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 eyes — Incautious — of the Sun —
Of nearness to her sundered Things The Soul has special times — When Dimness — looks the Oddity — Distinctness — 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 — played — Divided — 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 perished — Themself — had just remained till we rejoin them — And 'twas they, and not ourself That mourned.
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord, Then, I am ready to go! Just a look at the Horses — Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side — So I shall never fall — For we must ride to the Judgment — And it's partly, down Hill — But never I mind the steeper — And never I mind the Sea — Held fast in Everlasting Race — By my own Choice, and Thee — Goodbye to the Life I used to live — And the World I used to know — And kiss the Hills, for me, just once — Then — I am ready to go!
I like a look of Agony, Because I know it's true — Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe — The Eyes glaze once — and that is Death — Impossible to feign The Beads upon the Forehead By homely Anguish strung.
J 280, Fr 340, img.05 img.06, text
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading — treading — till it seemed That Sense was breaking through — And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum — Kept beating — beating — till I thought My Mind was going numb — And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space — began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race Wrecked, solitary, here — And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down — And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing — then —
J 281, Fr 341, img.07 img.08, text
'Tis so appalling — it exhilarates — So over Horror, it half Captivates — The Soul stares after it, secure — A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more — To scan a Ghost, is faint — But grappling, conquers it — How easy, Torment, now — Suspense kept sawing so — The Truth, is Bald, and Cold — But that will hold — If any are not sure — We show them — prayer — But we, who know, Stop hoping, now — Looking at Death, is Dying — Just let go the Breath — And not the pillow at your Cheek So Slumbereth — Others, Can wrestle — Yours, is done — And so of Woe, bleak dreaded — come, It sets the Fright at liberty — And Terror's free — Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand, Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye — Members of the Invisible, Existing, while we stare, In Leagueless Opportunity, O'ertakenless, as the Air — Why didn't we detain Them? The Heavens with a smile, Sweep by our disappointed Heads Without a syllable —
J 242, Fr 343, img.10 img.11, text
When we stand on the tops of Things — And like the Trees, look down — The smoke all cleared away from it — And Mirrors on the scene — Just laying light — no soul will wink Except it have the flaw — The Sound ones, like the Hills — shall stand — No Lighting, scares away — The Perfect, nowhere be afraid — They bear their dauntless Heads, Where others, dare not go at Noon, Protected by their deeds — The Stars dare shine occasionally Upon a spotted World — And Suns, go surer, for their Proof, As if an Axle, held —
J 445, Fr 344, img.12 img.13, text
'Twas just this time, last year, I died. I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms — It had the Tassels on — I thought how yellow it would look — When Richard went to mill — And then, I wanted to get out, But something held my will. I thought just how Red — Apples wedged The Stubble's joints between — And the Carts stooping round the fields To take the Pumpkins in — I wondered which would miss me, least, And when Thanksgiving, came, If Father'd multiply the plates — To make an even Sum — And would it blur the Christmas glee My Stocking hang too high For any Santa Claus to reach The Altitude of me — But this sort, grieved myself, And so, I thought the other way, How just this time, some perfect year — Themself, should come to me —
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death — for who is He? The Porter of my Father's Lodge As much abasheth me! Of Life? 'Twere odd I fear [a] thing That comprehendeth me In one or two existences — As Deity decree — Of Resurrection? Is the East Afraid to trust the Morn With her fastidious forehead? As soon impeach my Crown!
J 446, Fr 346, img.15 img.16, text
I showed her Heights she never saw — "Would'st Climb," I said? She said — "Not so" — "With me —" I said — With me? I showed her Secrets — Morning's Nest — The Rope the Nights were put across — And now — "Would'st have me for a Guest?" She could not find her Yes — And then, I brake my life — And Lo, A Light, for her, did solemn glow, The larger, as her face withdrew — And could she, further, "No"?