The Infinite a sudden Guest
Has been assumed to be —
But how can that stupendous come
Which never went away?
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The inundation of the Spring
Enlarges every soul —
It sweeps the tenement away
But leaves the Water whole —
In which the soul at first estranged —
Seeks faintly for its shore
But acclimated — pines no more
For that Peninsula — -
The Jay his Castanet has struck
Put on your muff for Winter
The Tippet that ignores his voice
Is impudent to nature
Of Swarthy Days he is the close
His Lotus is a chestnut
The Cricket drops a sable line
No more from yours at present -
The joy that has no stem no core,
Nor seed that we can sow,
Is edible to longing.
But ablative to show.
By fundamental palates
Those products are preferred
Impregnable to transit
And patented by pod. -
The Judge is like the Owl —
I've heard my Father tell —
And Owls do build in Oaks —
So here's an Amber Sill —
That slanted in my Path —
When going to the Barn —
And if it serve You for a House —
Itself is not in vain —
About the price — 'tis small —
I only...The Juggler's Hat her Country is —
The Mountain Gorse — the Bee's!The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At rarer intervals —
The little Bird would not dissent
But meekly recognize
The Gulf between the Hand and Her
And crumbless and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore —In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less —
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.
But when the Night had thrown her...The Lamp burns sure — within —
Tho' Serfs — supply the Oil —
It matters not the busy Wick —
At her phosphoric toil!
The Slave — forgets — to fill —
The Lamp — burns golden — on —
Unconscious that the oil is out —
As that the Slave — is gone.