Maybe, we shouldn't mind themUnless they didn't comeThen - maybe, it would puzzle us To find our way Home
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249 Wild Nights- Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury!
Futile - the Winds To a Heart in port Done with the Compass Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor - Tonight! In Thee!
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254 `Hope` is a thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without words And never stops - at all
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm
I've heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest Sea Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of Me.
x x x
303 The Soul selects her own Society Then - shut the Door To her divine Majority Present no more
Unmoved-she notes the Chariots-pausingAt her low Gate Unmoved - an Emperor is kneeling Upon her Mat
I've known her - from an ample nation Choose One Then- close the Valves of her attentionLike Stone
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313 I should have been too glad, I see Too lifted - for the scant degree Of Life's penurious Round; My little Circuit would have shamed This new Circumference - have blamed The homelier time behind.
I should have been too saved - I see Too rescued - Fear too dim to me That I could spell the Prayer I knew so perfect - yesterday -That Scalding one - "Sabachthani"Recited fluent -- here
Earth would have been too much - I see And Heaven- not enough for me I should have had the Joy
Without the Fear - to justify The Palm - without the Calvary; So, Saviour, Crucify
Defeat whets Victory - they sayThe Reefs - in old GethsemaneEndear the Coast beyond! 'T is Beggars - Banquets best define; 'T is parching - vitalizes Wine, "Faith" bleats - to understand!
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371 A precious-mouldering pleasure-'t isTo meet an Antique Book, In just the Dress his Century wore A privilege - I think
His venerable Hand to take And warming in our own A passage back- or two- to make To Times when he- was young
His quaint opinions - to inspect His thoughts to ascertain On Themes concern our mutual mindThe Literature of Man
What interested Scholars- mostWhat Competitions ran When Plato - was a Certainty And Sophocles - a Man
When Sappho - was a living Girl And Beatrice wore The Gown that Dante- deified Facts Centuries before
He traverses - familiar As One should come to Town And tell you all your Dreams-were trueHe lived - where Dreams were born
His presence is Enchantment, You beg him not to go Old Volumes shake their Vellum Heads And tantalize - just so
409
THE BATTLE-FIELD. They dropped like Flakes Tthey dropped like Stars Like Petals from a Rose When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers - goes
They perished in the Seamless Grass, -No eye could find the place But God can summon every face On his Repealless - List .
* * *
470 I am alive - I guess The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory And at my finger's end The Carmine - tingles warm And if I hold a Glass Across my Mouth - it blurs it Physician's - proof of Breath
I am alive - because I am not in a Room The Parlor - Commonly - it is So Visitors may come And lean - and view it sidewise And add " How cold - it grew" And " Was it conscious - when it stepped In Immortality? "
I am alive - because I do not own a House Entitled to myself - precise And fitting to no one else
And marked my Girlhood's name So Visitors may know Which Door is mine - and not mistake And try another Key
How good-to be alive! How infinite to be Alive -- two-fold -The Birth I had -And this -- besides, in -- Thee!
x x x
510 It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh I felt Siroccos - crawl Nor Fire - for just my Marble feet Could keep a Chancel, cool
And yet it tasted, like them all, The Figures I have seen Set orderly, for Burial, Reminded me, of mine
As if my life were shaven, And fitted to a frame, And could not breathe without a key, And "t was like Midnight, some
When everything that ticked-has stoppedAnd Space stares all around Or Grisly frosts- first Autumn morns, Repeal the Beating Ground
But most, like Chaos -- Stopless - cool Without a Chance, or Spar Or even a Report of Land To justify - Despair.
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540 I Took my Power in my HandAnd went against the World 'T was not so much as David -- hadBut I was twice as bold
I aimed my Pebble - but Myself Was all the one that fellWas it Goliaf - was too largeOr was myself - too small?
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543 I fear a Man of frugal SpeechI fear a Silent ManHaranguer - I can overtake Or Babbler - entertain
But He who weigheth - While the RestExpend their furthest poundOf this Man - I am waryI fear that He is Grand.