The Heart asks Pleasure first And then Excuse from Pain And then those little Anodyness That deaden suffering And then to go to sleep And then if it should be The will of its

A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon A depth an Azure a perfume Transcending ecstasy. And still within a summer’s

Must be a Woe A loss or so To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way But once aslant It notes Delight As difficult As Stalactite A Common Bliss Were had for less The price

A Dew sufficed itself And satisfied a Leaf And felt “how vast a destiny” “How trivial is Life!” The Sun went out to work The Day went out to play And not again that

This Merit hath the worst It cannot be again When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone The Maimed may pause, and breathe, And glance securely round The Deer attracts no further

We Bee and I live by the quaffing ‘Tisn’t all Hock with us Life has its Ale But it’s many a lay of the Dim Burgundy We chant for cheer when the Wines fail

Grief is a Mouse And chooses Wainscot in the Breast For His Shy House And baffles quest Grief is a Thief quick startled Pricks His Ear report to hear Of that Vast Dark That

Impossibility, like Wine Exhilarates the Man Who tastes it; Possibility Is flavorless Combine A Chance’s faintest Tincture And in the former Dram Enchantment makes ingredient As certainly as Doom

The Gentian has a parched Corolla Like azure dried ‘Tis Nature’s buoyant juices Beatified Without a vaunt or sheen As casual as Rain And as benign When most is part it comes Nor isolate

There is strength in proving that it can be borne Although it tear What are the sinews of such cordage for Except to bear The ship might be of satin had it not to

I am alive I guess The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory And at my finger’s end The Carmine tingles warm And if I hold a Glass Across my Mouth it

The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for Centuries delayed Its fitness growing like the Flood In sumptuous solitude The desolations only missed While Rapture changed its Dress And stood amazed before the Change

I’ve got an arrow here. Loving the hand that sent it I the dart revere. Fell, they will say, in “skirmish”! Vanquished, my soul will know By but a simple arrow Sped by an

I had not minded Walls Were Universe one Rock And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block I’d tunnel till my Groove Pushed sudden thro’ to his Then my face

Cosmopolities without a plea Alight in every Land The compliments of Paradise From those within my Hand Their dappled Journey to themselves A compensation fair Knock and it shall be opened Is their Theology

What did They do since I saw Them? Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness That could I snatch Their Faces That could Their lips reply Not till

Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown. Except for winds provincial. Except by Butterflies Unnoticed as a single dew That on the

I stepped from Plank to Plank A slow and cautious way The Stars about my Head I felt About my Feet the Sea. I knew not but the next Would be my final inch

The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land, And witness for her sea, The cricket is her utmost Of elegy

All that I do Is in review To his enamored mind I know his eye Where e’er I ply Is pushing close behind Not any Port Nor any flight But he doth there preside

You left me Sire two Legacies A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of You left me Boundaries of Pain Capacious as the Sea Between Eternity and Time

Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird reach it! Curve by Curve Sweep by Sweep Round the Steep Air Danger! What is that to Her? Better ’tis to fail there Than debate

The Gentian weaves her fringes The Maple’s loom is red My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are

If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not. And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot. And if to miss, were merry, And to mourn, were gay, How very blithe the fingers That

Take your Heaven further on This to Heaven divine Has gone Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen An Eternity put on Now to ring a Door beyond Is the utmost

The Past is such a curious Creature To look her in the Face A Transport may receipt us Or a Disgrace Unarmed if any meet her I charge him fly Her faded Ammunition Might

It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation But large serene Burned on until through Dissolution It failed from Men I could not deem these Planetary forces Annulled But suffered an Exchange of Territory Or World

There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes Heavenly Hurt, it gives us We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are None

Time feels so vast that were it not For an Eternity I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity To His exclusion, who prepare By Processes of Size For the Stupendous Vision Of his

There came a wind like a bugle It quivered through the GRASS, And a green chill upon the heat So ominous did pass We barred the windows and the doors As from an emerald

Tho’ my destiny be Fustian Hers be damask fine Tho’ she wear a silver apron I, a less divine Still, my little Gypsy being I would far prefer, Still, my little sunburnt bosom To

The Props assist the House Until the House is built And then the Props withdraw And adequate, erect, The House support itself And cease to recollect The Auger and the Carpenter Just such a

He lived the Life of Ambush And went the way of Dusk And now against his subtle name There stands an Asterisk As confident of him as we Impregnable we are The whole of

I cannot meet the Spring unmoved I feel the old desire A Hurry with a lingering, mixed, A Warrant to be fair A Competition in my sense With something hid in Her And as

Through those old Grounds of memory, The sauntering alone Is a divine intemperance A prudent man would shun. Of liquors that are vended ‘Tis easy to beware But statutes do not meddle With the

All the letters I can write Are not fair as this Syllables of Velvet Sentences of Plush, Depths of Ruby, undrained, Hid, Lip, for Thee Play it were a Humming Bird And just sipped

The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die ‘Tis deemed a privilege to choose ‘Twas Major Andre’s Way When Choice of Life is past There yet remains a Love Its little Fate

Answer July Where is the Bee Where is the Blush Where is the Hay? Ah, said July Where is the Seed Where is the Bud Where is the May Answer Thee Me Nay said

Softened by Time’s consummate plush, How sleek the woe appears That threatened childhood’s citadel And undermined the years. Bisected now, by bleaker griefs, We envy the despair That devastated childhood’s realm, So easy to

So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed So satisfied to go Where none of us should be Immediately that Anguish

The Mountains stood in Haze The Valleys stopped below And went or waited as they liked The River and the Sky. At leisure was the Sun His interests of Fire A little from remark

Title divine is mine! The Wife without the Sign! Acute Degree conferred on me Empress of Calvary! Royal all but the Crown! Betrothed without the swoon God sends us Women When you hold Garnet

‘Tis not the swaying frame we miss, It is the steadfast Heart, That had it beat a thousand years, With Love alone had bent, Its fervor the electric Oar, That bore it through the

Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity. Honor is then the safest hue In a posthumous Sun Not any color will endure That

Read Sweet how others strove Till we are stouter What they renounced Till we are less afraid How many times they bore the faithful witness Till we are helped As if a Kingdom cared!

That after Horror that ’twas us That passed the mouldering Pier Just as the Granite Crumb let go Our Savior, by a Hair A second more, had dropped too deep For Fisherman to plumb

She sweeps with many-colored Brooms And leaves the Shreds behind Oh Housewife in the Evening West Come back, and dust the Pond! You dropped a Purple Ravelling in You dropped an Amber thread And

Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise Three times, ’tis said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abode, Where hope and

Mine Enemy is growing old I have at last Revenge The Palate of the Hate departs If any would avenge Let him be quick the Viand flits It is a faded Meat Anger as

A Pit but Heaven over it And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad, And yet a Pit With Heaven over it. To stir would be to slip To look would be to drop To dream