in the blanket red, +And chubby daffodil." + +Meanwhile at many cradles +Her busy foot she plied, +Humming the quaintest lullaby +That ever rocked a child. + +"Hush! Epigea wakens! -- +The crocus stirs her lids, +Rhodora's cheek is crimson, -- +She's dreaming of the woods." + +Then, turning from them, reverent, +"Their bed-time 't is," she said; +"The bumble-bees will wake them +When April woods are red." + + + + + +XI. + +MY ROSE. + +Pigmy seraphs gone astray, +Velvet people from Vevay, +Belles from some lost summer day, +Bees' exclusive coterie. +Paris could not lay the fold +Belted down with emerald; +Venice could not show a cheek +Of a tint so lustrous meek. +Never such an ambuscade +As of brier and leaf displayed +For my little damask maid. +I had rather wear her grace +Than an earl's distinguished face; +I had rather dwell like her +Than be Duke of Exeter +Royalty enough for me +To subdue the bumble-bee! + + + + + +XII. + +THE ORIOLE'S SECRET. + +To hear an oriole sing +May be a common thing, +Or only a divine. + +It is not of the bird +Who sings the same, unheard, +As unto crowd. + +The fashion of the ear +Attireth that it hear +In dun or fair. + +So whether it be rune, +Or whether it be none, +Is of within; + +The "tune is in the tree," +The sceptic showeth me; +"No, sir! In thee!" + + + + + +XIII. + +THE ORIOLE. + +One of the ones that Midas touched, +Who failed to touch us all, +Was that confiding prodigal, +The blissful oriole. + +So drunk, he disavows it +With badinage divine; +So dazzling, we mistake him +For an alighting mine. + +A pleader, a dissembler, +An epicure, a thief, -- +Betimes an oratorio, +An ecstasy in chief; + +The Jesuit of orchards, +He cheats as he enchants +Of an entire attar +For his decamping wants. + +The splendor of a Burmah, +The meteor of birds, +Departing like a pageant +Of ballads and of bards. + +I never thought that Jason sought +For any golden fleece; +But then I am a rural man, +With thoughts that make for peace. + +But if there were a Jason, +Tradition suffer me +Behold his lost emolument +Upon the apple-tree. + + + + + +XIV. + +IN SHADOW. + +I dreaded that first robin so, +But he is mastered now, +And I 'm accustomed to him grown, -- +He hurts a little, though. + +I thought if I could only live +Till that first shout got by, +Not all pianos in the woods +Had power to mangle me. + +I dared not meet the daffodils, +For fear their yellow gown +Would pierce me with a fashion +So foreign to my own. + +I wished the grass would hurry, +So when 't was time to see, +He 'd be too tall, the tallest one +Could stretch to look at me. + +I could not bear the bees should come, +I wished they 'd stay away +In those dim countries where they go: +What word had they for me? + +They 're here, though; not a creature failed, +No blossom stayed away +In gentle deference to me, +The Queen of Calvary. + +Each one salutes me as he goes, +And I my childish plumes +Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment +Of their unthinking drums. + + + + + +XV. + +THE HUMMING-BIRD. + +A route of evanescence +With a revolving wheel; +A resonance of emerald, +A rush of cochineal; +And every blossom on the bush +Adjusts its tumbled head, -- +The mail from Tunis, probably, +An easy morning's ride. + + + + + +XVI. + +SECRETS. + +The skies can't keep their secret! +They tell it to the hills -- +The hills just tell the orchards -- +And they the daffodils! + +A bird, by chance, that goes that way +Soft overheard the whole. +If I should bribe the little bird, +Who knows but she would tell? + +I think I won't, however, +It's finer not to know; +If summer were an axiom, +What sorcery had snow? + +So keep your secret, Father! +I would not, if I could, +Know what the sapphire fellows do, +In your new-fashioned world! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who robbed the woods, +The trusting woods? +The unsuspecting trees +Brought out their burrs and mosses +His fantasy to please. +He scanned their trinkets, curious, +He grasped, he bore away. +What will the solemn hemlock, +What will the fir-tree say? + + + + + +XVIII. + +TWO VOYAGERS. + +Two butterflies went out at noon +And waltzed above a stream, +Then stepped straight through the firmament +And rested on a beam; + +And then together bore away +Upon a shining sea, -- +Though never yet, in any port, +Their coming mentioned be. + +If spoken by the distant bird, +If met in ether sea +By frigate or by merchantman, +Report was not to me. + + + + + +XIX. + +BY THE SEA. + +I started early, took my dog, +And visited the sea; +The mermaids in the basement +Came out to look at me, + +And frigates in the upper floor +Extended hempen hands, +Presuming me to be a mouse +Aground, upon the sands. + +But no man moved me till the tide +Went past my simple shoe, +And past my apron and my belt, +And past my bodice too, + +And made as he would eat me up +As wholly as a dew +Upon a dandelion's sleeve -- +And then I started too. + +And he -- he followed close behind; +I felt his silver heel +Upon my ankle, -- then my shoes +Would overflow with pearl. + +Until we met the solid town, +No man he seemed to know; +And bowing with a mighty look +At me, the sea withdrew. + + + + + +XX. + +OLD-FASHIONED. + +Arcturus is his other name, -- +I'd rather call him star! +It's so unkind of science +To go and interfere! + +I pull a flower from the woods, -- +A monster with a glass +Computes the stamens in a breath, +And has her in a class. + +Whereas I took the butterfly +Aforetime in my hat, +He sits erect in cabinets, +The clover-bells forgot. + +What once was heaven, is zenith now. +Where I proposed to go +When time's brief masquerade was done, +Is mapped, and charted too! + +What if the poles should frisk about +And stand upon their heads! +I hope I 'm ready for the worst, +Whatever prank betides! + +Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed! +I hope the children there +Won't be new-fashioned when I come, +And laugh at me, and stare! + +I hope the father in the skies +Will lift his little girl, -- +Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, -- +Over the stile of pearl! + + + + + +XXI. + +A TEMPEST. + +An awful tempest mashed the air, +The clouds were gaunt and few; +A black, as of a spectre's cloak, +Hid heaven and earth from view. + +The creatures chuckled on the roofs +And whistled in the air, +And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth. +And swung their frenzied hair. + +The morning lit, the birds arose; +The monster's faded eyes +Turned slowly to his native coast, +And peace was Paradise! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE SEA. + +An everywhere of silver, +With ropes of sand +To keep it from effacing +The track called land. + + + + + +XXIII. + +IN THE GARDEN. + +A bird came down the walk: +He did not know I saw; +He bit an angle-worm in halves +And ate the fellow, raw. + +And then he drank a dew +From a convenient grass, +And then hopped sidewise to the wall +To let a beetle pass. + +He glanced with rapid eyes +That hurried all abroad, -- +They looked like frightened beads, I thought; +He stirred his velvet head + +Like one in danger; cautious, +I offered him a crumb, +And he unrolled his feathers +And rowed him softer home + +Than oars divide the ocean, +Too silver for a seam, +Or butterflies, off banks of noon, +Leap, splashless, as they swim. + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE SNAKE. + +A narrow fellow in the grass +Occasionally rides; +You may have met him, -- did you not, +His notice sudden is. + +The grass divides as with a comb, +A spotted shaft is seen; +And then it closes at your feet +And opens further on. + +He likes a boggy acre, +A floor too cool for corn. +Yet when a child, and barefoot, +I more than once, at morn, + +Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash +Unbraiding in the sun, -- +When, stooping to secure it, +It wrinkled, and was gone. + +Several of nature's people +I know, and they know me; +I feel for them a transport +Of cordiality; + +But never met this fellow, +Attended or alone, +Without a tighter breathing, +And zero at the bone. + + + + + +XXV. + +THE MUSHROOM. + +The mushroom is the elf of plants, +At evening it is not; +At morning in a truffled hut +It stops upon a spot + +As if it tarried always; +And yet its whole career +Is shorter than a snake's delay, +And fleeter than a tare. + +'T is vegetation's juggler, +The germ of alibi; +Doth like a bubble antedate, +And like a bubble hie. + +I feel as if the grass were pleased +To have it intermit; +The surreptitious scion +Of summer's circumspect. + +Had nature any outcast face, +Could she a son contemn, +Had nature an Iscariot, +That mushroom, -- it is him. + + + + + +XXVI. + +THE STORM. + +There came a wind like a bugle; +It quivered through the grass, +And a green chill upon the heat +So ominous did pass +We barred the windows and the doors +As from an emerald ghost; +The doom's electric moccason +That very instant passed. +On a strange mob of panting trees, +And fences fled away, +And rivers where the houses ran +The living looked that day. +The bell within the steeple wild +The flying tidings whirled. +How much can come +And much can go, +And yet abide the world! + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE SPIDER. + +A spider sewed at night +Without a light +Upon an arc of white. +If ruff it was of dame +Or shroud of gnome, +Himself, himself inform. +Of immortality +His strategy +Was physiognomy. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I know a place where summer strives +With such a practised frost, +She each year leads her daisies back, +Recording briefly, "Lost." + +But when the south wind stirs the pools +And struggles in the lanes, +Her heart misgives her for her vow, +And she pours soft refrains + +Into the lap of adamant, +And spices, and the dew, +That stiffens quietly to quartz, +Upon her amber shoe. + + + + + +XXIX. + +The one that could repeat the summer day +Were greater than itself, though he +Minutest of mankind might be. +And who could reproduce the sun, +At period of going down -- +The lingering and the stain, I mean -- +When Orient has been outgrown, +And Occident becomes unknown, +His name remain. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE WIND'S VISIT. + +The wind tapped like a tired man, +And like a host, "Come in," +I boldly answered; entered then +My residence within + +A rapid, footless guest, +To offer whom a chair +Were as impossible as hand +A sofa to the air. + +No bone had he to bind him, +His speech was like the push +Of numerous humming-birds at once +From a superior bush. + +His countenance a billow, +His fingers, if he pass, +Let go a music, as of tunes +Blown tremulous in glass. + +He visited, still flitting; +Then, like a timid man, +Again he tapped -- 't was flurriedly -- +And I became alone. + + + + + +XXXI. + +Nature rarer uses yellow + Than another hue; +Saves she all of that for sunsets, -- + Prodigal of blue, + +Spending scarlet like a woman, + Yellow she affords +Only scantly and selectly, + Like a lover's words. + + + + + +XXXII. + +GOSSIP. + +The leaves, like women, interchange + Sagacious confidence; +Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of + Portentous inference, + +The parties in both cases + Enjoining secrecy, -- +Inviolable compact + To notoriety. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +SIMPLICITY. + +How happy is the little stone +That rambles in the road alone, +And doesn't care about careers, +And exigencies never fears; +Whose coat of elemental brown +A passing universe put on; +And independent as the sun, +Associates or glows alone, +Fulfilling absolute decree +In casual simplicity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +STORM. + +It sounded as if the streets were running, +And then the streets stood still. +Eclipse was all we could see at the window, +And awe was all we could feel. + +By and by the boldest stole out of his covert, +To see if time was there. +Nature was in her beryl apron, +Mixing fresher air. + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE RAT. + +The rat is the concisest tenant. +He pays no rent, -- +Repudiates the obligation, +On schemes intent. + +Balking our wit +To sound or circumvent, +Hate cannot harm +A foe so reticent. + +Neither decree +Prohibits him, +Lawful as +Equilibrium. