Poems List
If I may have it, when it's dead
577
If I may have it, when it's dead,
I'll be contented-so-
If just as soon as Breath is out
It shall belong to me-
Until they lock it in the Grave,
'Tis Bliss I cannot weigh-
For tho' they lock Thee in the Grave,
Myself-can own the key-
Think of it Lover! I and Thee
Permitted-face to face to be-
After a Life-a Death-We'll say-
For Death was That-
And this-is Thee
I'll tell Thee All-how Bald it grew-
How Midnight felt, at first-to me-
How all the Clocks stopped in the World-
And Sunshine pinched me-'Twas so cold-
Then how the Grief got sleepy-some-
As if my Soul were deaf and dumb-
Just making signs-across-to Thee-
That this way-thou could'st notice me
I'll tell you how I tried to keep
A smile, to show you, when this Deep
All Waded-We look back for Play,
At those Old Times-in Calvary,
Forgive me, if the Grave come slow-
For Coveting to look at Thee-
Forgive me, if to stroke thy frost
Outvisions Paradise!
If I should die
54
If I should die,
And you should live-
And time should gurgle on-
And morn should beam-
And noon should burn-
As it has usual done-
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go-
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie-
That Commerce will continue-
And Trades as briskly fly-
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene-
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
If He dissolve—then—there is nothing
236
If He dissolve—then—there is nothing—more—
Eclipse—at Midnight—
It was dark—before—
Sunset—at Easter—
Blindness—on the Dawn—
Faint Star of Bethlehem—
Gone down!
Would but some God—inform Him—
Or it be too late!
Say—that the pulse just lisps—
The Chariots wait—
Say—that a little life—for His—
Is leaking—red—
His little Spaniel—tell Him!
Will He heed?
Ideals are the Fairly Oil
983
Ideals are the Fairly Oil
With which we help the Wheel
But when the Vital Axle turns
The Eye rejects the Oil.
If anybody's friend be dead
509
If anybody's friend be dead
It's sharpest of the theme
The thinking how they walked alive-
At such and such a time-
Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the Hair-
A prank nobody knew but them
Lost, in the Sepulchre-
How warm, they were, on such a day,
You almost feel the date-
So short way off it seems-
And now-they're Centuries from that-
How pleased they were, at what you said-
You try to touch the smile
And dip your fingers in the frost-
When was it-Can you tell-
You asked the Company to teaAcquaintance-
just a few-
And chatted close with this Grand Thing
That don't remember you-
Past Bows, and Invitations-
Past Interview, and Vow-
Past what Ourself can estimateThat-
makes the Quick of Woe!
I years had been from home,
I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before
Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,--just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?
I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.
I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.
I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.
I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
I would distil a cup
16
I would distil a cup,
And bear to all my friends,
Drinking to her no more astir,
By beck, or burn, or moor!
I went to heaven,--
I went to heaven,-'
T was 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 mechlin, frames,
Duties of gossamer,
And eider names.
Almost contented
I could be
'Mong such unique
Society.
I was the slightest in the House
486
I was the slightest in the House-
I took the smallest Room-
At night, my little Lamp, and Book-
And one Geranium-
So stationed I could catch the Mint
That never ceased to fall-
And just my Basket-
Let me think-I'm sure-
That this was all-
I never spoke-unless addressed-
And then, 'twas brief and low-
I could not bear to live-aloud-
The Racket shamed me so-
And if it had not been so far-
And any one I knew
Were going-I had often thought
How noteless-I could die-
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