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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2679.txt b/2679.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c68af2f --- /dev/null +++ b/2679.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4323 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Poems, Series 2, by Emily Dickinson +#2 in our series by Emily Dickinson + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext scanned by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Series Two + + + + +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 one 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, 1891. + + + + + + + + + + + + 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 did n'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 was n'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 does n'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 dulness, +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! 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