Expanse cannot be lost
Expanse cannot be lost Not Joy, but a Decree Is Deity His Scene, Infinity Whose rumor’s Gate was shut so tight Before my Beam was sown, Not even a Prognostic’s push Could make a
To tell the Beauty would decrease
To tell the Beauty would decrease To state the Spell demean There is a syllable-less Sea Of which it is the sign My will endeavors for its word And fails, but entertains A Rapture
The Angle of a Landscape
The Angle of a Landscape That every time I wake Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack Like a Venetian waiting Accosts my open eye Is just a Bough of Apples
Experience is the Angled Road
Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By Paradox the Mind itself Presuming it to lead Quite Opposite How Complicate The Discipline of Man Compelling Him to Choose Himself His Preappointed Pain
Go not too near a House of Rose
Go not too near a House of Rose The depredation of a Breeze Or inundation of a Dew Alarms its walls away Nor try to tie the Butterfly, Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy,
Unfulfilled to Observation
Unfulfilled to Observation Incomplete to Eye But to Faith a Revolution In Locality Unto Us the Suns extinguish To our Opposite New Horizons they embellish Fronting Us with Night.
The Butterfly's Numidian Gown
The Butterfly’s Numidian Gown With spots of Burnish roasted on Is proof against the Sun Yet prone to shut its spotted Fan And panting on a Clover lean As if it were undone
There is another sky
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields – Here is a little forest, Whose
The Robin is a Gabriel
The Robin is a Gabriel In humble circumstances His Dress denotes him socially, Of Transport’s Working Classes He has the punctuality Of the New England Farmer The same oblique integrity, A Vista vastly warmer
I think the Hemlock likes to stand
I think the Hemlock likes to stand Upon a Marge of Snow It suits his own Austerity And satisfies an awe That men, must slake in Wilderness And in the Desert cloy An instinct
No man saw awe, nor to his house
No man saw awe, nor to his house Admitted he a man Though by his awful residence Has human nature been. Not deeming of his dread abode Till laboring to flee A grasp on
Summer laid her simple Hat
Summer laid her simple Hat On its boundless Shelf Unobserved a Ribbon slipt, Snatch it for yourself. Summer laid her supple Glove In its sylvan Drawer Wheresoe’er, or was she The demand of Awe?
It dropped so low in my Regard
It dropped so low in my Regard I heard it hit the Ground And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind Yet blamed the Fate that flung it less Than
Of Brussels it was not
Of Brussels it was not Of Kidderminster? Nay The Winds did buy it of the Woods They sold it unto me It was a gentle price The poorest could afford It was within the
I meant to find Her when I came
I meant to find Her when I came Death had the same design But the Success was His it seems And the Surrender Mine I meant to tell Her how I longed For just