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +Frequently the woods are pink, +Frequently are brown; +Frequently the hills undress +Behind my native town. + +Oft a head is crested +I was wont to see, +And as oft a cranny +Where it used to be. + +And the earth, they tell me, +On its axis turned, -- +Wonderful rotation +By but twelve performed! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +A THUNDER-STORM. + +The wind begun to rock the grass +With threatening tunes and low, -- +He flung a menace at the earth, +A menace at the sky. + +The leaves unhooked themselves from trees +And started all abroad; +The dust did scoop itself like hands +And throw away the road. + +The wagons quickened on the streets, +The thunder hurried slow; +The lightning showed a yellow beak, +And then a livid claw. + +The birds put up the bars to nests, +The cattle fled to barns; +There came one drop of giant rain, +And then, as if the hands + +That held the dams had parted hold, +The waters wrecked the sky, +But overlooked my father's house, +Just quartering a tree. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +South winds jostle them, +Bumblebees come, +Hover, hesitate, +Drink, and are gone. + +Butterflies pause +On their passage Cashmere; +I, softly plucking, +Present them here! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SUNSET. + +Where ships of purple gently toss +On seas of daffodil, +Fantastic sailors mingle, +And then -- the wharf is still. + + + + + +XL. + +She sweeps with many-colored brooms, +And leaves the shreds behind; +Oh, housewife in the evening west, +Come back, and dust the pond! + +You dropped a purple ravelling in, +You dropped an amber thread; +And now you 've littered all the East +With duds of emerald! + +And still she plies her spotted brooms, +And still the aprons fly, +Till brooms fade softly into stars -- +And then I come away. + + + + + +XLI. + +Like mighty footlights burned the red +At bases of the trees, -- +The far theatricals of day +Exhibiting to these. + +'T was universe that did applaud +While, chiefest of the crowd, +Enabled by his royal dress, +Myself distinguished God. + + + + + +XLII. + +PROBLEMS. + +Bring me the sunset in a cup, +Reckon the morning's flagons up, + And say how many dew; +Tell me how far the morning leaps, +Tell me what time the weaver sleeps + Who spun the breadths of blue! + +Write me how many notes there be +In the new robin's ecstasy + Among astonished boughs; +How many trips the tortoise makes, +How many cups the bee partakes, -- + The debauchee of dews! + +Also, who laid the rainbow's piers, +Also, who leads the docile spheres + By withes of supple blue? +Whose fingers string the stalactite, +Who counts the wampum of the night, + To see that none is due? + +Who built this little Alban house +And shut the windows down so close + My spirit cannot see? +Who 'll let me out some gala day, +With implements to fly away, + Passing pomposity? + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE JUGGLER OF DAY. + +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 otter's window, +Touching the roof and tinting the barn, +Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, -- +And the juggler of day is gone! + + + + +XLIV. + +MY CRICKET. + +Farther in summer than the birds, +Pathetic from the grass, +A minor nation celebrates +Its unobtrusive mass. + +No ordinance is seen, +So gradual the grace, +A pensive custom it becomes, +Enlarging loneliness. + +Antiquest felt at noon +When August, burning low, +Calls forth this spectral canticle, +Repose to typify. + +Remit as yet no grace, +No furrow on the glow, +Yet a druidic difference +Enhances nature now. + + + + +XLV. + +As imperceptibly as grief +The summer lapsed away, -- +Too imperceptible, at last, +To seem like perfidy. + +A quietness distilled, +As twilight long begun, +Or Nature, spending with herself +Sequestered afternoon. + +The dusk drew earlier in, +The morning foreign shone, -- +A courteous, yet harrowing grace, +As guest who would be gone. + +And thus, without a wing, +Or service of a keel, +Our summer made her light escape +Into the beautiful. + + + + + +XLVI. + +It can't be summer, -- that got through; +It 's early yet for spring; +There 's that long town of white to cross +Before the blackbirds sing. + +It can't be dying, -- it's too rouge, -- +The dead shall go in white. +So sunset shuts my question down +With clasps of chrysolite. + + + + + +XLVII. + +SUMMER'S OBSEQUIES. + +The gentian weaves her fringes, +The maple's loom is red. +My departing blossoms +Obviate parade. + +A brief, but patient illness, +An hour to prepare; +And one, below this morning, +Is where the angels are. + +It was a short procession, -- +The bobolink was there, +An aged bee addressed us, +And then we knelt in prayer. + +We trust that she was willing, -- +We ask that we may be. +Summer, sister, seraph, +Let us go with thee! + +In the name of the bee +And of the butterfly +And of the breeze, amen! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +FRINGED GENTIAN. + +God made a little gentian; +It tried to be a rose +And failed, and all the summer laughed. +But just before the snows +There came a purple creature +That ravished all the hill; +And summer hid her forehead, +And mockery was still. +The frosts were her condition; +The Tyrian would not come +Until the North evoked it. +"Creator! shall I bloom?" + + + + + +XLIX. + +NOVEMBER. + +Besides the autumn poets sing, +A few prosaic days +A little this side of the snow +And that side of the haze. + +A few incisive mornings, +A few ascetic eyes, -- +Gone Mr. Bryant's golden-rod, +And Mr. Thomson's sheaves. + +Still is the bustle in the brook, +Sealed are the spicy valves; +Mesmeric fingers softly touch +The eyes of many elves. + +Perhaps a squirrel may remain, +My sentiments to share. +Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind, +Thy windy will to bear! + + + + + +L. + +THE SNOW. + +It sifts from leaden sieves, +It powders all the wood, +It fills with alabaster wool +The wrinkles of the road. + +It makes an even face +Of mountain and of plain, -- +Unbroken forehead from the east +Unto the east again. + +It reaches to the fence, +It wraps it, rail by rail, +Till it is lost in fleeces; +It flings a crystal veil + +On stump and stack and stem, -- +The summer's empty room, +Acres of seams where harvests were, +Recordless, but for them. + +It ruffles wrists of posts, +As ankles of a queen, -- +Then stills its artisans like ghosts, +Denying they have been. + + + + + +LI. + +THE BLUE JAY. + +No brigadier throughout the year +So civic as the jay. +A neighbor and a warrior too, +With shrill felicity + +Pursuing winds that censure us +A February day, +The brother of the universe +Was never blown away. + +The snow and he are intimate; +I 've often seen them play +When heaven looked upon us all +With such severity, + +I felt apology were due +To an insulted sky, +Whose pompous frown was nutriment +To their temerity. + +The pillow of this daring head +Is pungent evergreens; +His larder -- terse and militant -- +Unknown, refreshing things; + +His character a tonic, +His future a dispute; +Unfair an immortality +That leaves this neighbor out. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + + +I. + +Let down the bars, O Death! +The tired flocks come in +Whose bleating ceases to repeat, +Whose wandering is done. + +Thine is the stillest night, +Thine the securest fold; +Too near thou art for seeking thee, +Too tender to be told. + + + + + +II. + +Going to heaven! +I don't know when, +Pray do not ask me how, -- +Indeed, I 'm 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 shepherd's arm! + +Perhaps you 're going too! +Who knows? +If you should get there first, +Save just a little place 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. + +I 'm glad I don't believe it, +For it would stop my breath, +And I 'd like to look a little more +At such a curious earth! +I am glad they did believe it +Whom I have never found +Since the mighty autumn afternoon +I left them in the ground. + + + + + +III. + +At least to pray is left, is left. +O Jesus! in the air +I know not which thy chamber is, -- +I 'm knocking everywhere. + +Thou stirrest earthquake in the South, +And maelstrom in the sea; +Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, +Hast thou no arm for me? + + + + + +IV. + +EPITAPH. + +Step lightly on this narrow spot! +The broadest land that grows +Is not so ample as the breast +These emerald seams enclose. + +Step lofty; for this name is told +As far as cannon dwell, +Or flag subsist, or fame export +Her deathless syllable. + + + + + +V. + +Morns like these we parted; +Noons like these she rose, +Fluttering first, then firmer, +To her fair repose. + +Never did she lisp it, +And 't was not for me; +She was mute from transport, +I, from agony! + +Till the evening, nearing, +One the shutters drew -- +Quick! a sharper rustling! +And this linnet flew! + + + + + +VI. + +A death-blow is a life-blow to some +Who, till they died, did not alive become; +Who, had they lived, had died, but when +They died, vitality begun. + + + + + +VII. + +I read my sentence steadily, +Reviewed it with my eyes, +To see that I made no mistake +In its extremest clause, -- + +The date, and manner of the shame; +And then the pious form +That "God have mercy" on the soul +The jury voted him. + +I made my soul familiar +With her extremity, +That at the last it should not be +A novel agony, + +But she and Death, acquainted, +Meet tranquilly as friends, +Salute and pass without a hint -- +And there the matter ends. + + + + + +VIII. + +I have not told my garden yet, +Lest that should conquer me; +I have not quite the strength now +To break it to the bee. + +I will not name it in the street, +For shops would stare, that I, +So shy, so very ignorant, +Should have the face to die. + +The hillsides must not know it, +Where I have rambled so, +Nor tell the loving forests +The day that I shall go, + +Nor lisp it at the table, +Nor heedless by the way +Hint that within the riddle +One will walk to-day! + + + + + +IX. + +THE BATTLE-FIELD. + +They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, + Like petals from a rose, +When suddenly across the June + A wind with fingers goes. + +They perished in the seamless grass, -- + No eye could find the place; +But God on his repealless list + Can summon every face. + + + + + +X. + +The only ghost I ever saw +Was dressed in mechlin, -- so; +He wore no sandal on his foot, +And stepped like flakes of snow. +His gait was soundless, like the bird, +But rapid, like the roe; +His fashions quaint, mosaic, +Or, haply, mistletoe. + +His conversation seldom, +His laughter like the breeze +That dies away in dimples +Among the pensive trees. +Our interview was transient,-- +Of me, himself was shy; +And God forbid I look behind +Since that appalling day! + + + + + +XI. + +Some, too fragile for winter winds, +The thoughtful grave encloses, -- +Tenderly tucking them in from frost +Before their feet are cold. + +Never the treasures in her nest +The cautious grave exposes, +Building where schoolboy dare not look +And sportsman is not bold. + +This covert have all the children +Early aged, and often cold, -- +Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; +Lambs for whom time had not a fold. + + + + + +XII. + +As by the dead we love to sit, +Become so wondrous dear, +As for the lost we grapple, +Though