Others

The Soul's distinct connection

974

The Soul's distinct connection
With immortality
Is best disclosed by Danger
Or quick Calamity-

As Lightning on a Landscape
Exhibits Sheets of Place-
Not yet suspected-but for Flash-
And Click-and Suddenness.

The Soul has Bandaged moments

512

The Soul has Bandaged moments-
When too appalled to stir-
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her-


Salute her-with long fingers-
Caress her freezing hair-
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover-hovered-o'er-
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme-so-fair-


The soul has moments of Escape-
When bursting all the doors-
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,


As do the Bee-delirious borne-
Long Dungeoned from his Rose-
Touch Liberty-then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise-


The Soul's retaken moments-
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,


The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue-

The Soul that hath a Guest

674

The Soul that hath a Guest
Doth seldom go abroad-
Diviner Crowd at Home-
Obliterate the need-

And Courtesy forbid
A Host's departure when
Upon Himself be visiting
The Emperor of Men-

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 Outer—from the Inner

451

The Outer—from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude—
'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood—


The fine—unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel—
Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuous
And fling a dust—the while.


The Inner—paints the Outer—
The Brush without the Hand—
Its Picture publishes—precise—
As is the inner Brand—


On fine—Arterial Canvas—
A Cheek—perchance a Brow—
The Star's whole Secret—in the Lake—
Eyes were not meant to know.

The Outer—from the Inner

451

The Outer—from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude—
'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood—


The fine—unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel—
Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuous
And fling a dust—the while.


The Inner—paints the Outer—
The Brush without the Hand—
Its Picture publishes—precise—
As is the inner Brand—


On fine—Arterial Canvas—
A Cheek—perchance a Brow—
The Star's whole Secret—in the Lake—
Eyes were not meant to know.

The Poets light but Lamps

883

The Poets light but LampsThemselves-
go out-
The Wicks they stimulate-
If vital Light

Inhere as do the Suns-
Each Age a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference-

The Poets light but Lamps

883

The Poets light but LampsThemselves-
go out-
The Wicks they stimulate-
If vital Light

Inhere as do the Suns-
Each Age a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference-

The Murmur of a Bee

155

The Murmur of a Bee
A Witchcraft-yieldeth me-
If any ask me why'
Twere easier to die-
Than tell-

The Red upon the Hill
Taketh away my will-
If anybody sneer-
Take care-for God is hereThat's
all.

The Breaking of the Day
Addeth to my Degree-
If any ask me howArtist-
who drew me so-
Must tell!

The Months have ends—the Years—a knot

423

The Months have ends—the Years—a knot—
No Power can untie
To stretch a little further
A Skein of Misery—


The Earth lays back these tired lives
In her mysterious Drawers—
Too tenderly, that any doubt
An ultimate Repose—


The manner of the Children—
Who weary of the Day—
Themself—the noisy Plaything
They cannot put away—

The Martyr Poets—did not tell

544

The Martyr Poets—did not tell—
But wrought their Pang in syllable—
That when their mortal name be numb—
Their mortal fate—encourage Some—


The Martyr Painters—never spoke—
Bequeathing—rather—to their Work—
That when their conscious fingers cease—
Some seek in Art—the Art of Peace—

The Martyr Poets—did not tell

544

The Martyr Poets—did not tell—
But wrought their Pang in syllable—
That when their mortal name be numb—
Their mortal fate—encourage Some—


The Martyr Painters—never spoke—
Bequeathing—rather—to their Work—
That when their conscious fingers cease—
Some seek in Art—the Art of Peace—

The Love a Life can show Below

673

The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon-
And smites the Tinder in the Sun-
And hinders Gabriel's Wing


'Tis this-in Music-hints and sways-
And far abroad on Summer days-
Distils uncertain pain'
Tis this enamors in the East-
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine


'Tis this-invites-appalls-endowsFlits-
glimmers-proves-dissolvesReturns-
suggests-convicts-enchantsThen-
flings in Paradise-

The Love a Life can show Below

673

The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon-
And smites the Tinder in the Sun-
And hinders Gabriel's Wing


'Tis this-in Music-hints and sways-
And far abroad on Summer days-
Distils uncertain pain'
Tis this enamors in the East-
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine


'Tis this-invites-appalls-endowsFlits-
glimmers-proves-dissolvesReturns-
suggests-convicts-enchantsThen-
flings in Paradise-

The last Night that She lived

1100

The last Night that She lived
It was a Common Night
Except the Dying-this to Us
Made Nature different

We noticed smallest things-
Things overlooked before
By this great light upon our Minds
Italicized-as 'twere.

As We went out and in
Between Her final Room
And Rooms where Those to be alive
Tomorrow were, a Blame

That Others could exist
While She must finish quite
A Jealousy for Her arose
So nearly infinite-

We waited while She passed-
It was a narrow time-
Too jostled were Our Souls to speak
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot-
Then lightly as a Reed
Bent to the Water, struggled scarce-
Consented, and was dead-

And We-We placed the Hair-
And drew the Head erect-
And then an awful leisure was
Belief to regulate-

The Loneliness One dare not sound

777

The Loneliness One dare not sound-
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size-

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see-
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny-

The Horror not to be surveyed-
But skirted in the Dark-
With Consciousness suspended-
And Being under Lock-

I fear me this-is Loneliness-
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate-or seal-

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 good Will of a Flower

849

The good Will of a Flower
The Man who would possess
Must first present
Certificate
Of minted Holiness.

The first Day's Night had come

410

The first Day's Night had come-
And grateful that a thing
So terrible-had been endured-
I told my Soul to sing-

She said her Strings were snapt-
Her Bow-to Atoms blown-
And so to mend her-gave me work
Until another Morn-

And then-a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face-
Until it blocked my eyes-

My Brain-begun to laugh-
I mumbled-like a fool-
And tho' 'tis Years ago-that Day-
My Brain keeps giggling-still.

And Something's odd-within-
That person that I was-
And this One-do not feel the same-
Could it be Madness-this?

The face I carry with me—last

336

The face I carry with me—last—
When I go out of Time—
To take my Rank—by—in the West—
That face—will just be thine—


I'll hand it to the Angel—
That—Sir—was my Degree—
In Kingdoms—you have heard the Raised—
Refer to—possibly.


He'll take it—scan it—step aside—
Return—with such a crown
As Gabriel—never capered at—
And beg me put it on—


And then—he'll turn me round and round—
To an admiring sky—
As one that bore her Master's name—
Sufficient Royalty!

The Definition of Beauty is

988

The Definition of Beauty is
That Definition is none-
Of Heaven, easing Analysis,
Since Heaven and He are one.

The Day that I was crowned

356

The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days-
Until the Coronation came-
And then-'twas Otherwise-

As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One-and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem-

I rose, and all was plain-
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally-adorned-

The Grace that I-was chose-
To Me-surpassed the Crown
That was the Witness for the Grace'
Twas even that 'twas Mine-

The Color of a Queen, is this

776

The Color of a Queen, is this-
The Color of a Sun
At setting-this and AmberBeryl-
and this, at Noon-

And when at night-Auroran widths
Fling suddenly on men'
Tis this-and Witchcraft-nature keeps
A Rank-for Iodine-