The Battle fought between the Soul
And No Man — is the One
Of all the Battles prevalent —
By far the Greater One —
No News of it is had abroad —
Its Bodiless Campaign
Establishes, and terminates —
Invisible — Unknown —
Nor History — record it —
As Legions...
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee :
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
...
The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly ;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists ?
...
The Beggar at the Door for Fame
Were easily supplied
But Bread is that Diviner thing
Disclosed to be denied
The Beggar Lad — dies early —
It's Somewhat in the Cold —
And Somewhat in the Trudging feet —
And haply, in the World —
The Cruel — smiling — bowing World —
That took its Cambric Way —
Nor heard the timid cry for "Bread" —
"Sweet Lady — Charity" —
Among Redeemed...
I.
WHILE cruel to your wishing slave,
You still refuse the boon I crave,
Confess, what joy that precious pearl
Conveys to thee, my lovely girl?
II.
Dost thou not act the miser's part,
Who with an aching, lab'ring heart,
Counts the dull joyless shining...
The Bible is an antique Volume —
Written by faded men
At the suggestion of Holy Spectres —
Subjects — Bethlehem —
Eden — the ancient Homestead —
Satan — the Brigadier —
Judas — the Great Defaulter —
David — the Troubador —
Sin — a distinguished Precipice
Others must...
The Bird did prance — the Bee did play —
The Sun ran miles away
So blind with joy he could not choose
Between his Holiday
The morn was up — the meadows out
The Fences all but ran,
Republic of Delight, I thought
Where each is Citizen —
From Heavy laden Lands to thee...
The Bird her punctual music brings
And lays it in its place —
Its place is in the Human Heart
And in the Heavenly Grace —
What respite from her thrilling toil
Did Beauty ever take —
But Work might be electric Rest
To those that Magic make —
The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb
What merit have the Tune
No Breakfast if it guaranty
The Rose content may bloom
To gain renown of Lady's Drawer
But if the Lady come
But once a Century, the Rose
Superfluous become —