Nature and Elements

The wind begun to rock the grass

The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,--
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.


The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.


The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.


The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands


That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky
But overlooked my father's house,
lust quartering a tree.

The wind trapped like a tired man,

The wind tapped like a tired man,
And like a host, 'Come in,'
I boldly answered; entered then
My residence within


A rapid, footless guest,
To offer whom a chair
Were as impossible as hand
A sofa to the air.


No bone had he to bind him,
His speech was like the push
Of numerous humming-birds at once
From a superior bush.


His countenance a billow,
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.


He visited, still flitting;
Then, like a timid man,
Again he tapped--'t was flurriedly--
And I became alone.

The Sunset stopped on Cottages

950

The Sunset stopped on Cottages
Where Sunset hence must be
For treason not of His, but Life's,
Gone Westerly, Today-

The Sunset stopped on Cottages
Where Morning just begun-
What difference, after all, Thou mak'st
Thou supercilious Sun?

The Sun—just touched the Morning

232

The Sun—just touched the Morning—
The Morning—Happy thing—
Supposed that He had come to dwell—
And Life would all be Spring!


She felt herself supremer—
A Raised—Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth—for Her—What Holiday!
Meanwhile—Her wheeling King—
Trailed—slow—along the Orchards—
His haughty—spangled Hems—
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!


The Morning—fluttered—staggered—
Felt feebly—for Her Crown—
Her unanointed forehead—
Henceforth—Her only One!

The Sun and Moon must make their haste

871

The Sun and Moon must make their haste-
The Stars express around
For in the Zones of Paradise
The Lord alone is burned-

His Eye, it is the East and West-
The North and South when He
Do concentrate His Countenance
Like Glow Worms, flee away-

Oh Poor and Far-
Oh Hindred Eye
That hunted for the Day-
The Lord a Candle entertains
Entirely for Thee-

The Skies can't keep their secret!

191

The Skies can't keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills-
The Hills just tell the Orchards-
And they-the Daffodils!


A Bird-by chance-that goes that way-
Soft overhears the whole-
If I should bribe the little Bird-
Who knows but she would tell?


I think I won't-howeverIt's
finer-not to know-
If Summer were an Axiom-
What sorcery had Snow?


So keep your secret-Father!
I would not-if I could,
Know what the Sapphire Fellows, do,
In your new-fashioned world!

The Skies can't keep their secret!

191

The Skies can't keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills-
The Hills just tell the Orchards-
And they-the Daffodils!


A Bird-by chance-that goes that way-
Soft overhears the whole-
If I should bribe the little Bird-
Who knows but she would tell?


I think I won't-howeverIt's
finer-not to know-
If Summer were an Axiom-
What sorcery had Snow?


So keep your secret-Father!
I would not-if I could,
Know what the Sapphire Fellows, do,
In your new-fashioned world!

The Skies can't keep their secret!

191

The Skies can't keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills-
The Hills just tell the Orchards-
And they-the Daffodils!


A Bird-by chance-that goes that way-
Soft overhears the whole-
If I should bribe the little Bird-
Who knows but she would tell?


I think I won't-howeverIt's
finer-not to know-
If Summer were an Axiom-
What sorcery had Snow?


So keep your secret-Father!
I would not-if I could,
Know what the Sapphire Fellows, do,
In your new-fashioned world!

The Robin for the Crumb

864

The Robin for the Crumb
Returns no syllable
But long records the Lady's name
In Silver Chronicle.

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune

285

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune-
Because I grow-where Robins do-
But, were I Cuckoo bornI'd
swear by him-
The ode familiar-rules the Noon-
The Buttercup's, my Whim for Bloom-
Because, we're Orchard sprung-
But, were I Britain born,
I'd Daisies spurn-
None but the Nut-October fit-
Because, through dropping it,
The Seasons flit-I'm taught-
Without the Snow's Tableau
Winter, were lie-to me-
Because I see-New Englandly-
The Queen, discerns like me-
Provincially-

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune

285

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune-
Because I grow-where Robins do-
But, were I Cuckoo bornI'd
swear by him-
The ode familiar-rules the Noon-
The Buttercup's, my Whim for Bloom-
Because, we're Orchard sprung-
But, were I Britain born,
I'd Daisies spurn-
None but the Nut-October fit-
Because, through dropping it,
The Seasons flit-I'm taught-
Without the Snow's Tableau
Winter, were lie-to me-
Because I see-New Englandly-
The Queen, discerns like me-
Provincially-

The rainbow never tells me

97

The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.

My flowers turn from Forums-
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn't prove me
Except the birds were here!

The Night was wide, and furnished scant

589

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 Leaves
November left-then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves-

No Squirrel went abroad-
A Dog's belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, he heard
Adown the empty Street-

To feel if Blinds be fast-
And closer to the fire-
Her little Rocking Chair to draw-
And shiver for the Poor-

The Housewife's gentle Task-
How pleasanter-said she
Unto the Sofa opposite-
The Sleet-than May, no Thee-

The name-of it-is "Autumn"

656

The name-of it-is "Autumn"-
The hue-of it-is Blood-
An Artery-upon the Hill-
A Vein-along the Road-

Great Globules-in the Alleys-
And Oh, the Shower of Stain-
When Winds-upset the Basin-
And spill the Scarlet Rain-

It sprinkles Bonnets-far below-
It gathers ruddy PoolsThen-
eddies like a Rose-away-
Upon Vermilion Wheels-

The Mountain sat upon the Plain

975

The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair-
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere-

The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire-
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor-

The Mountain sat upon the Plain

975

The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair-
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere-

The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire-
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor-

The Lady feeds Her little Bird

941

The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At rarer intervals-
The little Bird would not dissent
But meekly recognize

The Gulf between the Hand and Her
And crumbless and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore-

The Judge is like the Owl

699

The Judge is like the OwlI've
heard my Father tell-
And Owls do build in Oaks-
So here's an Amber Sill-

That slanted in my Path-
When going to the Barn-
And if it serve You for a House-
Itself is not in vain-

About the price-'tis small-
I only ask a Tune
At Midnight-Let the Owl select
His favorite Refrain.

The Himmaleh was known to stoop

481

The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low-
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent-Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow-

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 the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –


And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –


And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –


And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –

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 the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –


And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –


And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –


And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –

The Fingers of the Light

1000

The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."


"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep-
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."


The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man


The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.

The Daisy follows soft the Sun

106

The Daisy follows soft the Sun-
And when his golden walk is done-
Sits shyly at his feetHe-
waking-finds the flower thereWherefore-
Marauder-art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!


We are the Flower-Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline-
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West-
The peace-the flight-the AmethystNight's
possibility!

The Daisy follows soft the Sun

106

The Daisy follows soft the Sun-
And when his golden walk is done-
Sits shyly at his feetHe-
waking-finds the flower thereWherefore-
Marauder-art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!


We are the Flower-Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline-
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West-
The peace-the flight-the AmethystNight's
possibility!