It was a quiet seeming Day
It was a quiet seeming Day There was no harm in earth or sky Till with the closing sun There strayed an accidental Red A Strolling Hue, one would have said To westward of
Ah, Necromancy Sweet!
Ah, Necromancy Sweet! Ah, Wizard erudite! Teach me the skill, That I instil the pain Surgeons assuage in vain, Nor Herb of all the plain Can Heal!
Three times we parted Breath and I
Three times we parted Breath and I Three times He would not go But strove to stir the lifeless Fan The Waters strove to stay. Three Times the Billows tossed me up Then caught
They dropped like Flakes
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
To put this World down, like a Bundle
To put this World down, like a Bundle And walk steady, away, Requires Energy possibly Agony ‘Tis the Scarlet way Trodden with straight renunciation By the Son of God Later, his faint Confederates Justify
A Moth the hue of this
A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale. Nature is fond, I sometimes think, Of Trinkets, as a Girl.
The Luxury to apprehend
The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury ‘twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me In whatsoever Presence makes Till for a further Food I scarcely recollect to starve So
The Red Blaze is the Morning
The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent
Only a Shrine, but Mine
Only a Shrine, but Mine I made the Taper shine Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come, Regard a Nun Thou knowest every Woe Needless to tell thee so But can’st thou do
The Sun kept setting setting still
The Sun kept setting setting still No Hue of Afternoon Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon The Dusk kept dropping dropping still No Dew upon the Grass But only
There are two Ripenings one of sight
There are two Ripenings one of sight Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground A homelier maturing A process in the Bur That teeth of Frosts alone disclose
Fame of Myself, to justify
Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous An Incense Beyond Necessity Fame of Myself to lack Although My Name be else Supreme This were an Honor honorless A futile Diadem
A Wind that rose
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird A Wind that woke a lone Delight Like Separation’s Swell Restored
Those dying then
Those dying then, Knew where they went They went to God’s Right Hand That Hand is amputated now And God cannot be found The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small Better an ignis
Under the Light, yet under
Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root, Further than Arm could stretch Were it Giant long, Further than Sunshine could Were the