A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring In contrast with the things that sing Not Birds entirely but Minds Minute Effulgencies and Winds When what they sung for is undone Who cares about a

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in The mind was built for mighty Freight For dread occasion

Because my Brook is fluent I know ’tis dry Because my Brook is silent It is the Sea And startled at its rising I try to flee To where the Strong assure me Is

The Test of Love is Death Our Lord “so loved” it saith What Largest Lover hath Another doth If smaller Patience be Through less Infinity If Bravo, sometimes swerve Through fainter Nerve Accept its

Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between. To fail within a Chance How terribler a thing Than perish from the Chance’s list Before the

Till Death is narrow Loving The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness be spent But He whose loss procures you Such Destitution that Your Life too abject for itself

Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun, Gently replacing In oblivion

The mob within the heart Police cannot suppress The riot given at the first Is authorized as peace Uncertified of scene Or signified of sound But growing like a hurricane In a congenial ground.

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

Those who have been in the Grave the longest Those who begin Today Equally perish from our Practise Death is the other way Foot of the Bold did least attempt it It is the

Bound a trouble And lives can bear it! Limit how deep a bleeding go! So many drops of vital scarlet Deal with the soul As with Algebra! Tell it the Ages to a cypher

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine, Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine! Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering,

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

So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes. So from Cocoon Many a Worm Leap so Highland gay, Peasants like me, Peasants like Thee

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

If I’m lost now That I was found Shall still my transport be That once on me those Jasper Gates Blazed open suddenly That in my awkward gazing face The Angels softly peered And

The Treason of an accent Might Ecstasy transfer Of her effacing Fathom Is no Recoverer The Treason of an Accent Might vilify the Joy To breathe corrode the rapture Of Sanctity to be

The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad Diviner Crowd at Home Obliterate the need And Courtesy forbid A Host’s departure when Upon Himself be visiting The Emperor of Men

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

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

The Day undressed Herself Her Garter was of Gold Her Petticoat of Purple plain Her Dimities as old Exactly as the World And yet the newest Star Enrolled upon the Hemisphere Be wrinkled much

To make One’s Toilette after Death Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still That’s easier than Braid the Hair And make the Bodice gay When

I heard a Fly buzz when I died The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air Between the Heaves of Storm The Eyes around had wrung them dry And Breaths

Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the deep Her troubled question flings Thrice to the floating casement The Patriarch’s bird returned, Courage! My brave Columbia!

His little Hearse like Figure Unto itself a Dirge To a delusive Lilac The vanity divulge Of Industry and Morals And every righteous thing For the divine Perdition Of Idleness and Spring

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

Dominion lasts until obtained Possession just as long But these endowing as they flit Eternally belong. How everlasting are the Lips Known only to the Dew These are the Brides of permanence Supplanting me

That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived Enough That I shall love alway I argue thee That love is life And life hath Immortality This

How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity How mighty to the insecure Thy Physiognomy To whom not any Face cohere Unless concealed in thee

It’s thoughts and just One Heart And Old Sunshine about Make frugal Ones Content And two or three for Company Upon a Holiday Crowded as Sacrament Books when the Unit Spare the Tenant long

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

It is easy to work when the soul is at play But when the soul is in pain The hearing him put his playthings up Makes work difficult then It is simple, to ache

The pedigree of Honey Does not concern the Bee, Nor lineage of Ecstasy Delay the Butterfly On spangle journeys to the peak Of some perceiveless thing The right of way to Tripoli A more

Why make it doubt it hurts it so So sick to guess So strong to know So brave upon its little Bed To tell the very last They said Unto Itself and smile And

A prompt executive Bird is the Jay Bold as a Bailiff’s Hymn Brittle and Brief in quality Warrant in every line Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier Confident and straight Much is the mien

My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist! How martial is this place! Had I a mighty gun I think I’d shoot the human race

Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep To suspend the Breath Is the most we can Ignorant is it Life or Death Nicely

Not any sunny tone From any fervent zone Find entrance there Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature’s home And Robins near Than a stupendous Tomb Proclaiming to the Gloom How dead we

“Nature” is what we see The Hill the Afternoon Squirrel Eclipse the Bumble bee Nay Nature is Heaven Nature is what we hear The Bobolink the Sea Thunder the Cricket Nay Nature is Harmony

I send Two Sunsets Day and I in competition ran I finished Two and several Stars While He was making One His own was ampler but as I Was saying to a friend Mine

Where I have lost, I softer tread I sow sweet flower from garden bed I pause above that vanished head And mourn. Whom I have lost, I pious guard From accent harsh, or ruthless

The lonesome for they know not What The Eastern Exiles be Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday And ever since the purple Moat They strive to climb in vain As Birds

The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it How still That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it as well ‘Twas stiller though the first Was still “Twas

Left in immortal Youth On that low Plain That hath nor Retrospection Nor Again Ransomed from years Sequestered from Decay Canceled like Dawn In comprehensive Day

A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be Though God forbid it lift the lid Unto its Ecstasy! A Diagram of Rapture! A sixpence at a Show With Holy Ghosts in Cages!

Although I put away his life An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear, This might have been the Hand That sowed the flower, he preferred Or smoothed a homely pain,

If any sink, assure that this, now standing Failed like Themselves and conscious that it rose Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding How Weakness passed or Force arose Tell that the Worst,

Their Barricade against the Sky The martial Trees withdraw And with a Flag at every turn Their Armies are no more. What Russet Halts in Nature’s March They indicate or cause An inference of

Superiority to Fate Is difficult to gain ‘Tis not conferred of Any But possible to earn A pittance at a time Until to Her surprise The Soul with strict economy Subsist till Paradise.

Speech is one symptom of Affection And Silence one The perfectest communication Is heard of none Exists and its indorsement Is had within Behold, said the Apostle, Yet had not seen!