Gratitude

One Year ago—jots what?

296

One Year ago—jots what?
God—spell the word! I—can't—
Was't Grace? Not that—
Was't Glory? That—will do—
Spell slower—Glory—


Such Anniversary shall be—
Sometimes—not often—in Eternity—
When farther Parted, than the Common Woe—
Look—feed upon each other's faces—so—
In doubtful meal, if it be possible
Their Banquet's true—


I tasted—careless—then—
I did not know the Wine
Came once a World—Did you?
Oh, had you told me so—
This Thirst would blister—easier—now—
You said it hurt you—most—
Mine—was an Acorn's Breast—
And could not know how fondness grew
In Shaggier Vest—
Perhaps—I couldn't—
But, had you looked in—
A Giant—eye to eye with you, had been—
No Acorn—then—


So—Twelve months ago—
We breathed—
Then dropped the Air—
Which bore it best?
Was this—the patientest—
Because it was a Child, you know—
And could not value—Air?


If to be "Elder"—mean most pain—
I'm old enough, today, I'm certain—then—
As old as thee—how soon?
One—Birthday more—or Ten?
Let me—choose!
Ah, Sir, None!

One Blessing had I than the rest

756

One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging-satisfied-
For this enchanted size-

It was the limit of my Dream-
The focus of my Prayer-
A perfect-paralyzing Bliss-
Contented as Despair-

I knew no more of Want-or Cold-
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul-
Supremest Earthly Sum-

The Heaven below the Heaven above-
Obscured with ruddier BlueLife's
Latitudes leant over-full-
The Judgment perished-too-

Why Bliss so scantily disburse-
Why Paradise defer-
Why Floods be served to Us-in Bowls-
I speculate no more-

On that dear Frame the Years had worn

940

On that dear Frame the Years had worn
Yet precious as the House
In which We first experienced Light
The Witnessing, to Us-

Precious! It was conceiveless fair
As Hands the Grave had grimed
Should softly place within our own
Denying that they died.

My best Acquaintances are those

932

My best Acquaintances are those
With Whom I spoke no Word-
The Stars that stated come to Town
Esteemed Me never rude
Although to their Celestial Call
I failed to make reply-
My constant-reverential Face
Sufficient Courtesy.

Joy to have merited the Pain

788

Joy to have merited the Pain-
To merit the Release-
Joy to have perished every step-
To Compass Paradise


Pardon-to look upon thy face-
With these old fashioned Eyes-
Better than new-could be-for that-
Though bought in Paradise-

Because they looked on thee before-
And thou hast looked on them-
Prove Me-My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same-

So fleet thou wert, when present-
So infinite-when gone-
An Orient's Apparition-
Remanded of the Morn-

The Height I recollect'
Twas even with the Hills-
The Depth upon my Soul was notched-
As Floods-on Whites of Wheels-

To Haunt-till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,
And Haunting actualize-to last
At least-Eternity-

It's all I have to bring today

26

It's all I have to bring today-
This, and my heart beside-
This, and my heart, and all the fields-
And all the meadows wide-
Be sure you count-should I forget
Some one the sum could tell-
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today

529

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today—
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences—
It's time o' year for Hay.


And Broad—Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil—
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile—


It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields—
The Busy Carts—the fragrant Cocks—
The Mower's Metre—Steals—


A Trouble lest they're homesick—
Those Farmers—and their Wives—
Set separate from the Farming—
And all the Neighbors' lives—


A Wonder if the Sepulchre
Don't feel a lonesome way—
When Men—and Boys—and Carts—and June,
Go down the Fields to "Hay"—

If she had been the Mistletoe

44

If she had been the Mistletoe
And I had been the Rose-
How gay upon your table
My velvet life to close-
Since I am of the Druid,
And she is of the dewI'll
deck Tradition's buttonhole-
And send the Rose to you.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

I stole them from a Bee

200

I stole them from a BeeBecause-
Thee-
Sweet plea-
He pardoned me!

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells

460

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells—
Deep dug—for Summer days—
Where Mosses go no more away—
And Pebble—safely plays—


It's made of Fathoms—and a Belt—
A Belt of jagged Stone—
Inlaid with Emerald—half way down—
And Diamonds—jumbled on—


It has no Bucket—Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy—
I'm often thirsty—but my lips
Are so high up—You see—


I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People "thirst no more"—
The Wells have Buckets to them there—
It must mean that—I'm sure—


Shall We remember Parching—then?
Those Waters sound so grand—
I think a little Well—like Mine—
Dearer to understand—

I had been hungry all the years-

I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.


'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.


I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.


The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.


Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.

I cried at Pity—not at Pain

588

I cried at Pity—not at Pain—
I heard a Woman say
"Poor Child"—and something in her voice
Convicted me—of me—


So long I fainted, to myself
It seemed the common way,
And Health, and Laughter, Curious things—
To look at, like a Toy—


To sometimes hear "Rich people" buy
And see the Parcel rolled—
And carried, I supposed—to Heaven,
For children, made of Gold—


But not to touch, or wish for,
Or think of, with a sigh—
And so and so—had been to me,
Had God willed differently.


