Poems List
'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold
538
'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold—
But then—Themselves were warm
And could not know the feeling 'twas—
Forget it—Lord—of Them—
Let not my Witness hinder Them
In Heavenly esteem—
No Paradise could be—Conferred
Through Their beloved Blame—
The Harm They did—was short—And since
Myself—who bore it—do—
Forgive Them—Even as Myself—
Or else—forgive not me—
To die
To die--takes just a little while--
They say it doesn't hurt-It's
only fainter--by degrees--
And then--it's out of sight--
A darker Ribbon--for a Day--
A Crape upon the Hat--
And then the pretty sunshine comes--
And helps us to forget--
The absent--mystic--creature--
That but for love of us--
Had gone to sleep--that soundest time--
Without the weariness--
'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
172
'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I,
Have ventured all upon a throw!
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so-
This side the Victory!
Life is but Life! And Death, but Death!
Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
And if indeed I fail,
At least, to know the worst, is sweet!
Defeat means nothing but Defeat,
No drearier, can befall!
And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea!
Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be!
At first, repeat it slow!
For Heaven is a different thing,
Conjectured, and waked sudden in-
And might extinguish me!
'Tis Opposites-entice
355
'Tis Opposites-entice-
Deformed Men-ponder Grace-
Bright fires-the Blanketless-
The Lost-Day's face-
The Blind-esteem it be
Enough Estate-to see-
The Captive-strangles new-
For deeming-Beggars-play-
To lack-enamor Thee-
Tho' the Divinity-
Be only
Me-
'Tis not that Dying hurts us so
335
'Tis not that Dying hurts us so'
Tis Living-hurts us more-
But Dying-is a different way-
A Kind behind the Door-
The Southern Custom-of the Bird-
That ere the Frosts are due-
Accepts a better LatitudeWe-
are the Birds-that stay.
The Shrivers round Farmers' doors-
For whose reluctant Crumb-
We stipulate-till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.
'Tis good-the looking back on Grief
660
'Tis good-the looking back on Grief-
To re-endure a Day-
We thought the Mighty Funeral-
Of All Conceived Joy-
To recollect how Busy Grass
Did meddle-one by one-
Till all the Grief with Summer-waved
And none could see the stone.
And though the Woe you have Today
Be larger-As the Sea
Exceeds its Unremembered DropThey're
Water-equally-
'Tis Anguish grander than Delight
984
'Tis Anguish grander than Delight
'Tis Resurrection Pain-
The meeting Bands of smitten Face
We questioned to, again.
'Tis Transport wild as thrills the Graves
When Cerements let go
And Creatures clad in Miracle
Go up by Two and Two.
Till Death—is narrow Loving
907
Till Death—is narrow Loving—
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of Finiteness—be spent—
But He whose loss procures you
Such Destitution that
Your Life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate—
Until—Resemblance perfect—
Yourself, for His pursuit
Delight of Nature—abdicate—
Exhibit Love—somewhat—
Through the strait pass of suffering
792
Through the strait pass of suffering-
The Martyrs-even-trod.
Their feet-upon Temptations-
Their faces-upon God-
A stately-shriven-CompanyConvulsion-
playing roundHarmless-
as streaks of Meteor-
Upon a Planet's Bond-
Their faith-the everlasting troth-
Their Expectation-fair-
The Needle-to the North DegreeWades-
so-thro' polar Air!
Through lane it lay—through bramble
9
Through lane it lay—through bramble—
Through clearing and through wood—
Banditti often passed us
Upon the lonely road.
The wolf came peering curious—
The owl looked puzzled down—
The serpent's satin figure
Glid stealthily along—
The tempests touched our garments—
The lightning's poinards gleamed—
Fierce from the Crag above us
The hungry Vulture screamed—
The satyr's fingers beckoned—
The valley murmured "Come"—
These were the mates—
This was the road
Those children fluttered home.
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