all the rest are here, -- + +In broken mathematics +We estimate our prize, +Vast, in its fading ratio, +To our penurious eyes! + + + + + +XIII. + +MEMORIALS. + +Death sets a thing significant +The eye had hurried by, +Except a perished creature +Entreat us tenderly + +To ponder little workmanships +In crayon or in wool, +With "This was last her fingers did," +Industrious until + +The thimble weighed too heavy, +The stitches stopped themselves, +And then 't was put among the dust +Upon the closet shelves. + +A book I have, a friend gave, +Whose pencil, here and there, +Had notched the place that pleased him, -- +At rest his fingers are. + +Now, when I read, I read not, +For interrupting tears +Obliterate the etchings +Too costly for repairs. + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to heaven, -- +'T was a small town, +Lit with a ruby, +Lathed with down. +Stiller than the fields +At the full dew, +Beautiful as pictures +No man drew. +People like the moth, +Of mechlin, frames, +Duties of gossamer, +And eider names. +Almost contented +I could be +'Mong such unique +Society. + + + + + +XV. + +Their height in heaven comforts not, +Their glory nought to me; +'T was best imperfect, as it was; +I 'm finite, I can't see. + +The house of supposition, +The glimmering frontier +That skirts the acres of perhaps, +To me shows insecure. + +The wealth I had contented me; +If 't was a meaner size, +Then I had counted it until +It pleased my narrow eyes + +Better than larger values, +However true their show; +This timid life of evidence +Keeps pleading, "I don't know." + + + + + +XVI. + +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 this involves the grave. + + + + + +XVII. + +TRIUMPH. + +Triumph may be of several kinds. +There 's triumph in the room +When that old imperator, Death, +By faith is overcome. + +There 's triumph of the finer mind +When truth, affronted long, +Advances calm to her supreme, +Her God her only throng. + +A triumph when temptation's bribe +Is slowly handed back, +One eye upon the heaven renounced +And one upon the rack. + +Severer triumph, by himself +Experienced, who can pass +Acquitted from that naked bar, +Jehovah's countenance! + + + + + +XVIII. + +Pompless no life can pass away; + The lowliest career +To the same pageant wends its way + As that exalted here. +How cordial is the mystery! + The hospitable pall +A "this way" beckons spaciously, -- + A miracle for all! + + + + + +XIX. + +I noticed people disappeared, +When but a little child, -- +Supposed they visited remote, +Or settled regions wild. + +Now know I they both visited +And settled regions wild, +But did because they died, -- a fact +Withheld the little child! + + + + + +XX. + +FOLLOWING. + +I had no cause to be awake, +My best was gone to sleep, +And morn a new politeness took, +And failed to wake them up, + +But called the others clear, +And passed their curtains by. +Sweet morning, when I over-sleep, +Knock, recollect, for me! + +I looked at sunrise once, +And then I looked at them, +And wishfulness in me arose +For circumstance the same. + +'T was such an ample peace, +It could not hold a sigh, -- +'T was Sabbath with the bells divorced, +'T was sunset all the day. + +So choosing but a gown +And taking but a prayer, +The only raiment I should need, +I struggled, and was there. + + + + + +XXI. + +If anybody's friend be dead, +It 's sharpest of the theme +The thinking how they walked alive, +At such and such a time. + +Their costume, of a Sunday, +Some manner of the hair, -- +A prank nobody knew but them, +Lost, in the sepulchre. + +How warm they were on such a day: +You almost feel the date, +So short way off it seems; and now, +They 're centuries from that. + +How pleased they were at what you said; +You try to touch the smile, +And dip your fingers in the frost: +When was it, can you tell, + +You asked the company to tea, +Acquaintance, just a few, +And chatted close with this grand thing +That don't remember you? + +Past bows and invitations, +Past interview, and vow, +Past what ourselves can estimate, -- +That makes the quick of woe! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE JOURNEY. + +Our journey had advanced; +Our feet were almost come +To that odd fork in Being's road, +Eternity by term. + +Our pace took sudden awe, +Our feet reluctant led. +Before were cities, but between, +The forest of the dead. + +Retreat was out of hope, -- +Behind, a sealed route, +Eternity's white flag before, +And God at every gate. + + + + + +XXIII. + +A COUNTRY BURIAL. + +Ample make this bed. +Make this bed with awe; +In it wait till judgment break +Excellent and fair. + +Be its mattress straight, +Be its pillow round; +Let no sunrise' yellow noise +Interrupt this ground. + + + + + +XXIV. + +GOING. + +On such a night, or such a night, +Would anybody care +If such a little figure +Slipped quiet from its chair, + +So quiet, oh, how quiet! +That nobody might know +But that the little figure +Rocked softer, to and fro? + +On such a dawn, or such a dawn, +Would anybody sigh +That such a little figure +Too sound asleep did lie + +For chanticleer to wake it, -- +Or stirring house below, +Or giddy bird in orchard, +Or early task to do? + +There was a little figure plump +For every little knoll, +Busy needles, and spools of thread, +And trudging feet from school. + +Playmates, and holidays, and nuts, +And visions vast and small. +Strange that the feet so precious charged +Should reach so small a goal! + + + + + +XXV. + +Essential oils are wrung: +The attar from the rose +Is not expressed by suns alone, +It is the gift of screws. + +The general rose decays; +But this, in lady's drawer, +Makes summer when the lady lies +In ceaseless rosemary. + + + + +XXVI. + +I lived on dread; to those who know +The stimulus there is +In danger, other impetus +Is numb and vital-less. + +As 't were a spur upon the soul, +A fear will urge it where +To go without the spectre's aid +Were challenging despair. + + + + + +XXVII. + +If I should die, +And you should live, +And time should gurgle on, +And morn should beam, +And noon should burn, +As it has usual done; +If birds should build as early, +And bees as bustling go, -- +One might depart at option +From enterprise below! +'T is sweet to know that stocks will stand +When we with daisies lie, +That commerce will continue, +And trades as briskly fly. +It makes the parting tranquil +And keeps the soul serene, +That gentlemen so sprightly +Conduct the pleasing scene! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AT LENGTH. + +Her final summer was it, +And yet we guessed it not; +If tenderer industriousness +Pervaded her, we thought + +A further force of life +Developed from within, -- +When Death lit all the shortness up, +And made the hurry plain. + +We wondered at our blindness, -- +When nothing was to see +But her Carrara guide-post, -- +At our stupidity, + +When, duller than our dullness, +The busy darling lay, +So busy was she, finishing, +So leisurely were we! + + + + + +XXIX. + +GHOSTS. + +One need not be a chamber to be haunted, +One need not be a house; +The brain has corridors surpassing +Material place. + +Far safer, of a midnight meeting +External ghost, +Than an interior confronting +That whiter host. + +Far safer through an Abbey gallop, +The stones achase, +Than, moonless, one's own self encounter +In lonesome place. + +Ourself, behind ourself concealed, +Should startle most; +Assassin, hid in our apartment, +Be horror's least. + +The prudent carries a revolver, +He bolts the door, +O'erlooking a superior spectre +More near. + + + + + +XXX. + +VANISHED. + +She died, -- this was the way she died; +And when her breath was done, +Took up her simple wardrobe +And started for the sun. + +Her little figure at the gate +The angels must have spied, +Since I could never find her +Upon the mortal side. + + + + + +XXXI. + +PRECEDENCE. + +Wait till the majesty of Death +Invests so mean a brow! +Almost a powdered footman +Might dare to touch it now! + +Wait till in everlasting robes +This democrat is dressed, +Then prate about "preferment" +And "station" and the rest! + +Around this quiet courtier +Obsequious angels wait! +Full royal is his retinue, +Full purple is his state! + +A lord might dare to lift the hat +To such a modest clay, +Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords" +Receives unblushingly! + + + + + +XXXII. + +GONE. + +Went up a year this evening! +I recollect it well! +Amid no bells nor bravos +The bystanders will tell! +Cheerful, as to the village, +Tranquil, as to repose, +Chastened, as to the chapel, +This humble tourist rose. +Did not talk of returning, +Alluded to no time +When, were the gales propitious, +We might look for him; +Was grateful for the roses +In life's diverse bouquet, +Talked softly of new species +To pick another day. + +Beguiling thus the wonder, +The wondrous nearer drew; +Hands bustled at the moorings -- +The crowd respectful grew. +Ascended from our vision +To countenances new! +A difference, a daisy, +Is all the rest I knew! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +REQUIEM. + +Taken from men this morning, +Carried by men to-day, +Met by the gods with banners +Who marshalled her away. + +One little maid from playmates, +One little mind from school, -- +There must be guests in Eden; +All the rooms are full. + +Far as the east from even, +Dim as the border star, -- +Courtiers quaint, in kingdoms, +Our departed are. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +What inn is this +Where for the night +Peculiar traveller comes? +Who is the landlord? +Where the maids? +Behold, what curious rooms! +No ruddy fires on the hearth, +No brimming tankards flow. +Necromancer, landlord, +Who are these below? + + + + + +XXXV. + +It was not death, for I stood up, +And all the dead lie down; +It was not night, for all the bells +Put out their tongues, for noon. + +It was not frost, for on my flesh +I felt siroccos crawl, -- +Nor fire, for just my marble feet +Could keep a chancel cool. + +And yet it tasted like them all; +The figures I have seen +Set orderly, for burial, +Reminded me of mine, + +As if my life were shaven +And fitted to a frame, +And could not breathe without a key; +And 't was like midnight, some, + +When everything that ticked has stopped, +And space stares, all around, +Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, +Repeal the beating ground. + +But most like chaos, -- stopless, cool, -- +Without a chance or spar, +Or even a report of land +To justify despair. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +TILL THE END. + +I should not dare to leave my friend, +Because -- because if he should die +While I was gone, and I -- too late -- +Should reach the heart that wanted me; + +If I should disappoint the eyes +That hunted, hunted so, to see, +And could not bear to shut until +They "noticed" me -- they noticed me; + +If I should stab the patient faith +So sure I 'd come -- so sure I 'd come, +It listening, listening, went to sleep +Telling my tardy name, -- + +My heart would wish it broke before, +Since breaking then, since breaking then, +Were useless as next morning's sun, +Where midnight frosts had lain! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +VOID. + +Great streets of silence led away +To neighborhoods of pause; +Here was no notice, no dissent, +No universe, no laws. + +By clocks 't was morning, and for night +The bells at distance called; +But epoch had no basis here, +For period exhaled. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +A throe upon the features +A hurry in the breath, +An ecstasy of parting +Denominated "Death," -- + +An anguish at the mention, +Which, when to patience grown, +I 've known permission given +To rejoin its own. