It will be Summer eventually. Ladies with parasols Sauntering Gentlemen with Canes And little Girls with Dolls Will tint the pallid landscape As ’twere a bright Bouquet Thro’ drifted deep, in Parian The Village

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 have slid The Bolt unto the Door

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon The Flower distinct and Red I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead Will equal glow, and thought no More But came another Day To find

The Color of the Grave is Green The Outer Grave I mean You would not know it from the Field Except it own a Stone To help the fond to find it Too infinite

Advance is Life’s condition The Grave but a Relay Supposed to be a terminus That makes it hated so The Tunnel is not lighted Existence with a wall Is better we consider Than not

‘Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War In which we each were Conqueror And each of us were slain And Centuries ’twill be and more Another Massacre before So modest and so vain Without a

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,

We send the Wave to find the Wave An Errand so divine, The Messenger enamored too, Forgetting to return, We make the wise distinction still, Soever made in vain, The sagest time to dam

It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness I’m so accustomed to my Fate Perhaps the Other Peace Would interrupt the Dark And crowd the little Room Too scant by Cubits to contain The Sacrament

I thought that nature was enough Till Human nature came But that the other did absorb As Parallax a Flame Of Human nature just aware There added the Divine Brief struggle for capacity The

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

What is “Paradise” Who live there Are they “Farmers” Do they “hoe” Do they know that this is “Amherst” And that I am coming too Do they wear “new shoes” in “Eden” Is it

Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito! Saucy, Saucy Seraph To elude me so! Father! they won’t tell me, Won’t you tell them to?

Life is what we make of it Death we do not know Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him though He would trust no stranger Other could betray Just His own endorsement That sufficeth Me

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

For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ration To the ecstasy. For each beloved hour Sharp pittances of years Bitter contested farthings And Coffers heaped with Tears!

Of Bronze and Blaze The North Tonight So adequate it forms So preconcerted with itself So distant to alarms And Unconcern so sovereign To Universe, or me Infects my simple spirit With Taints of

‘Tis easier to pity those when dead That which pity previous Would have saved A Tragedy enacted Secures Applause That Tragedy enacting Too seldom does.

I cannot want it more I cannot want it less My Human Nature’s fullest force Expends itself on this. And yet it nothing is To him who easy owns Is Worth itself or Distance

Forever it composed of Nows ‘Tis not a different time Except for Infiniteness And Latitude of Home From this experienced Here Remove the Dates to These Let Months dissolve in further Months And Years

Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told Isaac was an Urchin Abraham was old Not a hesitation Abraham complied Flattered by Obeisance Tyranny demurred Isaac to his children Lived to tell the tale Moral

Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury On the Heads that started with us Being’s Peasantry Recognizing in Procession Ones We former knew When Ourselves were also dusty Centuries ago Had the Triumph no

Peril as a Possesssion ‘Tis Good to hear Danger disintegrates Satiety There’s Basis there Begets an awe That searches Human Nature’s creases As clean as Fire.

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

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

Death warrants are supposed to be An enginery of equity A merciful mistake A pencil in an Idol’s Hand A Devotee has oft consigned To Crucifix or Block

To disappear enhances The Man that runs away Is tinctured for an instant With Immortality But yesterday a Vagrant Today in Memory lain With superstitious value We tamper with “Again” But “Never” far as

‘Twould ease a Butterfly Elate a Bee Thou’rt neither Neither thy capacity But, Blossom, were I, I would rather be Thy moment Than a Bee’s Eternity Content of fading Is enough for me Fade

The joy that has no stem no core, Nor seed that we can sow, Is edible to longing. But ablative to show. By fundamental palates Those products are preferred Impregnable to transit And patented

I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery Others whose instant’s wanting Would be Eternity The last a scanty Number ‘Twould scarcely fill a Two The first a Gnat’s Horizon Could easily outgrow

The Popular Heart is a Cannon first Subsequent a Drum Bells for an Auxiliary And an Afterward of Rum Not a Tomorrow to know its name Nor a Past to stare Ditches for Realms

I learned at least what Home could be How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant How awkward at the Hymn Round our new Fireside but for this This pattern of the

Our little Kinsmen after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon. A needless life, it seemed to me Until a little Bird As to a Hospitality

The Poets light but Lamps Themselves go out The Wicks they stimulate If vital Light Inhere as do the Suns Each Age a Lens Disseminating their Circumference

The Future never spoke Nor will He like the Dumb Reveal by sign a syllable Of His Profound To Come But when the News be ripe Presents it in the Act Forestalling Preparation Escape

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

How soft a Caterpillar steps I fond one on my Hand From such a velvet world it comes Such plushes at command Its soundless travels just arrest My slow terrestrial eye Intent upon its

Spring comes on the World I sight the Aprils Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative, Touched to Conditions By a Hum.

Bereaved of all, I went abroad No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula The Grave preceded me Obtained my Lodgings, ere myself And when I sought my Bed The Grave it was

At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or

The Symptom of the Gale The Second of Dismay Between its Rumor and its Face Is almost Revelry The Houses firmer root The Heavens cannot be found The Upper Surfaces of things Take covert

Funny to be a Century And see the People going by I should die of the Oddity But then I’m not so staid as He He keeps His Secrets safely very Were He to

All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May It rises train by train Then sleeps in state again My chancel all the plain Today. To lose if one can find again

The ones that disappeared are back The Phoebe and the Crow Precisely as in March is heard The curtness of the Jay Be this an Autumn or a Spring My wisdom loses way One

Departed to the Judgment A Mighty Afternoon Great Clouds like Ushers learning Creation looking on The Flesh Surrendered Cancelled The Bodiless begun Two Worlds like Audiences disperse And leave the Soul alone

Great Streets of silence led away To Neighborhoods of Pause Here was no Notice no Dissent No Universe no laws By Clocks, ’twas Morning, and for Night The Bells at Distance called But Epoch

There is a Zone whose even Years No Solstice interrupt Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon Whose perfect Seasons wait Whose Summer set in Summer, till The Centuries of June And Centuries of August cease

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 Today As Children,

It did not surprise me So I said or thought She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot, Traverse broader forests Build in gayer boughs, Breathe in Ear more modern God’s old fashioned

Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored, Shall stand to Our Right Hand Most precious and the Dead Next precious