Beauty

When I have seen the Sun emerge

888

When I have seen the Sun emerge
From His amazing House-
And leave a Day at every Door
A Deed, in every place-

Without the incident of Fame
Or accident of Noise-
The Earth has seemed to me a Drum,
Pursued of little Boys

This Bauble was preferred of Bees

805

This Bauble was preferred of Bees-
By Butterflies admired
At Heavenly-Hopeless Distances-
Was justified of Bird-

Did Noon-enamel-in Herself
Was Summer to a Score
Who only knew of Universe-
It had created Her.

There is another sky

2

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields-
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

There is a flower that Bees prefer

380

There is a flower that Bees prefer-
And Butterflies-desire-
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird-aspire-

And Whatsoever Insect pass-
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her-capacity-

Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture-
Or Rhododendron-worn-

She doth not wait for June-
Before the World be Green-
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind-be seen-

Contending with the Grass-
Near Kinsman to Herself-
For Privilege of Sod and Sun-
Sweet Litigants for Life-

And when the Hills be full-
And newer fashions blow-
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy-

Her Public-be the Noon-
Her Providence-the Sun-
Her Progress-by the Bee-proclaimed-
In sovereign-Swerveless Tune-

The Bravest-of the HostSurrendering-
the last-
Nor even of Defeat-aware-
What cancelled by the Frost-

The Tint I cannot take—is best

627

The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—


The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra's Company—
Repeated—in the sky—


The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—


The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—


The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.


Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—

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 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 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 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 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 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 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-

Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!

64

Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!
Some Vision of the World Cashmere—
I confidently see!
Or else a Peacock's purple Train
Feather by feather—on the plain
Fritters itself away!


The dreamy Butterflies bestir!
Lethargic pools resume the whir
Of last year's sundered tune!
From some old Fortress on the sun
Baronial Bees—march—one by one—
In murmuring platoon!


The Robins stand as thick today
As flakes of snow stood yesterday—
On fence—and Roof—and Twig!
The Orchis binds her feather on
For her old lover - Don the Sun!
Revisiting the Bog!


Without Commander! Countless! Still!
The Regiments of Wood and Hill
In bright detachment stand!
Behold! Whose Multitudes are these?
The children of whose turbaned seas—
Or what Circassian Land?

She sped as Petals of a Rose

991

She sped as Petals of a Rose
Offended by the Wind-
A frail Aristocrat of Time
Indemnity to find-
Leaving on nature-a Default
As Cricket or as Bee-
But Andes in the Bosoms where
She had begun to lie-

Purple—is fashionable twice

980

Purple—is fashionable twice—
This season of the year,
And when a soul perceives itself
To be an Emperor.

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!

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.

Must be a Woe

571

Must be a Woe-
A loss or so-
To bend the eye
Best Beauty's way


But-once aslant
It notes Delight
As difficult
As Stalactite

A Common Bliss
Were had for less-
The price-is
Even as the Grace-

Our lord-thought no
Extravagance
To pay-a Cross-

Like her the Saints retire

60

Like her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!

Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!

"Departed"-both-they say!

i.e. gathered away,
Not found,
Argues the Aster still-
Reasons the Daffodil
Profound!

It knew no Medicine

559

It knew no Medicine-
It was not Sickness-then-
Nor any need of Surgery-
And therefore-'twas not Pain-

It moved away the Cheeks-
A Dimple at a time-
And left the Profile-plainer-
And in the place of Bloom

It left the little Tint
That never had a NameYou've
seen it on a Cast's face-
Was Paradise-to blame-

If momently ajarTemerity-
drew near-
And sickened-ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?

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 Ebon Box, when years have flown

169

In Ebon Box, when years have flown
To reverently peer,
Wiping away the velvet dust
Summers have sprinkled there!


To hold a letter to the light-
Grown Tawny now, with time-
To con the faded syllables
That quickened us like Wine!


Perhaps a Flower's shrivelled check
Among its stores to find-
Plucked far away, some morning-
By gallant-mouldering hand!


A curl, perhaps, from foreheads
Our Constancy forgot-
Perhaps, an Antique trinket-
In vanished fashions set!


And then to lay them quiet back-
And go about its care-
As if the little Ebon Box
Were none of our affair!