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SAVED! + +Of tribulation these are they +Denoted by the white; +The spangled gowns, a lesser rank +Of victors designate. + +All these did conquer; but the ones +Who overcame most times +Wear nothing commoner than snow, +No ornament but palms. + +Surrender is a sort unknown +On this superior soil; +Defeat, an outgrown anguish, +Remembered as the mile + +Our panting ankle barely gained +When night devoured the road; +But we stood whispering in the house, +And all we said was "Saved"! + + + + + +XL. + +I think just how my shape will rise +When I shall be forgiven, +Till hair and eyes and timid head +Are out of sight, in heaven. + +I think just how my lips will weigh +With shapeless, quivering prayer +That you, so late, consider me, +The sparrow of your care. + +I mind me that of anguish sent, +Some drifts were moved away +Before my simple bosom broke, -- +And why not this, if they? + +And so, until delirious borne +I con that thing, -- "forgiven," -- +Till with long fright and longer trust +I drop my heart, unshriven! + + + + + +XLI. + +THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. + +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. + + + + + +XLII. + +Lay this laurel on the one +Too intrinsic for renown. +Laurel! veil your deathless tree, -- +Him you chasten, that is he! + + + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Third Series + + + + +Edited by + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD + + + + It's all I have to bring to-day, + This, and my heart beside, + This, and my heart, and all the fields, + And all the meadows wide. + Be sure you count, should I forget, -- + Some one the sum could tell, -- + This, and my heart, and all the bees + Which in the clover dwell. + + + +PREFACE. + +The intellectual activity of Emily Dickinson was so great that +a large and characteristic choice is still possible among her +literary material, and this third volume of her verses is put +forth in response to the repeated wish of the admirers of her +peculiar genius. Much of Emily Dickinson's prose was rhythmic, +--even rhymed, though frequently not set apart in lines. + +Also many verses, written as such, were sent to friends in +letters; these were published in 1894, in the volumes of her +_Letters_. It has not been necessary, however, to include them in +this Series, and all have been omitted, except three or four +exceptionally strong ones, as "A Book," and "With Flowers." + +There is internal evidence that many of the poems were simply +spontaneous flashes of insight, apparently unrelated to outward +circumstance. Others, however, had an obvious personal origin; +for example, the verses "I had a Guinea golden," which seem to +have been sent to some friend travelling in Europe, as a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. The surroundings in +which any of Emily Dickinson's verses are known to have been +written usually serve to explain them clearly; but in general the +present volume is full of thoughts needing no interpretation to +those who apprehend this scintillating spirit. + + M. L. T. + +AMHERST, _October_, 1896. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +REAL RICHES. + +'T is little I could care for pearls + Who own the ample sea; +Or brooches, when the Emperor + With rubies pelteth me; + +Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines; + Or diamonds, when I see +A diadem to fit a dome + Continual crowning me. + + + + + +II. + +SUPERIORITY TO FATE. + +Superiority to fate + Is difficult to learn. +'T is not conferred by any, + But possible to earn + +A pittance at a time, + Until, to her surprise, +The soul with strict economy + Subsists till Paradise. + + + + + +III. + +HOPE. + +Hope is a subtle glutton; + He feeds upon the fair; +And yet, inspected closely, + What abstinence is there! + +His is the halcyon table + That never seats but one, +And whatsoever is consumed + The same amounts remain. + + + + + +IV. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +I. + +Forbidden fruit a flavor has + That lawful orchards mocks; +How luscious lies the pea within + The pod that Duty locks! + + + + + +V. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +II. + +Heaven is what I cannot reach! + The apple on the tree, +Provided it do hopeless hang, + That 'heaven' is, to me. + +The color on the cruising cloud, + The interdicted ground +Behind the hill, the house behind, -- + There Paradise is found! + + + + + +VI. + +A WORD. + +A word is dead +When it is said, + Some say. +I say it just +Begins to live + That day. + + + + + +VII. + +To venerate the simple days + Which lead the seasons by, +Needs but to remember + That from you or me +They may take the trifle + Termed mortality! + +To invest existence with a stately air, +Needs but to remember + That the acorn there +Is the egg of forests + For the upper air! + + + + + +VIII. + +LIFE'S TRADES. + +It's such a little thing to weep, + So short a thing to sigh; +And yet by trades the size of these + We men and women die! + + + + + +IX. + +Drowning is not so pitiful + As the attempt to rise. +Three times, 't is said, a sinking man + Comes up to face the skies, +And then declines forever + To that abhorred abode +Where hope and he part company, -- + For he is grasped of God. +The Maker's cordial visage, + However good to see, +Is shunned, we must admit it, + Like an adversity. + + + + + +X. + +How still the bells in steeples stand, + Till, swollen with the sky, +They leap upon their silver feet + In frantic melody! + + + + + +XI. + +If the foolish call them 'flowers,' + Need the wiser tell? +If the savans 'classify' them, + It is just as well! + +Those who read the Revelations + Must not criticise +Those who read the same edition + With beclouded eyes! + +Could we stand with that old Moses + Canaan denied, -- +Scan, like him, the stately landscape + On the other side, -- + +Doubtless we should deem superfluous + Many sciences +Not pursued by learned angels + In scholastic skies! + +Low amid that glad _Belles lettres_ + Grant that we may stand, +Stars, amid profound Galaxies, + At that grand 'Right hand'! + + + + + +XII. + +A SYLLABLE. + +Could mortal lip divine + The undeveloped freight +Of a delivered syllable, + 'T would crumble with the weight. + + + + + +XIII. + +PARTING. + +My life closed twice before its close; + It yet remains to see +If Immortality unveil + A third event to me, + +So huge, so hopeless to conceive, + As these that twice befell. +Parting is all we know of heaven, + And all we need of hell. + + + + + +XIV. + +ASPIRATION. + +We never know how high we are + Till we are called to rise; +And then, if we are true to plan, + Our statures touch the skies. + +The heroism we recite + Would be a daily thing, +Did not ourselves the cubits warp + For fear to be a king. + + + + + +XV. + +THE INEVITABLE. + +While I was fearing it, it came, + But came with less of fear, +Because that fearing it so long + Had almost made it dear. +There is a fitting a dismay, + A fitting a despair. +'Tis harder knowing it is due, + Than knowing it is here. +The trying on the utmost, + The morning it is new, +Is terribler than wearing it + A whole existence through. + + + + + +XVI. + +A BOOK. + +There is no frigate like a book + To take us lands away, +Nor any coursers like a page + Of prancing poetry. +This traverse may the poorest take + Without oppress of toll; +How frugal is the chariot + That bears a human soul! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who has not found the heaven below + Will fail of it above. +God's residence is next to mine, + His furniture is love. + + + + + +XVIII. + +A PORTRAIT. + +A face devoid of love or grace, + A hateful, hard, successful face, +A face with which a stone + Would feel as thoroughly at ease +As were they old acquaintances, -- + First time together thrown. + + + + + +XIX. + +I HAD A GUINEA GOLDEN. + +I had a guinea golden; + I lost it in the sand, +And though the sum was simple, + And pounds were in the land, +Still had it such a value + Unto my frugal eye, +That when I could not find it + I sat me down to sigh. + +I had a crimson robin + Who sang full many a day, +But when the woods were painted + He, too, did fly away. +Time brought me other robins, -- + Their ballads were the same, -- +Still for my missing troubadour + I kept the 'house at hame.' + +I had a star in heaven; + One Pleiad was its name, +And when I was not heeding + It wandered from the same. +And though the skies are crowded, + And all the night ashine, +I do not care about it, + Since none of them are mine. + +My story has a moral: + I have a missing friend, -- +Pleiad its name, and robin, + And guinea in the sand, -- +And when this mournful ditty, + Accompanied with tear, +Shall meet the eye of traitor + In country far from here, +Grant that repentance solemn + May seize upon his mind, +And he no consolation + Beneath the sun may find. + +NOTE. -- This poem may have had, like many others, a +personal origin. It is more than probable that it was +sent to some friend travelling in Europe, a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. + + + + + +XX. + +SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + +From all the jails the boys and girls + Ecstatically leap, -- +Beloved, only afternoon + That prison doesn't keep. + +They storm the earth and stun the air, + A mob of solid bliss. +Alas! that frowns could lie in wait + For such a foe as this! + + + + + + +XXI. + +Few get enough, -- enough is one; + To that ethereal throng +Have not each one of us the right + To stealthily belong? + + + + + +XXII. + +Upon the gallows hung a wretch, + Too sullied for the hell +To which the law entitled him. + As nature's curtain fell +The one who bore him tottered in, + For this was woman's son. +''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped; + Oh, what a livid boon! + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE LOST THOUGHT. + +I felt a clearing in my mind + As if my brain had split; +I tried to match it, seam by seam, + But could not make them fit. + +The thought behind I strove to join + Unto the thought before, +But sequence ravelled out of reach + Like balls upon a floor. + + + + + +XXIV. + +RETICENCE. + +The reticent volcano keeps + His never slumbering plan; +Confided are his projects pink + To no precarious man. + +If nature will not tell the tale + Jehovah told to her, +Can human nature not survive + Without a listener? + +Admonished by her buckled lips + Let every babbler be. +The only secret people keep + Is Immortality. + + + + + +XXV. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +If recollecting were forgetting, + Then I remember not; +And if forgetting, recollecting, + How near I had forgot! +And if to miss were merry, + And if to mourn were gay, +How very blithe the fingers + That gathered these to-day! + + + + + +XXVI. + +The farthest thunder that I heard + Was nearer than the sky, +And rumbles still, though torrid noons + Have lain their missiles by. +The lightning that preceded it + Struck no one but myself, +But I would not exchange the bolt + For all the rest of life. +Indebtedness to oxygen + The chemist may repay, +But not the obligation + To electricity. +It founds the homes and decks the days, + And every clamor bright +Is but the gleam concomitant + Of that waylaying light. +The thought is quiet as a flake, -- + A crash without a sound; +How life's reverberation + Its explanation found! + + + + + +XXVII. + +On the bleakness of my lot + Bloom I strove to raise. +Late, my acre of a rock + Yielded grape and maize. + +Soil of flint if steadfast tilled + Will reward the hand; +Seed of palm by Lybian sun + Fructified in sand. