J 276

Many a phrase has the English language —
I have heard but one —
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud, as the Thunder's Tongue —

Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,
When the Tide's a' lull —
Saying itself in new infection —
Like a Whippoorwill —

Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep —
Thundering its Prospective —
Till I stir, and weep —

Not for the Sorrow, done me —
But the push of Joy —
Say it again, Saxon!
Hush — Only to me!

J 284

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea —
Forgets her own locality —
As I — toward Thee —

She knows herself an incense small —
Yet small — she sighs — if All — is All —
How larger — be?

The Ocean — smiles — at her Conceit —
But she, forgetting Amphitrite —
Pleads — “Me”?

J 285

The Robin's my Criterion for Tune —
Because I grow — where Robins do —
But, were I Cuckoo born —
I'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 —

J 288

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you — Nobody — Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd banish us — you know!

How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — like a Frog —
To tell one's name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!

J 298

Alone, I cannot be —
For Hosts — do visit me —
Recordless Company —
Who baffle Key —

They have no Robes, nor Names —
No Almanacs — nor Climes —
But general Homes
Like Gnomes —

Their Coming, may be known
By Couriers within —
Their going — is not —
For they've never gone —

J 500

Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel —
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill —

He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose —
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted —
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres —
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we —
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity —

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye —
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!

J 520

I started Early — Took my Dog —
And visited the Sea —
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me —

And Frigates — in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands —
Presuming Me to be a Mouse —
Aground — upon the Sands —

But no Man moved Me — till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe —
And past my Apron — and my Belt —
And past my Bodice — too —

And made as He would eat me up —
As wholly as a Dew
Upon a Dandelion's Sleeve —
And then — I started — too —

And He — He followed — close behind —
I felt his Silver Heel
Upon my Ankle — Then my Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl —

Until We met the Solid Town —
No One He seemed to know —
And bowing — with a Mighty look —
At me — The Sea withdrew —

J 613

They shut me up in Prose —
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet —
Because they liked me “still” —

Still! Could themself have peeped —
And seen my Brain — go round —
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound —

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity —
And laugh — No more have I —

J 628

They called me to the Window, for
“'Twas Sunset” — Some one said —
I only saw a Sapphire Farm —
And just a Single Herd —

Of Opal Cattle — feeding far
Upon so vain a Hill —
As even while I looked — dissolved —
Nor Cattle were — nor Soil —

But in their stead — a Sea — displayed —
And Ships — of such a size
As Crew of Mountains — could afford —
And Decks — to seat the skies —

This — too — the Showman rubbed away —
And when I looked again —
Nor Farm — nor Opal Herd — was there —
Nor Mediterranean —

J 633

When Bells stop ringing — Church — begins
The Positive — of Bells —
When Cogs — stop — that's Circumference —
The Ultimate — of Wheels.

J 653

Of Being is a Bird
The likest to the Down
An Easy Breeze do put afloat
The General Heavens — upon —

It soars — and shifts — and whirls —
And measures with the Clouds
In easy — even — dazzling pace —
No different the Birds —

Except a Wake of Music
Accompany their feet —
As did the Down emit a Tune —
For Ecstasy — of it

J 657

I dwell in Possibility —
A fairer House than Prose —
More numerous of Windows —
Superior — for Doors —

Of Chambers as the Cedars —
Impregnable of Eye —
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —

Of Visitors — the fairest —
For Occupation — This —
The spreading wide of narrow Hands
To gather Paradise —

J 667

Bloom upon the Mountain — stated —
Blameless of a Name —
Efflorescence of a Sunset —
Reproduced — the same —

Seed, had I, my Purple Sowing
Should endow the Day —
Not a Topic of a Twilight —
Show itself away —

Who for tilling — to the Mountain
Come, and disappear —
Whose be Her Renown, or fading,
Witness, is not here —

While I state — the Solemn Petals,
Far as North — and East,
Far as South and West — expanding —
Culminate — in Rest —

And the Mountain to the Evening
Fit His Countenance —
Indicating, by no Muscle —
The Experience —

J 709

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 —

J 710

The Sunrise runs for Both —
The East — Her Purple Troth
Keeps with the Hill —
The Noon unwinds Her Blue
Till One Breadth cover Two —
Remotest — still —

Nor does the Night forget
A Lamp for Each — to set —
Wicks wide away —
The North — Her blazing Sign
Erects in Iodine —
Till Both — can see —

The Midnight's Dusky Arms
Clasp Hemispheres, and Homes
And so
Upon Her Bosom — One —
And One upon Her Hem —
Both lie —

J 716

The Day undressed — Herself —
Her Garter — was of Gold —
Her Petticoat — of Purple plain —
Her Dimities — as old

Exactly — as the World —
And yet the newest Star —
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled — much as Her —

Too near to God — to pray —
Too near to Heaven — to fear —
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care —

Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On Ball of Mast in Bosporus —
And Dome — and Window Pane —

J 866

Fame is the tint that Scholars leave
Upon their Setting Names —
The Iris not of Occident
That disappears as comes —

J 1268

Confirming All who analyze
In the Opinion fair
That Eloquence is when the Heart
Has not a Voice to spare —