Sweet, to have had them lost
For news that they be saved —
The nearer they departed Us
The nearer they, restored,
Shall stand to Our Right Hand —
Most precious and the Dead —
Next precious
Those that rose to go —
Then thought of Us, and stayed.
-
-
* * *
Swelld limbs with no outline that you can descry
That Stink in the Nose of a Stander by
But all the Pulp washd painted finishd with labour
Of an hundred journeymens how dye do Neighbour -
* * *
The sword sung on the barren heath
The sickle in the fruitful field
The sword he sung a song of death
But could not make the sickle yield[3] -
* * *
S—— in Childhood on the Nursery floor
Was extreme Old & most extremely poor
He is grown old & rich & what he will
He is extreme old & extreme poor still -
Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy,
And I am richer then than all my Fellow Men —
Ill it becometh me to dwell so wealthily
When at my very Door are those possessing more,
In abject poverty — -
Take all away —
The only thing worth larceny
Is left — the Immortality — -
Take your Heaven further on —
This — to Heaven divine Has gone —
Had You earlier blundered in
Possibly, e'en You had seen
An Eternity — put on —
Now — to ring a Door beyond
Is the utmost of Your Hand —
To the Skies — apologize —
Nearer to Your Courtesies
Than this...Taken from men — this morning —
Carried by men today —
Met by the Gods with banners —
Who marshalled her away —
One little maid — from playmates —
One little mind from school —
There must be guests in Eden —
All the rooms are full —
Far — as the East from Even —
...Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture — we discover —
Or a splintered Crown —
Makes the Heavens portable —
And the Gods — a lie —
Doubtless — "Adam" — scowled at Eden —
For his perjury!
Cherishing — our pool Ideal —
Till in purer dress...Talk not to me of Summer Trees
The foliage of the mind
A Tabernacle is for Birds
Of no corporeal kind
And winds do go that way at noon
To their Ethereal Homes
Whose Bugles call the least of us
To undepicted Realms