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +CONTRAST. + +A door just opened on a street -- + I, lost, was passing by -- +An instant's width of warmth disclosed, + And wealth, and company. + +The door as sudden shut, and I, + I, lost, was passing by, -- +Lost doubly, but by contrast most, + Enlightening misery. + + + + + + +XXIX. + +FRIENDS. + +Are friends delight or pain? + Could bounty but remain +Riches were good. + +But if they only stay +Bolder to fly away, + Riches are sad. + + + + + + +XXX. + +FIRE. + +Ashes denote that fire was; + Respect the grayest pile +For the departed creature's sake + That hovered there awhile. + +Fire exists the first in light, + And then consolidates, -- +Only the chemist can disclose + Into what carbonates. + + + + + +XXXI. + +A MAN. + +Fate slew him, but he did not drop; + She felled -- he did not fall -- +Impaled him on her fiercest stakes -- + He neutralized them all. + +She stung him, sapped his firm advance, + But, when her worst was done, +And he, unmoved, regarded her, + Acknowledged him a man. + + + + + +XXXII. + +VENTURES. + +Finite to fail, but infinite to venture. + For the one ship that struts the shore +Many's the gallant, overwhelmed creature + Nodding in navies nevermore. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +GRIEFS. + +I measure every grief I meet + With analytic eyes; +I wonder if it weighs like mine, + Or has an easier size. + +I wonder if they bore it long, + Or did it just begin? +I could not tell the date of mine, + It feels so old a pain. + +I wonder if it hurts to live, + And if they have to try, +And whether, could they choose between, + They would not rather die. + +I wonder if when years have piled -- + Some thousands -- on the cause +Of early hurt, if such a lapse + Could give them any pause; + +Or would they go on aching still + Through centuries above, +Enlightened to a larger pain + By contrast with the love. + +The grieved are many, I am told; + The reason deeper lies, -- +Death is but one and comes but once, + And only nails the eyes. + +There's grief of want, and grief of cold, -- + A sort they call 'despair;' +There's banishment from native eyes, + In sight of native air. + +And though I may not guess the kind + Correctly, yet to me +A piercing comfort it affords + In passing Calvary, + +To note the fashions of the cross, + Of those that stand alone, +Still fascinated to presume + That some are like my own. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +I have a king who does not speak; +So, wondering, thro' the hours meek + I trudge the day away,-- +Half glad when it is night and sleep, +If, haply, thro' a dream to peep + In parlors shut by day. + +And if I do, when morning comes, +It is as if a hundred drums + Did round my pillow roll, +And shouts fill all my childish sky, +And bells keep saying 'victory' + From steeples in my soul! + +And if I don't, the little Bird +Within the Orchard is not heard, + And I omit to pray, +'Father, thy will be done' to-day, +For my will goes the other way, + And it were perjury! + + + + + +XXXV. + +DISENCHANTMENT. + +It dropped so low in my regard + I heard it hit the ground, +And go to pieces on the stones + At bottom of my mind; + +Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less + Than I reviled myself +For entertaining plated wares + Upon my silver shelf. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST FAITH. + +To lose one's faith surpasses + The loss of an estate, +Because estates can be + Replenished, -- faith cannot. + +Inherited with life, + Belief but once can be; +Annihilate a single clause, + And Being's beggary. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +LOST JOY. + +I had a daily bliss + I half indifferent viewed, +Till sudden I perceived it stir, -- + It grew as I pursued, + +Till when, around a crag, + It wasted from my sight, +Enlarged beyond my utmost scope, + I learned its sweetness right. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +I worked for chaff, and earning wheat + Was haughty and betrayed. +What right had fields to arbitrate + In matters ratified? + +I tasted wheat, -- and hated chaff, + And thanked the ample friend; +Wisdom is more becoming viewed + At distance than at hand. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Life, and Death, and Giants + Such as these, are still. +Minor apparatus, hopper of the mill, +Beetle at the candle, + Or a fife's small fame, +Maintain by accident + That they proclaim. + + + + + +XL. + +ALPINE GLOW. + +Our lives are Swiss, -- + So still, so cool, + Till, some odd afternoon, +The Alps neglect their curtains, + And we look farther on. + +Italy stands the other side, + While, like a guard between, +The solemn Alps, +The siren Alps, + Forever intervene! + + + + + +XLI. + +REMEMBRANCE. + +Remembrance has a rear and front, -- + 'T is something like a house; +It has a garret also + For refuse and the mouse, + +Besides, the deepest cellar + That ever mason hewed; +Look to it, by its fathoms + Ourselves be not pursued. + + + + + +XLII. + +To hang our head ostensibly, + And subsequent to find +That such was not the posture + Of our immortal mind, + +Affords the sly presumption + That, in so dense a fuzz, +You, too, take cobweb attitudes + Upon a plane of gauze! + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE BRAIN. + +The brain is wider than the sky, + For, put them side by side, +The one the other will include + With ease, and you beside. + +The brain is deeper than the sea, + For, hold them, blue to blue, +The one the other will absorb, + As sponges, buckets do. + +The brain is just the weight of God, + For, lift them, pound for pound, +And they will differ, if they do, + As syllable from sound. + + + + + +XLIV. + +The bone that has no marrow; + What ultimate for that? +It is not fit for table, + For beggar, or for cat. + +A bone has obligations, + A being has the same; +A marrowless assembly + Is culpabler than shame. + +But how shall finished creatures + A function fresh obtain? -- +Old Nicodemus' phantom + Confronting us again! + + + + + +XLV. + +THE PAST. + +The past is such a curious creature, + To look her in the face +A transport may reward us, + Or a disgrace. + +Unarmed if any meet her, + I charge him, fly! +Her rusty ammunition + Might yet reply! + + + + + +XLVI. + +To help our bleaker parts + Salubrious hours are given, +Which if they do not fit for earth + Drill silently for heaven. + + + + + +XLVII. + +What soft, cherubic creatures + These gentlewomen are! +One would as soon assault a plush + Or violate a star. + +Such dimity convictions, + A horror so refined +Of freckled human nature, + Of Deity ashamed, -- + +It's such a common glory, + A fisherman's degree! +Redemption, brittle lady, + Be so, ashamed of thee. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +DESIRE. + +Who never wanted, -- maddest joy + Remains to him unknown: +The banquet of abstemiousness + Surpasses that of wine. + +Within its hope, though yet ungrasped + Desire's perfect goal, +No nearer, lest reality + Should disenthrall thy soul. + + + + + +XLIX. + +PHILOSOPHY. + +It might be easier + To fail with land in sight, +Than gain my blue peninsula + To perish of delight. + + + + + +L. + +POWER. + +You cannot put a fire out; + A thing that can ignite +Can go, itself, without a fan + Upon the slowest night. + +You cannot fold a flood + And put it in a drawer, -- +Because the winds would find it out, + And tell your cedar floor. + + + + + +LI. + +A modest lot, a fame petite, + A brief campaign of sting and sweet + Is plenty! Is enough! +A sailor's business is the shore, + A soldier's -- balls. Who asketh more +Must seek the neighboring life! + + + + + +LII. + +Is bliss, then, such abyss +I must not put my foot amiss +For fear I spoil my shoe? + +I'd rather suit my foot +Than save my boot, +For yet to buy another pair +Is possible +At any fair. + +But bliss is sold just once; +The patent lost +None buy it any more. + + + + + +LIII. + +EXPERIENCE. + +I stepped from plank to plank + So slow and cautiously; +The stars about my head I felt, + About my feet the sea. + +I knew not but the next + Would be my final inch, -- +This gave me that precarious gait + Some call experience. + + + + + +LIV. + +THANKSGIVING DAY. + +One day is there of the series + Termed Thanksgiving day, +Celebrated part at table, + Part in memory. + +Neither patriarch nor pussy, + I dissect the play; +Seems it, to my hooded thinking, + Reflex holiday. + +Had there been no sharp subtraction + From the early sum, +Not an acre or a caption + Where was once a room, + +Not a mention, whose small pebble + Wrinkled any bay, -- +Unto such, were such assembly, + 'T were Thanksgiving day. + + + + + +LV. + +CHILDISH GRIEFS. + +Softened by Time's consummate plush, + How sleek the woe appears +That threatened childhood's citadel + And undermined the years! + +Bisected now by bleaker griefs, + We envy the despair +That devastated childhood's realm, + So easy to repair. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CONSECRATION. + +Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, + Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, +Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, + Not to partake thy passion, my humility. + + + + + +II. + +LOVE'S HUMILITY. + +My worthiness is all my doubt, + His merit all my fear, +Contrasting which, my qualities + Do lowlier appear; + +Lest I should insufficient prove + For his beloved need, +The chiefest apprehension + Within my loving creed. + +So I, the undivine abode + Of his elect content, +Conform my soul as 't were a church + Unto her sacrament. + + + + + +III. + +LOVE. + +Love is anterior to life, + Posterior to death, +Initial of creation, and + The exponent of breath. + + + + + +IV. + +SATISFIED. + +One blessing had I, than the rest + So larger to my eyes +That I stopped gauging, satisfied, + For this enchanted size. + +It was the limit of my dream, + The focus of my prayer, -- +A perfect, paralyzing bliss + Contented as despair. + +I knew no more of want or cold, + Phantasms both become, +For this new value in the soul, + Supremest earthly sum. + +The heaven below the heaven above + Obscured with ruddier hue. +Life's latitude leant over-full; + The judgment perished, too. + +Why joys so scantily disburse, + Why Paradise defer, +Why floods are served to us in bowls, -- + I speculate no more. + + + + + +V. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +When roses cease to bloom, dear, + And violets are done, +When bumble-bees in solemn flight + Have passed beyond the sun, + +The hand that paused to gather + Upon this summer's day +Will idle lie, in Auburn, -- + Then take my flower, pray! + + + + + +VI. + +SONG. + +Summer for thee grant I may be + When summer days are flown! +Thy music still when whippoorwill + And oriole are done! + +For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb + And sow my blossoms o'er! +Pray gather me, Anemone, + Thy flower forevermore! + + + + + +VII. + +LOYALTY. + +Split the lark and you'll find the music, + Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled, +Scantily dealt to the summer morning, + Saved for your ear when lutes be old. + +Loose the flood, you shall find it patent, + Gush after gush, reserved for you; +Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas, + Now, do you doubt that your bird was true? + + + + + +VIII. + +To lose thee, sweeter than to gain + All other hearts I knew. +'T is true the drought is destitute, + But then I had the dew! + +The Caspian has its realms of sand, + Its other realm of sea; +Without the sterile perquisite + No Caspian could be. + + + + + +IX. + + Poor little heart! + Did they forget thee? +Then dinna care! Then dinna care! + + Proud little heart! + Did they forsake thee? +Be debonair! Be debonair! + + Frail little heart! + I would not break thee: +Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? + + Gay little heart! + Like morning glory +Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be! + + + + + +X. + +FORGOTTEN. + +There is a word + Which bears a sword + Can pierce an armed man. +It hurls its barbed syllables,-- + At once is mute again. +But where it fell +The saved will tell + On patriotic day, +Some epauletted brother + Gave his breath away. + +Wherever runs the breathless sun, + Wherever roams the day, +There is its noiseless onset, + There is its victory! + +Behold the keenest marksman! + The most accomplished shot! +Time's sublimest target + Is a soul 'forgot'! + + + + + +XI. + +I've got an arrow here; + Loving the hand that sent it, +I the dart revere. + +Fell, they will say, in 'skirmish'! + Vanquished, my soul will know, +By but a simple arrow + Sped by an archer's bow. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MASTER. + +He fumbles at your spirit + As players at the keys +Before they drop full music on; + He stuns you by degrees, + +Prepares your brittle substance + For the ethereal blow, +By fainter hammers, further heard, + Then nearer, then so slow + +Your breath has time to straighten, + Your brain to bubble cool, -- +Deals one imperial thunderbolt + That scalps your naked soul. + + + + + +XIII. + +Heart, we will forget him! + You and I, to-night! +You may forget the warmth he gave, + I will forget the light. + +When you have done, pray tell me, + That I my thoughts may dim; +Haste! lest while you're lagging, + I may remember him! + + + + + +XIV. + +Father, I bring thee not myself, -- + That were the little load; +I bring thee the imperial heart + I had not strength to hold. + +The heart I cherished in my own + Till mine too heavy grew, +Yet strangest, heavier since it went, + Is it too large for you? + + + + + +XV. + +We outgrow love like other things + And put it in the drawer, +Till it an antique fashion shows + Like costumes grandsires wore. + + + + + +XVI. + +Not with a club the heart is broken, + Nor with a stone; +A whip, so small you could not see it. + I've known + +To lash the magic creature + Till it fell, +Yet that whip's name too noble + Then to tell. + +Magnanimous of bird + By boy descried, +To sing unto the stone + Of which it died. + + + + + +XVII. + +WHO? + +My friend must be a bird, + Because it flies! +Mortal my friend must be, + Because it dies! +Barbs has it, like a bee. +Ah, curious friend, + Thou puzzlest me! + + + + + +XVIII. + +He touched me, so I live to know +That such a day, permitted so, + I groped upon his breast. +It was a boundless place to me, +And silenced, as the awful sea + Puts minor streams to rest. + +And now, I'm different from before, +As if I breathed superior air, + Or brushed a royal gown; +My feet, too, that had wandered so, +My gypsy face transfigured now + To tenderer renown. + + + + + +XIX. + +DREAMS. + +Let me not mar that perfect dream + By an auroral stain, +But so adjust my daily night + That it will come again. + + + + + +XX. + +NUMEN LUMEN. + +I live with him, I see his face; + I go no more away +For visitor, or sundown; + Death's single privacy, + +The only one forestalling mine, + And that by right that he +Presents a claim invisible, + No wedlock granted me. + +I live with him, I hear his voice, + I stand alive to-day +To witness to the certainty + Of immortality + +Taught me by Time, -- the lower way, + Conviction every day, -- +That life like this is endless, + Be judgment what it may. + + + + + +XXI. + +LONGING. + +I envy seas whereon he rides, + I envy spokes of wheels +Of chariots that him convey, + I envy speechless hills + +That gaze upon his journey; + How easy all can see +What is forbidden utterly + As heaven, unto me! + +I envy nests of sparrows + That dot his distant eaves, +The wealthy fly upon his pane, + The happy, happy leaves + +That just abroad his window + Have summer's leave to be, +The earrings of Pizarro + Could not obtain for me. + +I envy light that wakes him, + And bells that boldly ring +To tell him it is noon abroad, -- + Myself his noon could bring, + +Yet interdict my blossom + And abrogate my bee, +Lest noon in everlasting night + Drop Gabriel and me. + + + + + +XXII. + +WEDDED. + +A solemn thing it was, I said, + A woman white to be, +And wear, if God should count me fit, + Her hallowed mystery. + +A timid thing to drop a life + Into the purple well, +Too plummetless that it come back + Eternity until. + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +NATURE'S CHANGES. + +The springtime's pallid landscape + Will glow like bright bouquet, +Though drifted deep in parian + The village lies to-day. + +The lilacs, bending many a year, + With purple load will hang; +The bees will not forget the tune + Their old forefathers sang. + +The rose will redden in the bog, + The aster on the hill +Her everlasting fashion set, + And covenant gentians frill, + +Till summer folds her miracle + As women do their gown, +Or priests adjust the symbols + When sacrament is done. + + + + + +II. + +THE TULIP. + +She slept beneath a tree + Remembered but by me. +I touched her cradle mute; +She recognized the foot, +Put on her carmine suit, -- + And see! + + + + + +III. + +A light exists in spring + Not present on the year +At any other period. + When March is scarcely here + +A color stands abroad + On solitary hills +That science cannot overtake, + But human nature feels. + +It waits upon the lawn; + It shows the furthest tree +Upon the furthest slope we know; + It almost speaks to me. + +Then, as horizons step, + Or noons report away, +Without the formula of sound, + It passes, and we stay: + +A quality of loss + Affecting our content, +As trade had suddenly encroached + Upon a sacrament. + + + + + +IV. + +THE WAKING YEAR. + +A lady red upon the hill + Her annual secret keeps; +A lady white within the field + In placid lily sleeps! + +The tidy breezes with their brooms + Sweep vale, and hill, and tree! +Prithee, my pretty housewives! + Who may expected be? + +The neighbors do not yet suspect! + The woods exchange a smile -- +Orchard, and buttercup, and bird -- + In such a little while! + +And yet how still the landscape stands, + How nonchalant the wood, +As if the resurrection + Were nothing very odd! + + + + + +V. + +TO MARCH. + +Dear March, come in! +How glad I am! +I looked for you before. +Put down your hat -- +You must have walked -- +How out of breath you are! +Dear March, how are you? +And the rest? +Did you leave Nature well? +Oh, March, come right upstairs with me, +I have so much to tell! + +I got your letter, and the birds'; +The maples never knew +That you were coming, -- I declare, +How red their faces grew! +But, March, forgive me -- +And all those hills +You left for me to hue; +There was no purple suitable, +You took it all with you. + +Who knocks? That April! +Lock the door! +I will not be pursued! +He stayed away a year, to call +When I am occupied. +But trifles look so trivial +As soon as you have come, +That blame is just as dear as praise +And praise as mere as blame. + + + + + +VI. + +MARCH. + +We like March, his shoes are purple, + He is new and high; +Makes he mud for dog and peddler, + Makes he forest dry; +Knows the adder's tongue his coming, + And begets her spot. +Stands the sun so close and mighty + That our minds are hot. +News is he of all the others; + Bold it were to die +With the blue-birds buccaneering + On his British sky. + + + + +VII. + +DAWN. + +Not knowing when the dawn will come + I open every door; +Or has it feathers like a bird, + Or billows like a shore? + + + + + +VIII. + +A murmur in the trees to note, + Not loud enough for wind; +A star not far enough to seek, + Nor near enough to find; + +A long, long yellow on the lawn, + A hubbub as of feet; +Not audible, as ours to us, + But dapperer, more sweet; + +A hurrying home of little men + To houses unperceived, -- +All this, and more, if I should tell, + Would never be believed. + +Of robins in the trundle bed + How many I espy +Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings, + Although I heard them try! + +But then I promised ne'er to tell; + How could I break my word? +So go your way and I'll go mine, -- + No fear you'll miss the road. + + + + + +IX. + +Morning is the place for dew, + Corn is made at noon, +After dinner light for flowers, + Dukes for setting sun! + + + + + +X. + +To my quick ear the leaves conferred; + The bushes they were bells; +I could not find a privacy + From Nature's sentinels. + +In cave if I presumed to hide, + The walls began to tell; +Creation seemed a mighty crack + To make me visible. + + + + + +XI. + +A ROSE. + +A sepal, petal, and a thorn + Upon a common summer's morn, +A flash of dew, a bee or two, +A breeze +A caper in the trees, -- + And I'm a rose! + + + + + +XII. + +High from the earth I heard a bird; + He trod upon the trees +As he esteemed them trifles, + And then he spied a breeze, +And situated softly + Upon a pile of wind +Which in a perturbation + Nature had left behind. +A joyous-going fellow + I gathered from his talk, +Which both of benediction + And badinage partook, +Without apparent burden, + I learned, in leafy wood +He was the faithful father + Of a dependent brood; +And this untoward transport + His remedy for care, -- +A contrast to our respites. + How different we are! + + + + + +XIII. + +COBWEBS. + +The spider as an artist + Has never been employed +Though his surpassing merit + Is freely certified + +By every broom and Bridget + Throughout a Christian land. +Neglected son of genius, + I take thee by the hand. + + + + + +XIV. + +A WELL. + +What mystery pervades a well! + The water lives so far, +Like neighbor from another world + Residing in a jar. + +The grass does not appear afraid; + I often wonder he +Can stand so close and look so bold + At what is dread to me. + +Related somehow they may be, -- + The sedge stands next the sea, +Where he is floorless, yet of fear + No evidence gives he. + +But nature is a stranger yet; + The ones that cite her most +Have never passed her haunted house, + Nor simplified her ghost. + +To pity those that know her not + Is helped by the regret +That those who know her, know her less + The nearer her they get. + + + + + +XV. + +To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, -- +One clover, and a bee, +And revery. +The revery alone will do +If bees are few. + + + + + +XVI. + +THE WIND. + +It's like the light, -- + A fashionless delight +It's like the bee, -- + A dateless melody. + +It's like the woods, + Private like breeze, +Phraseless, yet it stirs + The proudest trees. + +It's like the morning, -- + Best when it's done, -- +The everlasting clocks + Chime noon. + + + + + +XVII. + +A dew sufficed itself + And satisfied a leaf, +And felt, 'how vast a destiny! + How trivial is life!' + +The sun went out to work, + The day went out to play, +But not again that dew was seen + By physiognomy. + +Whether by day abducted, + Or emptied by the sun +Into the sea, in passing, + Eternally unknown. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE WOODPECKER. + +His bill an auger is, + His head, a cap and frill. +He laboreth at every tree, -- + A worm his utmost goal. + + + + + +XIX. + +A SNAKE. + +Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, + Until we meet a snake; +'T is then we sigh for houses, + And our departure take +At that enthralling gallop + That only childhood knows. +A snake is summer's treason, + And guile is where it goes. + + + + + +XX. + +Could I but ride indefinite, + As doth the meadow-bee, +And visit only where I liked, + And no man visit me, + +And flirt all day with buttercups, + And marry whom I may, +And dwell a little everywhere, + Or better, run away + +With no police to follow, + Or chase me if I do, +Till I should jump peninsulas + To get away from you, -- + +I said, but just to be a bee + Upon a raft of air, +And row in nowhere all day long, + And anchor off the bar,-- +What liberty! So captives deem + Who tight in dungeons are. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOON. + +The moon was but a chin of gold + A night or two ago, +And now she turns her perfect face + Upon the world below. + +Her forehead is of amplest blond; + Her cheek like beryl stone; +Her eye unto the summer dew + The likest I have known. + +Her lips of amber never part; + But what must be the smile +Upon her friend she could bestow + Were such her silver will! + +And what a privilege to be + But the remotest star! +For certainly her way might pass + Beside your twinkling door. + +Her bonnet is the firmament, + The universe her shoe, +The stars the trinkets at her belt, + Her dimities of blue. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE BAT. + +The bat is dun with wrinkled wings + Like fallow article, +And not a song pervades his lips, + Or none perceptible. + +His small umbrella, quaintly halved, + Describing in the air +An arc alike inscrutable, -- + Elate philosopher! + +Deputed from what firmament + Of what astute abode, +Empowered with what malevolence + Auspiciously withheld. + +To his adroit Creator + Ascribe no less the praise; +Beneficent, believe me, + His eccentricities. + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE BALLOON. + +You've seen balloons set, haven't you? + So stately they ascend +It is as swans discarded you + For duties diamond. + +Their liquid feet go softly out + Upon a sea of blond; +They spurn the air as 't were too mean + For creatures so renowned. + +Their ribbons just beyond the eye, + They struggle some for breath, +And yet the crowd applauds below; + They would not encore death. + +The gilded creature strains and spins, + Trips frantic in a tree, +Tears open her imperial veins + And tumbles in the sea. + +The crowd retire with an oath + The dust in streets goes down, +And clerks in counting-rooms observe, + ''T was only a balloon.' + + + + + +XXIV. + +EVENING. + +The cricket sang, +And set the sun, +And workmen finished, one by one, + Their seam the day upon. + +The low grass loaded with the dew, +The twilight stood as strangers do +With hat in hand, polite and new, + To stay as if, or go. + +A vastness, as a neighbor, came, -- +A wisdom without face or name, +A peace, as hemispheres at home, -- + And so the night became. + + + + + +XXV. + +COCOON. + +Drab habitation of whom? +Tabernacle or tomb, +Or dome of worm, +Or porch of gnome, +Or some elf's catacomb? + + + + +XXVI. + +SUNSET. + +A sloop of amber slips away + Upon an ether sea, +And wrecks in peace a purple tar, + The son of ecstasy. + + + + + +XXVII. + +AURORA. + +Of bronze and blaze + The north, to-night! + So adequate its forms, +So preconcerted with itself, + So distant to alarms, -- +An unconcern so sovereign + To universe, or me, +It paints my simple spirit + With tints of majesty, +Till I take vaster attitudes, + And strut upon my stem, +Disdaining men and oxygen, + For arrogance of them. + +My splendors are menagerie; + But their competeless show +Will entertain the centuries + When I am, long ago, +An island in dishonored grass, + Whom none but daisies know. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +THE COMING OF NIGHT. + +How the old mountains drip with sunset, + And the brake of dun! +How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel + By the wizard sun! + +How the old steeples hand the scarlet, + Till the ball is full, -- +Have I the lip of the flamingo + That I dare to tell? + +Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, + Touching all the grass +With a departing, sapphire feature, + As if a duchess pass! + +How a small dusk crawls on the village + Till the houses blot; +And the odd flambeaux no men carry + Glimmer on the spot! + +Now it is night in nest and kennel, + And where was the wood, +Just a dome of abyss is nodding + Into solitude! -- + +These are the visions baffled Guido; + Titian never told; +Domenichino dropped the pencil, + Powerless to unfold. + + + + + +XXIX. + +AFTERMATH. + +The murmuring of bees has ceased; + But murmuring of some +Posterior, prophetic, + Has simultaneous come, -- + +The lower metres of the year, + When nature's laugh is done, -- +The Revelations of the book + Whose Genesis is June. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +This world is not conclusion; + A sequel stands beyond, +Invisible, as music, + But positive, as sound. +It beckons and it baffles; + Philosophies don't know, +And through a riddle, at the last, + Sagacity must go. +To guess it puzzles scholars; + To gain it, men have shown +Contempt of generations, + And crucifixion known. + + + + + +II. + +We learn in the retreating + How vast an one +Was recently among us. + A perished sun + +Endears in the departure + How doubly more +Than all the golden presence + It was before! + + + + + +III. + +They say that 'time assuages,' -- + Time never did assuage; +An actual suffering strengthens, + As sinews do, with age. + +Time is a test of trouble, + But not a remedy. +If such it prove, it prove too + There was no malady. + + + + + +IV. + +We cover thee, sweet face. + Not that we tire of thee, +But that thyself fatigue of us; + Remember, as thou flee, +We follow thee until + Thou notice us no more, +And then, reluctant, turn away + To con thee o'er and o'er, +And blame the scanty love + We were content to show, +Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold + If thou would'st take it now. + + + + + +V. + +ENDING. + +That is solemn we have ended, -- + Be it but a play, +Or a glee among the garrets, + Or a holiday, + +Or a leaving home; or later, + Parting with a world +We have understood, for better + Still it be unfurled. + + + + + +VI. + +The stimulus, beyond the grave + His countenance to see, +Supports me like imperial drams + Afforded royally. + + + + + +VII. + +Given in marriage unto thee, + Oh, thou celestial host! +Bride of the Father and the Son, + Bride of the Holy Ghost! + +Other betrothal shall dissolve, + Wedlock of will decay; +Only the keeper of this seal + Conquers mortality. + + + + + + +VIII. + +That such have died enables us + The tranquiller to die; +That such have lived, certificate + For immortality. + + + + + +IX. + +They won't frown always, -- some sweet day + When I forget to tease, +They'll recollect how cold I looked, + And how I just said 'please.' + +Then they will hasten to the door + To call the little child, +Who cannot thank them, for the ice + That on her lisping piled. + + + + + +X. + +IMMORTALITY. + +It is an honorable thought, + And makes one lift one's hat, +As one encountered gentlefolk + Upon a daily street, + +That we've immortal place, + Though pyramids decay, +And kingdoms, like the orchard, + Flit russetly away. + + + + + +XI. + +The distance that the dead have gone + Does not at first appear; +Their coming back seems possible + For many an ardent year. + +And then, that we have followed them + We more than half suspect, +So intimate have we become + With their dear retrospect. + + + + + +XII. + +How dare the robins sing, + When men and women hear +Who since they went to their account + Have settled with the year! -- +Paid all that life had earned + In one consummate bill, +And now, what life or death can do + Is immaterial. +Insulting is the sun + To him whose mortal light, +Beguiled of immortality, + Bequeaths him to the night. +In deference to him + Extinct be every hum, +Whose garden wrestles with the dew, + At daybreak overcome! + + + + + +XIII. + +DEATH. + +Death is like the insect + Menacing the tree, +Competent to kill it, + But decoyed may be. + +Bait it with the balsam, + Seek it with the knife, +Baffle, if it cost you + Everything in life. + +Then, if it have burrowed + Out of reach of skill, +Ring the tree and leave it, -- + 'T is the vermin's will. + + + + + +XIV. + +UNWARNED. + +'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou + No station in the day? +'T was not thy wont to hinder so, -- + Retrieve thine industry. + +'T is noon, my little maid, alas! + And art thou sleeping yet? +The lily waiting to be wed, + The bee, dost thou forget? + +My little maid, 't is night; alas, + That night should be to thee +Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached + Thy little plan to me, +Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet, + I might have aided thee. + + + + + +XV. + +Each that we lose takes part of us; + A crescent still abides, +Which like the moon, some turbid night, + Is summoned by the tides. + + + + + +XVI. + +Not any higher stands the grave + For heroes than for men; +Not any nearer for the child + Than numb three-score and ten. + +This latest leisure equal lulls + The beggar and his queen; +Propitiate this democrat + By summer's gracious mien. + + + + + +XVII. + +ASLEEP. + +As far from pity as complaint, + As cool to speech as stone, +As numb to revelation + As if my trade were bone. + +As far from time as history, + As near yourself to-day +As children to the rainbow's scarf, + Or sunset's yellow play + +To eyelids in the sepulchre. + How still the dancer lies, +While color's revelations break, + And blaze the butterflies! + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SPIRIT. + +'T is whiter than an Indian pipe, + 'T is dimmer than a lace; +No stature has it, like a fog, + When you approach the place. + +Not any voice denotes it here, + Or intimates it there; +A spirit, how doth it accost? + What customs hath the air? + +This limitless hyperbole + Each one of us shall be; +'T is drama, if (hypothesis) + It be not tragedy! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MONUMENT. + +She laid her docile crescent down, + And this mechanic stone +Still states, to dates that have forgot, + The news that she is gone. + +So constant to its stolid trust, + The shaft that never knew, +It shames the constancy that fled + Before its emblem flew. + + + + + +XX. + +Bless God, he went as soldiers, + His musket on his breast; +Grant, God, he charge the bravest + Of all the martial blest. + +Please God, might I behold him + In epauletted white, +I should not fear the foe then, + I should not fear the fight. + + + + + +XXI. + +Immortal is an ample word + When what we need is by, +But when it leaves us for a time, + 'T is a necessity. + +Of heaven above the firmest proof + We fundamental know, +Except for its marauding hand, + It had been heaven below. + + + + + +XXII. + +Where every bird is bold to go, + And bees abashless play, +The foreigner before he knocks + Must thrust the tears away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The grave my little cottage is, + Where, keeping house for thee, +I make my parlor orderly, + And lay the marble tea, + +For two divided, briefly, + A cycle, it may be, +Till everlasting life unite + In strong society. + + + + + +XXIV. + +This was in the white of the year, + That was in the green, +Drifts were as difficult then to think + As daisies now to be seen. + +Looking back is best that is left, + Or if it be before, +Retrospection is prospect's half, + Sometimes almost more. + + + + + +XXV. + +Sweet hours have perished here; + This is a mighty room; +Within its precincts hopes have played, -- + Now shadows in the tomb. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Me! Come! My dazzled face +In such a shining place! + +Me! Hear! My foreign ear +The sounds of welcome near! + +The saints shall meet +Our bashful feet. + +My holiday shall be +That they remember me; + +My paradise, the fame +That they pronounce my name. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INVISIBLE. + +From us she wandered now a year, + Her tarrying unknown; +If wilderness prevent her feet, + Or that ethereal zone + +No eye hath seen and lived, + We ignorant must be. +We only know what time of year + We took the mystery. + + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I wish I knew that woman's name, + So, when she comes this way, +To hold my life, and hold my ears, + For fear I hear her say + +She's 'sorry I am dead,' again, + Just when the grave and I +Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, -- + Our only lullaby. + + + + + +XXIX. + +TRYING TO FORGET. + +Bereaved of all, I went abroad, + No less bereaved to be +Upon a new peninsula, -- + The grave preceded me, + +Obtained my lodgings ere myself, + And when I sought my bed, +The grave it was, reposed upon + The pillow for my head. + +I waked, to find it first awake, + I rose, -- it followed me; +I tried to drop it in the crowd, + To lose it in the sea, + +In cups of artificial drowse + To sleep its shape away, -- +The grave was finished, but the spade + Remained in memory. + + + + + +XXX. + +I felt a funeral in my brain, + And mourners, to and fro, +Kept treading, treading, till it seemed + That sense was breaking through. + +And when they all were seated, + A service like a drum +Kept beating, beating, till I thought + My mind was going numb. + +And then I heard them lift a box, + And creak across my soul +With those same boots of lead, again. + Then space began to toll + +As all the heavens were a bell, + And Being but an ear, +And I and silence some strange race, + Wrecked, solitary, here. + + + + + +XXXI. + +I meant to find her when I came; + Death had the same design; +But the success was his, it seems, + And the discomfit mine. + +I meant to tell her how I longed + For just this single time; +But Death had told her so the first, + And she had hearkened him. + +To wander now is my abode; + To rest, -- to rest would be +A privilege of hurricane + To memory and me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +WAITING. + +I sing to use the waiting, + My bonnet but to tie, +And shut the door unto my house; + No more to do have I, + +Till, his best step approaching, + We journey to the day, +And tell each other how we sang + To keep the dark away. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +A sickness of this world it most occasions + When best men die; +A wishfulness their far condition + To occupy. + +A chief indifference, as foreign + A world must be +Themselves forsake contented, + For Deity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +Superfluous were the sun + When excellence is dead; +He were superfluous every day, + For every day is said + +That syllable whose faith + Just saves it from despair, +And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates + If love inquire, 'Where?' + +Upon his dateless fame + Our periods may lie, +As stars that drop anonymous + From an abundant sky. + + + + + +XXXV. + +So proud she was to die + It made us all ashamed +That what we cherished, so unknown + To her desire seemed. + +So satisfied to go + Where none of us should be, +Immediately, that anguish stooped + Almost to jealousy. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +FAREWELL. + +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 bridges, + And never I mind the sea; +Held fast in everlasting race + By my own choice and thee. + +Good-by to the life I used to live, + And the world I used to know; +And kiss the hills for me, just once; + Now I am ready to go! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +The dying need but little, dear, -- + A glass of water's all, +A flower's unobtrusive face + To punctuate the wall, + +A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret, + And certainly that one +No color in the rainbow + Perceives when you are gone. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +DEAD. + +There's something quieter than sleep + Within this inner room! +It wears a sprig upon its breast, + And will not tell its name. + +Some touch it and some kiss it, + Some chafe its idle hand; +It has a simple gravity + I do not understand! + +While simple-hearted neighbors + Chat of the 'early dead,' +We, prone to periphrasis, + Remark that birds have fled! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +The soul should always stand ajar, + That if the heaven inquire, +He will not be obliged to wait, + Or shy of troubling her. + +Depart, before the host has slid + The bolt upon the door, +To seek for the accomplished guest, -- + Her visitor no more. + + + + + +XL. + +Three weeks passed since I had seen her, -- + Some disease had vexed; +'T was with text and village singing + I beheld her next, + +And a company -- our pleasure + To discourse alone; +Gracious now to me as any, + Gracious unto none. + +Borne, without dissent of either, + To the parish night; +Of the separated people + Which are out of sight? + + + + + +XLI. + +I breathed enough to learn the trick, + And now, removed from air, +I simulate the breath so well, + That one, to be quite sure + +The lungs are stirless, must descend + Among the cunning cells, +And touch the pantomime himself. + How cool the bellows feels! + + + + + +XLII. + +I wonder if the sepulchre + Is not a lonesome way, +When men and boys, and larks and June + Go down the fields to hay! + + + + + +XLIII. + +JOY IN DEATH. + +If tolling bell I ask the cause. + 'A soul has gone to God,' +I'm answered in a lonesome tone; + Is heaven then so sad? + +That bells should joyful ring to tell + A soul had gone to heaven, +Would seem to me the proper way + A good news should be given. + + + + + +XLIV. + +If I may have it when it's dead + I will contented be; +If just as soon as breath is out + It shall belong to me, + +Until they lock it in the grave, + 'T is bliss I cannot weigh, +For though they lock thee in the grave, + Myself can hold the key. + +Think of it, lover! I and thee + Permitted face to face to be; +After a life, a death we'll say, -- + For death was that, and this is thee. + + + + + +XLV. + +Before the ice is in the pools, + Before the skaters go, +Or any cheek at nightfall + Is tarnished by the snow, + +Before the fields have finished, + Before the Christmas tree, +Wonder upon wonder + Will arrive to me! + +What we touch the hems of + On a summer's day; +What is only walking + Just a bridge away; + +That which sings so, speaks so, + When there's no one here, -- +Will the frock I wept in + Answer me to wear? + + + + + +XLVI. + +DYING. + +I heard a fly buzz when I died; + The stillness round my form +Was like the stillness in the air + Between the heaves of storm. + +The eyes beside had wrung them dry, + And breaths were gathering sure +For that last onset, when the king + Be witnessed in his power. + +I willed my keepsakes, signed away + What portion of me I +Could make assignable, -- and then + There interposed a fly, + +With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz, + Between the light and me; +And then the windows failed, and then + I could not see to see. + + + + + +XLVII. + +Adrift! A little boat adrift! + And night is coming down! +Will no one guide a little boat + Unto the nearest town? + +So sailors say, on yesterday, + Just as the dusk was brown, +One little boat gave up its strife, + And gurgled down and down. + +But angels say, on yesterday, + Just as the dawn was red, +One little boat o'erspent with gales +Retrimmed its masts, redecked its sails + Exultant, onward sped! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +There's been a death in the opposite house + As lately as to-day. +I know it by the numb look + Such houses have alway. + +The neighbors rustle in and out, + The doctor drives away. +A window opens like a pod, + Abrupt, mechanically; + +Somebody flings a mattress out, -- + The children hurry by; +They wonder if It died on that, -- + I used to when a boy. + +The minister goes stiffly in + As if the house were his, +And he owned all the mourners now, + And little boys besides; + +And then the milliner, and the man + Of the appalling trade, +To take the measure of the house. + There'll be that dark parade + +Of tassels and of coaches soon; + It's easy as a sign, -- +The intuition of the news + In just a country town. + + + + + +XLIX. + +We never know we go, -- when we are going + We jest and shut the door; +Fate following behind us bolts it, + And we accost no more. + + + + +L. + +THE SOUL'S STORM. + +It struck me every day + The lightning was as new +As if the cloud that instant slit + And let the fire through. + +It burned me in the night, + It blistered in my dream; +It sickened fresh upon my sight + With every morning's beam. + +I thought that storm was brief, -- + The maddest, quickest by; +But Nature lost the date of this, + And left it in the sky. + + + + + +LI. + +Water is taught by thirst; +Land, by the oceans passed; + Transport, by throe; +Peace, by its battles told; +Love, by memorial mould; + Birds, by the snow. + + + + +LII. + +THIRST. + +We thirst at first, -- 't is Nature's act; + And later, when we die, +A little water supplicate + Of fingers going by. + +It intimates the finer want, + Whose adequate supply +Is that great water in the west + Termed immortality. + + + + + +LIII. + +A clock stopped -- not the mantel's; + Geneva's farthest skill +Can't put the puppet bowing + That just now dangled still. + +An awe came on the trinket! + The figures hunched with pain, +Then quivered out of decimals + Into degreeless noon. + +It will not stir for doctors, + This pendulum of snow; +The shopman importunes it, + While cool, concernless No + +Nods from the gilded pointers, + Nods from the seconds slim, +Decades of arrogance between + The dial life and him. + + + + + +LIV. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S GRAVE. + +All overgrown by cunning moss, + All interspersed with weed, +The little cage of 'Currer Bell,' + In quiet Haworth laid. + +This bird, observing others, + When frosts too sharp became, +Retire to other latitudes, + Quietly did the same, + +But differed in returning; + Since Yorkshire hills are green, +Yet not in all the nests I meet + Can nightingale be seen. + +Gathered from many wanderings, + Gethsemane can tell +Through what transporting anguish + She reached the asphodel! + +Soft fall the sounds of Eden + Upon her puzzled ear; +Oh, what an afternoon for heaven, + When 'Bronte' entered there! + + + + + +LV. + +A toad can die of light! +Death is the common right + Of toads and men, -- +Of earl and midge +The privilege. + Why swagger then? +The gnat's supremacy +Is large as thine. + + + + + +LVI. + +Far from love the Heavenly Father + Leads the chosen child; +Oftener through realm of briar + Than the meadow mild, + +Oftener by the claw of dragon + Than the hand of friend, +Guides the little one predestined + To the native land. + + + + + +LVII. + +SLEEPING. + +A long, long sleep, a famous sleep + That makes no show for dawn +By stretch of limb or stir of lid, -- + An independent one. + +Was ever idleness like this? + Within a hut of stone +To bask the centuries away + Nor once look up for noon? + + + + + +LVIII. + +RETROSPECT. + +'T was just this time last year I died. + I know I heard the corn, +When I was carried by the farms, -- + It had the tassels on. + +I thought how yellow it would look + When Richard went to mill; +And then I wanted to get out, + But something held my will. + +I thought just how red apples wedged + The stubble's joints between; +And carts went stooping round the fields + To take the pumpkins in. + +I wondered which would miss me least, + And when Thanksgiving came, +If father'd multiply the plates + To make an even sum. + +And if my stocking hung too high, + Would it blur the Christmas glee, +That not a Santa Claus could reach + The altitude of me? + +But this sort grieved myself, and so + I thought how it would be +When just this time, some perfect year, + Themselves should come to me. + + + + + +LIX. + +ETERNITY. + +On this wondrous sea, +Sailing silently, + Ho! pilot, ho! +Knowest thou the shore +Where no breakers roar, + Where the storm is o'er? + +In the silent west +Many sails at rest, + Their anchors fast; +Thither I pilot thee, -- +Land, ho! Eternity! + Ashore at last! + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 12242.txt or 12242.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/4/12242/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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