That after Horror — that 'twas us —
That passed the mouldering Pier —
Just as the Granite Crumb let go —
Our Savior, by a Hair —
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb —
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb —
The possibility — to...
That Distance was between Us
That is not of Mile or Main —
The Will it is that situates —
Equator — never can —
That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet,
And said that I was strong —
And could be mighty, if I liked —
That Day — the Days among —
Glows Central — like a Jewel
Between Diverging Golds —
The Minor One — that gleamed behind —
And Vaster — of the World's.
That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived — Enough —
That I shall love alway —
I argue thee
That love is life —
And life hath Immortality —
This — dost thou doubt — Sweet —
Then have I
Nothing to show
...
That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday
Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.
That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.
Believing what we don't believe
Does not exhilarate.
That if it be, it be at best
An ablative estate —
This instigates an appetite
Precisely opposite.
That Love is all there is,
Is all we know of Love;
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.
That odd old man is dead a year —
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.
Who miss his antiquated Wick —
Are any hoar for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?
Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
...
That sacred Closet when you sweep —
Entitled "Memory" —
Select a reverential Broom —
And do it silently.
'Twill be a Labor of surprise —
Besides Identity
Of other Interlocutors
A probability —
August the Dust of that Domain —
Unchallenged — let it lie —...
That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.
Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame.