Emotions and Feelings

It knew no Medicine

559

It knew no Medicine-
It was not Sickness-then-
Nor any need of Surgery-
And therefore-'twas not Pain-

It moved away the Cheeks-
A Dimple at a time-
And left the Profile-plainer-
And in the place of Bloom

It left the little Tint
That never had a NameYou've
seen it on a Cast's face-
Was Paradise-to blame-

If momently ajarTemerity-
drew near-
And sickened-ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?

It might be lonelier

405

It might be lonelier
Without the LonelinessI'm
so accustomed to my Fate-
Perhaps the Other-Peace-

Would interrupt the Dark-
And crowd the little Room-
Too scant-by Cubits-to contain
The Sacrament-of Him-

I am not used to Hope-
It might intrude upon-
Its sweet parade-blaspheme the place-
Ordained to Suffering-

It might be easier
To fail-with Land in Sight-
Than gain-My Blue Peninsula-
To perish-of Delight-

It might be lonelier

405

It might be lonelier
Without the LonelinessI'm
so accustomed to my Fate-
Perhaps the Other-Peace-

Would interrupt the Dark-
And crowd the little Room-
Too scant-by Cubits-to contain
The Sacrament-of Him-

I am not used to Hope-
It might intrude upon-
Its sweet parade-blaspheme the place-
Ordained to Suffering-

It might be easier
To fail-with Land in Sight-
Than gain-My Blue Peninsula-
To perish-of Delight-

It is easy to work when the soul is at play

244

It is easy to work when the soul is at play-
But when the soul is in pain-
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult-then-

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind-
But Gimlets-among the nerve-
Mangle daintier-terribler-
Like a Panter in the Glove-

It is easy to work when the soul is at play

244

It is easy to work when the soul is at play-
But when the soul is in pain-
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult-then-

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind-
But Gimlets-among the nerve-
Mangle daintier-terribler-
Like a Panter in the Glove-

It is a lonesome Glee

774

It is a lonesome Glee-
Yet sanctifies the Mind-
With fair association-
Afar upon the Wind

A Bird to overhear
Delight without a Cause-
Arrestless as invisible-
A matter of the Skies.

It is a lonesome Glee

774

It is a lonesome Glee-
Yet sanctifies the Mind-
With fair association-
Afar upon the Wind

A Bird to overhear
Delight without a Cause-
Arrestless as invisible-
A matter of the Skies.

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 fractured, less
Than I reviled myself
For entertaining plated wares
Upon my silver shelf.

It don't sound so terrible—quite—as it did

426

It don't sound so terrible—quite—as it did—
I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "Dead."
Put it in Latin—left of my school—
Seems it don't shriek so—under rule.


Turn it, a little—full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest—
Shift it—just—
Say "When Tomorrow comes this way—
I shall have waded down one Day."


I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed—but then the Tomb
Like other new Things—shows largest—then—
And smaller, by Habit—


It's shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance—a Year—
How like "a fit"—then—
Murder—wear!

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon

978

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon-
The Flower-distinct and Red-
I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead

Will equal glow, and thought no More
But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared-
The Same Locality-

The Sun in place-no other fraud
On Nature's perfect Sum-
Had I but lingered Yesterday-
Was my retrieveless blame-

Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance-
But unapproached it stands-

The single Flower of the Earth
That I, in passing by
Unconscious was-Great Nature's Face
Passed infinite by Me-

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow

584

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go-
But only knew by looking back-
That something-had benumbed the Track-


Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock-
I hung upon the Peg, at night.


But not the Grief-that nestled close
As needles-ladies softly press
To Cushions Cheeks-
To keep their place-


Nor what consoled it, I could trace-
Except, whereas 'twas WildernessIt's
better-almost Peace-

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow

584

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go-
But only knew by looking back-
That something-had benumbed the Track-


Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock-
I hung upon the Peg, at night.


But not the Grief-that nestled close
As needles-ladies softly press
To Cushions Cheeks-
To keep their place-


Nor what consoled it, I could trace-
Except, whereas 'twas WildernessIt's
better-almost Peace-

Is Bliss then, such Abyss

340

Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?


I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my Boot-
For yet to buy another Pair
Is possible,
At any store-


But Bliss, is sold just once.
The Patent lost
None buy it any more-
Say, Foot, decide the point-
The Lady cross, or not?
Verdict for Boot!

In Winter in my Room

1670

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
To something neighboring
And went along.

A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I'd not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood-
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power-

The very string with which
I tied him-too
When he was mean and new
That string was there-

I shrank-"How fair you are"!
Propitiation's claw"
Afraid," he hissed
"Of me"?
"No cordiality"-
He fathomed me-
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.

That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.

In Winter in my Room

1670

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
To something neighboring
And went along.

A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I'd not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood-
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power-

The very string with which
I tied him-too
When he was mean and new
That string was there-

I shrank-"How fair you are"!
Propitiation's claw"
Afraid," he hissed
"Of me"?
"No cordiality"-
He fathomed me-
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.

That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.

In Ebon Box, when years have flown

169

In Ebon Box, when years have flown
To reverently peer,
Wiping away the velvet dust
Summers have sprinkled there!


To hold a letter to the light-
Grown Tawny now, with time-
To con the faded syllables
That quickened us like Wine!


Perhaps a Flower's shrivelled check
Among its stores to find-
Plucked far away, some morning-
By gallant-mouldering hand!


A curl, perhaps, from foreheads
Our Constancy forgot-
Perhaps, an Antique trinket-
In vanished fashions set!


And then to lay them quiet back-
And go about its care-
As if the little Ebon Box
Were none of our affair!

I'm nobody! Who are you?

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish -- you know!


How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today

529

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today—
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences—
It's time o' year for Hay.


And Broad—Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil—
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile—


It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields—
The Busy Carts—the fragrant Cocks—
The Mower's Metre—Steals—


A Trouble lest they're homesick—
Those Farmers—and their Wives—
Set separate from the Farming—
And all the Neighbors' lives—


A Wonder if the Sepulchre
Don't feel a lonesome way—
When Men—and Boys—and Carts—and June,
Go down the Fields to "Hay"—

If your Nerve, deny you

292

If your Nerve, deny you-
Go above your Nerve-
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve


That's a steady posture-
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms-
Best Giant made-

If your Soul seesaw-
Lift the Flesh door-
The Poltroon wants Oxygen-
Nothing more-

If your Nerve, deny you

292

If your Nerve, deny you-
Go above your Nerve-
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve


That's a steady posture-
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms-
Best Giant made-

If your Soul seesaw-
Lift the Flesh door-
The Poltroon wants Oxygen-
Nothing more-

If she had been the Mistletoe

44

If she had been the Mistletoe
And I had been the Rose-
How gay upon your table
My velvet life to close-
Since I am of the Druid,
And she is of the dewI'll
deck Tradition's buttonhole-
And send the Rose to you.

If this is "fading"

120

If this is "fading"
Oh let me immediately "fade"!
If this is "dying"
Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is "sleep,"
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!

If I'm lost-now

256

If I'm lost-now
That I was found-
Shall still my transport be-
That once-on me-those Jasper Gates
Blazed open-suddenly-

That in my awkward-gazing-face-
The Angels-softly peered-
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they caredI'm
banished-now-you know it-
How foreign that can beYou'll
know-Sir-when the Savior's face
Turns so-away from you-

If pain for peace prepares

63

If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what "Augustan" years
Our feet await!


If springs from winter rise,
Can the Anemones
Be reckoned up?


If night stands fast-then noon
To gird us for the sun,
What gaze!


When from a thousand skies
On our developed eyes
Noons blaze!