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
There's been a Death, in the Opposite House
There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today I know it, by the numb look Such Houses have alway The Neighbors rustle in and out The Doctor drives away A
Pigmy seraphs gone astray
Pigmy seraphs gone astray Velvet people from Vevay Balles from some lost summer day Bees exclusive Coterie Paris could not lay the fold Belted down with Emerald Venice could not show a check Of
Had I presumed to hope
Had I presumed to hope The loss had been to Me A Value for the Greatness’ Sake As Giants gone away Had I presumed to gain A Favor so remote The failure but confirm
I tried to think a lonelier Thing
I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen Some Polar Expiation An Omen in the Bone Of Death’s tremendous nearness I probed Retrieverless things My Duplicate to borrow A Haggard
Undue Significance a starving man attaches
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
Of this is Day composed
Of this is Day composed A morning and a noon A Revelry unspeakable And then a gay unknown Whose Pomps allure and spurn And dower and deprive And penury for Glory Remedilessly leave.
One dignity delays for all
One dignity delays for all One mitred Afternoon None can avoid this purple None evade this Crown! Coach, it insures, and footmen Chamber, and state, and throng Bells, also, in the village As we
The Daisy follows soft the Sun
The Daisy follows soft the Sun And when his golden walk is done Sits shyly at his feet He waking finds the flower there Wherefore Marauder art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet!
I often passed the village
I often passed the village When going home from school And wondered what they did there And why it was so still I did not know the year then In which my call would
The Night was wide, and furnished scant
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
Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun
Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun Seductive in the Air That Tun is hollow but the Tun With Hundred Weights to spare Too ponderous to suspect the snare Espies that fickle chair
The Leaves like Women interchange
The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference. The Parties in both cases Enjoining secrecy Inviolable compact To notoriety.
The Lassitudes of Contemplation
The Lassitudes of Contemplation Beget a force They are the spirit’s still vacation That him refresh The Dreams consolidate in action What mettle fair
A shady friend for Torrid days
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 Hearts
We don't cry Tim and I
We don’t cry Tim and I, We are far too grand But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend Then we hide our brave face Deep in our hand Not to cry
To hang our head ostensibly
To hang our head ostensibly And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind Affords the sly presumption That in so dense a fuzz You too take Cobweb attitudes
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer’s day Will idle lie in
A Murmur in the Trees to note
A Murmur in the Trees to note Not loud enough for Wind A Star not far enough to seek Nor near enough to find A long long Yellow on the Lawn A Hubbub as
Elizabeth told Essex
Elizabeth told Essex That she could not forgive The clemency of Deity However might survive That secondary succor We trust that she partook When suing like her Essex For a reprieving Look
Some say goodnight at night
Some say goodnight at night I say goodnight by day Good-bye the Going utter me Goodnight, I still reply For parting, that is night, And presence, simply dawn Itself, the purple on the height
Heaven is so far of the Mind
Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved The Site of it by Architect Could not again be proved ‘Tis vast as our Capacity As fair as our idea To
To be alive is Power
To be alive is Power Existence in itself Without a further function Omnipotence Enough To be alive and Will! ‘Tis able as a God The Maker of Ourselves be what Such being Finitude!
Angels, in the early morning
Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping plucking smiling flying Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping
Our journey had advanced
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
I haven't told my garden yet
I haven’t told my garden yet Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee I will not name it in the street For shops would
Nobody knows this little Rose
Nobody knows this little Rose It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee. Only a Bee will miss it Only a Butterfly, Hastening
Flowers Well if anybody
Flowers Well if anybody Can the ecstasy define Half a transport half a trouble With which flowers humble men: Anybody find the fountain From which floods so contra flow I will give him all
I should not dare to be so sad
I should not dare to be so sad So many Years again A Load is first impossible When we have put it down The Superhuman then withdraws And we who never saw The Giant
Whether my bark went down at sea
Whether my bark went down at sea Whether she met with gales Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails By what mystic mooring She is held today This is the errand of
None who saw it ever told it
None who saw it ever told it ‘Tis as hid as Death Had for that specific treasure A departing breath Surfaces may be invested Did the Diamond grow General as the Dandelion Would you
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
How happy is the little Stone
How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears Whose Coat of elemental Brown A passing Universe put on, And independent as
Some one prepared this mighty show
Some one prepared this mighty show To which without a Ticket go The nations and the Days Displayed before the simplest Door That all may witness it and more, The pomp of summer Days.
The Robin's my Criterion for Tune
The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune Because I grow where Robins do But, were I Cuckoo born I’d swear by him The ode familiar rules the Noon The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom Because,
How brittle are the Piers
How brittle are the Piers On which our Faith doth tread No Bridge below doth totter so Yet none hath such a Crowd. It is as old as God Indeed ’twas built by him
One Day is there of the Series
One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory. Neither Patriarch nor Pussy I dissect the Play Seems it to my Hooded thinking Reflex Holiday. Had
Not with a Club, the Heart is broken
Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone A Whip so small you could not see it I’ve known To lash the Magic Creature Till it fell, Yet that Whip’s
Ended, ere it begun
Ended, ere it begun The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Consciousness The Story, unrevealed Had it been mine, to print! Had it been yours, to read! That it was not
The Lightning playeth all the while
The Lightning playeth all the while But when He singeth then Ourselves are conscious He exist And we approach Him stern With Insulators and a Glove Whose short sepulchral Bass Alarms us tho’ His
Delayed till she had ceased to know
Delayed till she had ceased to know Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay An hour behind the fleeting breath Later by just an hour than Death Oh lagging Yesterday!