I wish I knew that Woman's name—
So when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears
For fear I hear her say


She's "sorry I am dead"—again—
Just when the Grave and I—
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep,
Our only Lullaby—

He told a homely tale

763

He told a homely tale
And spotted it with tears-
Upon his infant face was set
The Cicatrice of years-

All crumpled was the cheek
No other kiss had known
Than flake of snow, divided with
The Redbreast of the Barn-

If Mother-in the Grave-
Or Father-on the Sea-
Or Father in the Firmament-
Or Brethren, had he-

If Commonwealth below,
Or Commonwealth above
Have missed a Barefoot CitizenI've
ransomed it-alive-

Great Caesar! Condescend

102

Great Caesar! Condescend
The Daisy, to receive,
Gathered by Cato's Daughter,
With your majestic leave!

Garland for Queens, may be

34

Garland for Queens, may beLaurels-
for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah-but remembering meAh-
but remembering thee-
Nature in chivalry-
Nature in charity-
Nature in equity-
This Rose ordained!

Forever at His side to walk

246

Forever at His side to walk-
The smaller of the two!
Brain of His Brain-
Blood of His Blood-
Two lives-One Being-now-

Forever of His fate to taste-
If grief-the largest part-
If joy-to put my piece away
For that beloved Heart-

All life-to know each other-
Whom we can never learn-
And bye and bye-a Change-
Called Heaven-
Rapt Neighborhoods of Men-
Just finding out-what puzzled us-
Without the lexicon!

Deprived of other Banquet

773

Deprived of other Banquet,
I entertained Myself-
At first-a scant nutrition-
An insufficient Loaf-

But grown by slender addings
To so esteemed a size
'Tis sumptuous enough for me-
And almost to suffice

A Robin's famine able-
Red Pilgrim, He and I-
A Berry from our table
Reserve-for charity-

Besides the Autumn poets sing

131

Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze-

A few incisive Mornings-
A few Ascetic EvesGone-
Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"-
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."

Still, is the bustle in the Brook-
Sealed are the spicy valves-
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves-

Perhaps a squirrel may remain-
My sentiments to share-
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind-
Thy windy will to bear!

Before I got my eye put out

327

Before I got my eye put out
I liked as well to see-
As other Creatures, that have Eyes
And know no other way-

But were it told to me-Today-
That I might have the sky
For mine-I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me-

The Meadows-mine-
The Mountains-mine-
All Forests-Stintless Stars-
As much of Noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes-

The Motions of the Dipping Birds-
The Morning's Amber Road-
For mine-to look at when I liked-
The News would strike me dead-

So safer-guess-with just my soul
Upon the Window pane-
Where other Creatures put their eyesIncautious-
of the Sun-

All forgot for recollecting

966

All forgot for recollecting
Just a paltry One-
All forsook, for just a Stranger's
New Accompanying-

Grace of Wealth, and Grace of Station
Less accounted than
An unknown Esteem possessingEstimate-
Who can-

Home effaced-Her faces dwindledNature-
altered smallSun-
if shone-or Storm-if shattered-
Overlooked I all


Dropped-my fate-a timid Pebble-
In thy bolder SeaProve-
me-Sweet-if I regret it-
Prove Myself-of Thee-

A Shade upon the mind there passes

882

A Shade upon the mind there passes
As when on Noon
A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses
Remembering

That some there be too numb to notice
Oh God
Why give if Thou must take away
The Loved?

"Why do I love" You, Sir?

480

"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because-
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer-Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows-and
Do not You-
And We know not-
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so-

The Lightning-never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut-when He was by-
Because He knows it cannot speak-
And reasons not contained-
Of Talk-
There be-preferred by Daintier Folk-

The Sunrise-Sire-compelleth Me-
Because He's Sunrise-and I seeTherefore-
Then-
I love Thee-

Vanity Fair

In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile,
As we talk of the opera after the weather,
As we chat of fashion and fad and style,
We know we are playing a part together.
You know that the mirth she wears, she borrows;
She knows you laugh but to hide your sorrows;
We know that under the silks and laces,
And back of beautiful, beaming faces,
Lie secret trouble and grim despair,
In Vanity Fair.


In Vanity Fair, on dress parade,
Our colors look bright and our swords are gleaming;
But many a uniform's worn and frayed,
And most of the weapons, despite their seeming.
Are dull and blunted and badly battered,
And close inspection will show how tattered
And stained are the banners that float above us.
Our comrades hate, while they swear to love us;
And robed like Pleasure walks gaunt-eyed Care,
In Vanity Fair.


In Vanity Fair, as we strive for place,
As we rush and jostle and crowd and hurry,
We know the goal is not worth the race-
We know the prize is not worth the worry;
That all our gain means loss for another;
That in fighting for self we wound each other;
That the crown of success weighs hard and presse
The brow of the victor with thorns-not caresses;
That honors are empty and worthless to wear,
In Vanity Fair.


But in Vanity Fair, as we pass along,
We meet strong hearts that are worth the knowing;
'Mong poor paste jewels that deck the throng,
We see a solitaire sometimes glowing.
We find grand souls under robes of fashion,
'Neath light demeanors hide strength and passion;
And fair fine honor and Godlike resistance.
In halls of pleasure may have existence;
And we find pure altars and shrines of prayer,
In Vanity Fair.