Soul

She hideth Her the last

557

She hideth Her the last-
And is the first, to rise-
Her Night doth hardly recompense
The Closing of Her eyes-

She doth Her Purple Work-
And putteth Her away
In low Apartments in the Sod -
As worthily as We.

To imitate her life
As impotent would be
As make of Our imperfect Mints,
The Julep-of the Bee-

Sexton! My Master's sleeping here

96

Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird's nest,
And sow the Early seed-


That when the snow creeps slowly
From off his chamber door-
Daisies point the way there-
And the Troubadour.

She dealt her pretty words like Blades

479

She dealt her pretty words like Blades-
How glittering they shone-
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone-

She never deemed-she hurtThat-
is not Steel's Affair-
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh-
How ill the Creatures bear-

To Ache is human-not polite-
The Film upon the eye
Mortality's old Custom-
Just locking up-to Die.

Robbed by Death—but that was easy

971

Robbed by Death—but that was easy—
To the failing Eye
I could hold the latest Glowing—
Robbed by Liberty


For Her Jugular Defences—
This, too, I endured—
Hint of Glory—it afforded—
For the Brave Beloved—


Fraud of Distance—Fraud of Danger,
Fraud of Death—to bear—
It is Bounty—to Suspense's
Vague Calamity—


Stalking our entire Possession
On a Hair's result—
Then—seesawing—coolly—on it—
Trying if it split—

Savior! I've no one else to tell

217

Savior! I've no one else to tell-
And so I trouble thee.
I am the one forgot thee so-
Dost thou remember me?
Nor, for myself, I came so far-
That were the little load-
I brought thee the imperial Heart
I had not strength to hold-
The Heart I carried in my own-
Till mine too heavy grewYet-
strangest-heavier since it went-
Is it too large for you?

Reverse cannot befall

395

Reverse cannot befall
That fine Prosperity
Whose Sources are interior-
As soon-Adversity

A Diamond-overtake
In far-Bolivian Ground-
Misfortune hath no implement
Could mar it-if it found-

Renunciation


Renunciation -- is a piercing Virtue --
The letting go
A Presence -- for an Expectation --
Not now --
The putting out of Eyes --
Just Sunrise --
Lest Day -Day's
Great Progenitor --
Outvie
Renunciation -- is the Choosing
Against itself --
Itself to justify
Unto itself --
When larger function --
Make that appear --
Smaller -- that Covered Vision -- Here --

Remorse


Remorse -- is Memory -- awake --
Her Parties all astir --
A Presence of Departed Acts --
At window -- and at Door --

Its Past -- set down before the Soul
And lighted with a Match --
Perusal -- to facilitate --
And help Belief to stretch --

Remorse is cureless -- the Disease
Not even God -- can heal --
For 'tis His institution -- and
The Adequate of Hell --

Read—Sweet—how others—strove

260

Read—Sweet—how others—strove—
Till we—are stouter—
What they—renounced—
Till we—are less afraid—
How many times they—bore the faithful witness—
Till we—are helped—
As if a Kingdom—cared!


Read then—of faith—
That shone above the fagot—
Clear strains of Hymn
The River could not drown—
Brave names of Men—
And Celestial Women—
Passed out—of Record
Into—Renown!

Purple—is fashionable twice

980

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

Publication


Publication -- is the Auction
Of the Mind of Man --
Poverty -- be justifying
For so foul a thing

Possibly -- but We -- would rather
From Our Garret go
White -- Unto the White Creator --
Than invest -- Our Snow --

Thought belong to Him who gave it --
Then -- to Him Who bear
Its Corporeal illustration -- Sell
The Royal Air --

In the Parcel -- Be the Merchant
Of the Heavenly Grace --
But reduce no Human Spirit
To Disgrace of Price --

Pain Has An Element

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.


It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

Only God—detect the Sorrow

626

Only God—detect the Sorrow—
Only God—
The Jehovahs—are no Babblers—
Unto God—
God the Son—Confide it—
Still secure—
God the Spirit's Honor—
Just as sure—

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 need not be a chamber to be haunted,

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.


Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.


Far safer through an Abbey gallop,
The stones achase,
Than, moonless, one's own self encounter
In lonesome place.


Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror's least.


The prudent carries a revolver,
He bolts the door,
O'erlooking a superior spectre
More near.

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 this wondrous sea

4

On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar-
Where the storm is o'er?


In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest-
The anchors fast-
Thither I pilot thee-
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!

One and One—are One

769

One and One—are One—
Two—be finished using—
Well enough for Schools—
But for Minor Choosing—


Life—just—or Death—
Or the Everlasting—
More—would be too vast
For the Soul's Comprising—

On a Columnar Self

789

On a Columnar Self-
How ample to rely
In Tumult-or Extremity-
How good the Certainty

That Lever cannot pry-
And Wedge cannot divide
Conviction-That Granitic Base-
Though None be on our Side-

Suffice Us-for a CrowdOurself-
and Rectitude-
And that Assembly-not far off
From furthest Spirit-God-

Of nearness to her sundered Things

607

Of nearness to her sundered Things
The Soul has special times-
When Dimness-looks the OddityDistinctness-
easy-seems-


The Shapes we buried, dwell about,
Familiar, in the Rooms-
Untarnished by the Sepulchre,
The Mouldering Playmate comes-


In just the Jacket that he wore-
Long buttoned in the Mold
Since we-old mornings, Children-playedDivided-
by a world-


The Grave yields back her Robberies-
The Years, our pilfered Things-
Bright Knots of Apparitions
Salute us, with their wings-


As we-it were-that perishedThemself-
had just remained till we rejoin them-
And 'twas they, and not ourself
That mourned.

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?

947

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
"A Soul has gone to Heaven"
I'm answered in a lonesome tone-
Is Heaven then a Prison?


That Bells should ring till all should know
A Soul had gone to Heaven
Would seem to me the more the way
A Good News should be given.

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate

894

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid-
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God.

The deepest hid is sighted first
And scant to Him the Crowd-
What triple Lenses burn upon
The Escapade from God-

Of Bronze—and Blaze

290

Of Bronze—and Blaze—
The North—Tonight—
So adequate—it forms—
So preconcerted with itself—
So distant—to alarms—
And Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me—
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty—
Till I take vaster attitudes—
And strut upon my stem—
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them—


My Splendors, are Menagerie—
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass—
Whom none but Beetles—know.

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

321

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs-
That phraseless Melody-
The Wind does-working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky-
Then quiver down-with tufts of Tune-
Permitted Gods, and me-

Inheritance, it is, to us-
Beyond the Art to Earn-
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers-
And inner than the Bone-
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands-
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.

I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be-
Who never heard that fleshless ChantRise-
solemn-on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept-
In Seamless Company-