There is a June when Corn is cut
There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed As should a Face supposed the Grave’s Emerge a single Noon In
To undertake is to achieve
To undertake is to achieve Be Undertaking blent With fortitude of obstacle And toward encouragement That fine Suspicion, Natures must Permitted to revere Departed Standards and the few Criterion Sources here
They say that "Time assuages"
They say that “Time assuages” Time never did assuage An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age Time is a Test of Trouble But not a Remedy If such it prove, it prove
The Grass so little has to do
The Grass so little has to do A Sphere of simple Green With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain And stir all day to pretty Tunes The Breezes fetch along And hold
His oriental heresies
His oriental heresies Exhilarate the Bee, And filling all the Earth and Air With gay apostasy Fatigued at last, a Clover plain Allures his jaded eye That lowly Breast where Butterflies Have felt it
The Zeroes taught us Phosphorous
The Zeroes taught us Phosphorous We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers when a Boy And Tinder guessed by power Of Opposite to balance Odd If White a Red must be! Paralysis
The Spider holds a Silver Ball
The Spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl unwinds He plies from Nought to Nought In unsubstantial Trade Supplants our Tapestries with His In
Love thou art high
Love thou art high I cannot climb thee But, were it Two Who know but we Taking turns at the Chimborazo Ducal at last stand up by thee Love thou are deep I cannot
Summer for thee, grant I may be
Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole are done! For thee to bloom, I’ll skip the tomb And row my blossoms o’er!
A slash of Blue
A slash of Blue A sweep of Gray Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky A little purple slipped between Some Ruby Trousers hurried on A Wave of Gold A Bank
The Months have ends the Years a knot
The Months have ends the Years a knot No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery The Earth lays back these tired lives In her mysterious Drawers Too tenderly,
Yesterday is History
Yesterday is History, ‘Tis so far away Yesterday is Poetry ‘Tis Philosophy Yesterday is mystery Where it is Today While we shrewdly speculate Flutter both away
A Saucer holds a Cup
A Saucer holds a Cup In sordid human Life But in a Squirrel’s estimate A Saucer hold a Loaf. A Table of a Tree Demands the little King And every Breeze that run along
Most she touched me by her muteness
Most she touched me by her muteness Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure Plea itself for Charity Were a Crumb my whole possession Were there famine in the
The way Hope builds his House
The way Hope builds his House It is not with a sill Nor Rafter has that Edifice But only Pinnacle Abode in as supreme This superficies As if it were of Ledges smit Or
Reverse cannot befall
Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior As soon Adversity A Diamond overtake In far Bolivian Ground Misfortune hath no implement Could mar it if it found
In Winter in my Room
In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm Pink, lank and warm But as he was a worm And worms presume Not quite with him at home Secured him by a string
I could not prove the Years had feet
I could not prove the Years had feet Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done I find my feet have further Goals I smile upon
Wolfe demanded during dying
Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British” “Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die” Montcalm, his opposing Spirit Rendered with a smile “Sweet” said he “my own Surrender Liberty’s beguile”
The reticent volcano keeps
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale Jehovah told to her Can human nature not survive Without
"They have not chosen me," he said
“They have not chosen me,” he said, “But I have chosen them!” Brave Broken hearted statement Uttered in Bethlehem! I could not have told it, But since Jesus dared Sovereign! Know a Daisy They
"Heaven" has different Signs to me
“Heaven” has different Signs to me Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the World And settles in the
We met as Sparks Diverging Flints
We met as Sparks Diverging Flints Sent various scattered ways We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze Subsisting on the Light We bore Before We felt the Dark A Flint
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart That knows and does not know And tosses like a Fleet of Balm Affronted by the snow Invites and then retards the Truth Lest Certainty be sere Compared with
A little Dog that wags his tail
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day Without an earthly cause Because
A curious Cloud surprised the Sky
A curious Cloud surprised the Sky, ‘Twas like a sheet with Horns; The sheet was Blue The Antlers Gray It almost touched the lawns. So low it leaned then statelier drew And trailed like
Long Years apart can make no
Long Years apart can make no Breach a second cannot fill The absence of the Witch does not Invalidate the spell The embers of a Thousand Years Uncovered by the Hand That fondled them
Four Trees upon a solitary Acre
Four Trees upon a solitary Acre Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action Maintain The Sun upon a Morning meets them The Wind No nearer Neighbor have they But God The Acre gives them
A Word made Flesh is seldom
A Word made Flesh is seldom And tremblingly partook Nor then perhaps reported But have I not mistook Each one of us has tasted With ecstasies of stealth The very food debated To our
I cannot live with You
I cannot live with You It would be Life And Life is over there Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to Putting up Our Life His Porcelain Like a Cup Discarded of
I went to Heaven
I went to Heaven ‘Twas 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