Nature and Elements

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain

885

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.


A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.


As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

321

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs-
That phraseless Melody-
The Wind does-working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky-
Then quiver down-with tufts of Tune-
Permitted Gods, and me-

Inheritance, it is, to us-
Beyond the Art to Earn-
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers-
And inner than the Bone-
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands-
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.

I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be-
Who never heard that fleshless ChantRise-
solemn-on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept-
In Seamless Company-

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

321

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs-
That phraseless Melody-
The Wind does-working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky-
Then quiver down-with tufts of Tune-
Permitted Gods, and me-

Inheritance, it is, to us-
Beyond the Art to Earn-
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers-
And inner than the Bone-
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands-
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.

I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be-
Who never heard that fleshless ChantRise-
solemn-on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept-
In Seamless Company-

Noon—is the Hinge of Day

931

Noon—is the Hinge of Day—
Evening—the Tissue Door—
Morning—the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar—

Nobody knows this little Rose

35

Nobody knows this little Rose-
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it-
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey-
On its breast to lie-
Only a Bird will wonder-
Only a Breeze will sigh-
Ah Little Rose-how easy
For such as thee to die!

Nobody knows this little Rose

35

Nobody knows this little Rose-
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it-
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey-
On its breast to lie-
Only a Bird will wonder-
Only a Breeze will sigh-
Ah Little Rose-how easy
For such as thee to die!

New feet within my garden go

99

New feet within my garden go-
New fingers stir the sod-
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green-
New Weary sleep below-
And still the pensive Spring returns-
And still the punctual snow!

Nature rarer uses yellow

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,--
Prodigal of blue,


Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.

Nature and God—I neither knew

835

Nature and God—I neither knew
Yet Both so well knew me
They startled, like Executors
Of My identity.


Yet Neither told—that I could learn—
My Secret as secure
As Herschel's private interest
Or Mercury's affair—

My Garden—like the Beach

484

My Garden—like the Beach—
Denotes there be—a Sea—
That's Summer—
Such as These—the Pearls
She fetches—such as Me

My Garden—like the Beach

484

My Garden—like the Beach—
Denotes there be—a Sea—
That's Summer—
Such as These—the Pearls
She fetches—such as Me

My Faith is larger than the Hills

766

My Faith is larger than the Hills-
So when the Hills decay-
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way


'Tis first He steps upon the Vane-
And then-upon the Hill-
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will-

And if His Yellow feet should miss-
The Bird would not arise-
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems-
No Bells have Paradise-

How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends-
Lest Firmament should fail for me-
The Rivet in the Bands

My Faith is larger than the Hills

766

My Faith is larger than the Hills-
So when the Hills decay-
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way


'Tis first He steps upon the Vane-
And then-upon the Hill-
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will-

And if His Yellow feet should miss-
The Bird would not arise-
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems-
No Bells have Paradise-

How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends-
Lest Firmament should fail for me-
The Rivet in the Bands

Morning—is the place for Dew

197

Morning—is the place for Dew—
Corn—is made at Noon—
After dinner light—for flowers—
Dukes—for Setting Sun!

Morning—is the place for Dew

197

Morning—is the place for Dew—
Corn—is made at Noon—
After dinner light—for flowers—
Dukes—for Setting Sun!

Morning—is the place for Dew

197

Morning—is the place for Dew—
Corn—is made at Noon—
After dinner light—for flowers—
Dukes—for Setting Sun!

Mama never forgets her birds

164

Mama never forgets her birds,
Though in another tree-
She looks down just as often
And just as tenderly
As when her little mortal nest
With cunning care she wove-
If either of her "sparrows fall,"
She "notices," above.

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle

302

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle
When Summertime is done-
Seems Summer's Recollection
And the Affairs of June

As infinite Tradition
As Cinderella's Bays-
Or Little John-of Lincoln Green-
Or Blue Beard's Galleries-

Her Bees have a fictitious Hum-
Her Blossoms, like a Dream-
Elate us-till we almost weep-
So plausible-they seem-

Her Memories like Strains-Review-
When Orchestra is dumb-
The Violin in Baize replaced-
And Ear-and Heaven-numb-

It struck me every day

It struck me every day
The lightning was as new
As if the cloud that instant slit
And let the fire through.

It burned me in the night,
It blistered in my dream;
It sickened fresh upon my sight
With every morning's beam.

I thought that storm was brief,-The
maddest, quickest by;
But Nature lost the date of this,
And left it in the sky.

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.

In lands I never saw—they say

124

In lands I never saw—they say
Immortal Alps look down—
Whose Bonnets touch the firmament—
Whose Sandals touch the town—


Meek at whose everlasting feet
A Myriad Daisy play—
Which, Sir, are you and which am I
Upon an August day?

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.

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"

176

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?


If the Coward Bumble Bee
In his chimney corner stay,
I, must resoluter be!
Who'll apologize for me?


Dear, Old fashioned, little flower!
Eden is old fashioned, too!
Birds are antiquated fellows!
Heaven does not change her blue.
Nor will I, the little Heart's Ease-
Ever be induced to do!

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"

176

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?


If the Coward Bumble Bee
In his chimney corner stay,
I, must resoluter be!
Who'll apologize for me?


Dear, Old fashioned, little flower!
Eden is old fashioned, too!
Birds are antiquated fellows!
Heaven does not change her blue.
Nor will I, the little Heart's Ease-
Ever be induced to do!