Poems List

The Sun—just touched the Morning

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!
👁️ 230

The Sun kept setting—setting—still

The Sun kept setting—setting—still

692

The Sun kept setting—setting—still
No Hue of Afternoon—
Upon the Village I perceived
From House to House 'twas Noon—


The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—still
No Dew upon the Grass—
But only on my Forehead stopped—
And wandered in my Face—


My Feet kept drowsing—drowsing—still
My fingers were awake—
Yet why so little sound—Myself
Unto my Seeming—make?


How well I knew the Light before—
I could see it now—
'Tis Dying—I am doing—but
I'm not afraid to know—
👁️ 229

The Sun and Moon must make their haste

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-
👁️ 254

The Spider holds a Silver Ball

The Spider holds a Silver Ball

The spider holds a Silver Ball
In unperceived Hands--
And dancing softly to Himself
His Yarn of Pearl--unwinds--

He plies from Nought to Nought--
In unsubstantial Trade--
Supplants our Tapestries with His--
In half the period--

An Hour to rear supreme
His Continents of Light--
Then dangle from the Housewife's Broom--
His Boundaries--forgot--
👁️ 356

The Soul's distinct connection

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.
👁️ 225

The Soul that hath a Guest

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-
👁️ 274

The Soul has Bandaged moments

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-
👁️ 291

The Skies can't keep their secret!

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!
👁️ 292

The Service without Hope

The Service without Hope

779

The Service without Hope-
Is tenderest, I think-
Because 'tis unsustained
By stint-Rewarded Work-

Has impetus of Gain-
And impetus of Goal-
There is no Diligence like that
That knows not an Until-
👁️ 240

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune

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-
👁️ 298

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