(Compilation structure incomplete.)
J 495
It's thoughts — and just One Heart — And Old Sunshine — about — Make frugal — Ones — Content — And two or three — for Company — Upon a Holiday — Crowded — as Sacrament — Books — when the Unit — Spare the Tenant — long eno' — A Picture — if it Care — Itself — a Gallery too rare — For needing more — Flowers — to keep the Eyes — from going awkward — When it snows — A Bird — if they — prefer — Though Winter fire — sing clear as Plover — To our — ear — A Landscape — not so great To suffocate the Eye — A Hill — perhaps — Perhaps — the profile of a Mill Turned by the Wind — Tho' such — are luxuries — It's thoughts — and just two Heart — And Heaven — about — At least — a Counterfeit — We would not have Correct — And Immortality — can be almost — Not quite — Content —
J 337
I know a place where Summer strives With such a practised Frost — She — each year — leads her Daisies back — Recording briefly — "Lost" — But when the South Wind stirs the Pools And struggles in the lanes — Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow — And she pours soft Refrains Into the lap of Adamant — And spices — and the Dew — That stiffens quietly to Quartz — Upon her Amber Shoe —
J 496
As far from pity, as complaint — As cool to speech — as stone — As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone — As far from time — as History — As near yourself — Today — As Children, to the Rainbow's scarf — Or Sunset's Yellow play To eyelids in the Sepulchre — How dumb the Dancer lies — While Color's Revelations break — And blaze — the Butterflies
J 338
I know that He exists. Somewhere — in Silence — He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes. 'Tis an instant's play. 'Tis a fond Ambush — Just to make Bliss Earn her own surprise! But — should the play Prove piercing earnest — Should the glee — glaze — In Death's — stiff — stare — Would not the fun Look too expensive! Would not the jest — Have crawled too far!
J 497
He strained my faith — Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust — Did it then — yield? Hurled my belief — But — did he shatter — it? Racked — with suspense — Not a nerve failed! Wrung me — with Anguish — But I never doubted him — 'Tho' for what wrong He did never say — Stabbed — while I sued His sweet forgiveness — Jesus — it's your little "John"! Don't you know — me?
J 339
I tend my flowers for thee — Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia's Coral Seams Rip — while the Sower — dreams — Geraniums — tint — and spot — Low Daisies — dot — My Cactus — splits her Beard To show her throat — Carnations — tip their spice — And Bees — pick up — A Hyacinth — I hid — Puts out a Ruffled Head — And odors fall From flasks — so small — You marvel how they held — Globe Roses — break their satin glake — Upon my Garden floor — Yet — thou — not there — I had as lief they bore No Crimson — more — Thy flower — be gay — Her Lord — away! It ill becometh me — I'll dwell in Calyx — Gray — How modestly — alway — Thy Daisy — Draped for thee!
J 498
I envy Seas, whereon He rides — I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey — I envy Crooked Hills That gaze upon His journey — How easy All can see What is forbidden utterly As Heaven — unto me! I envy Nests of Sparrows — That dot His distant Eaves — The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane — The happy — happy Leaves — That just abroad His Window Have Summer's leave to play — The Ear Rings of Pizarro Could not obtain for me — I envy Light — that wakes Him — And Bells — that boldly ring To tell Him it is Noon, abroad — Myself — be Noon to Him — Yet interdict — my Blossom — And abrogate — my Bee — Lest Noon in Everlasting Night — Drop Gabriel — and Me —
J 499
Those fair — fictitious People — The Women — plucked away From our familiar Lifetime — The Men of Ivory — Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas — Who stay upon the Wall In Everlasting Keepsake — Can Anybody tell? We trust — in places perfecter — Inheriting Delight Beyond our faint Conjecture — Our dizzy Estimate — Remembering ourselves, we trust — Yet Blesseder — than We — Through Knowing — where We only hope — Receiving — where we — pray — Of Expectation — also — Anticipating us With transport, that would be a pain Except for Holiness — Esteeming us — as Exile — Themself — admitted Home — Through easy Miracle of Death — The Way ourself, must come —
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 340
Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot — For yet to buy another Pair Is possible, At any store — But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more — Say, Foot, decide the point — The Lady cross, or not? Verdict for Boot!
J 341
After great pain, a formal feeling comes — The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs — The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round — Of Ground, or Air, or Ought — A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone — This is the Hour of Lead — Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow — First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —
J 501
This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound — It beckons, and it baffles — Philosophy — don't know — And through a Riddle, at the last — Sagacity, must go — To guess it, puzzles scholars — To gain it, Men have borne Contempt of Generations And Crucifixion, shown — Faith slips — and laughs, and rallies — Blushes, if any see — Plucks at a twig of Evidence — And asks a Vane, the way — Much Gesture, from the Pulpit — Strong Hallelujahs roll — Narcotics cannot still the Tooth That nibbles at the soul —
J 342
It will be Summer — eventually. Ladies — with parasols — Sauntering Gentlemen — with Canes — And little Girls — with Dolls — Will tint the pallid landscape — As 'twere a bright Bouquet — Thro' drifted deep, in Parian — The Village lies — today — The Lilacs — bending many a year — Will sway with purple load — The Bees — will not despise the tune — Their Forefathers — have hummed — The Wild Rose — redden in the Bog — The Aster — on the Hill Her everlasting fashion — set — And Covenant Gentians — frill — Till Summer folds her miracle — As Women — do — their Gown — Of Priests — adjust the Symbols — When Sacrament — is done —
J 343
My Reward for Being, was This. My premium — My Bliss — An Admiralty, less — A Sceptre — penniless — And Realms — just Dross — When Thrones accost my Hands — With "Me, Miss, Me" — I'll unroll Thee — Dominions dowerless — beside this Grace — Election — Vote — The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.
J 344
'Twas the old — road — through pain — That unfrequented — one — With many a turn — and thorn — That stops — at Heaven — This — was the Town — she passed — There — where she — rested — last — Then — stepped more fast — The little tracks — close prest — Then — not so swift — Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow — Then — stopped — no other track! Wait! Look! Her little Book — The leaf — at love — turned back — Her very Hat — And this worn shoe just fits the track — Herself — though — fled! Another bed — a short one — Women make — tonight — In Chambers bright — Too out of sight — though — For our hoarse Good Night — To touch her Head!
J 502
At least — to pray — is left — is left — Oh Jesus — in the Air — I know not which thy chamber is — I'm knocking — everywhere — Thou settest Earthquake in the South — And Maelstrom, in the Sea — Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth — Hast thou no Arm for Me?
J 503
Better — than Music! For I — who heard it — I was used — to the Birds — before — This — was different — 'Twas Translation — Of all tunes I knew — and more — 'Twasn't contained — like other stanza — No one could play it — the second time — But the Composer — perfect Mozart — Perish with him — that Keyless Rhyme! So — Children — told how Brooks in Eden — Bubbled a better — Melody — Quaintly infer — Eve's great surrender — Urging the feet — that would — not — fly — Children — matured — are wiser — mostly — Eden — a legend — dimly told — Eve — and the Anguish — Grandame's story — But — I was telling a tune — I heard — Not such a strain — the Church — baptizes — When the last Saint — goes up the Aisles — Not such a stanza splits the silence — When the Redemption strikes her Bells — Let me not spill — its smallest cadence — Humming — for promise — when alone — Humming — until my faint Rehearsal — Drop into tune — around the Throne —