They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man —
His fingers are the size of fists —
His fists, the size of men —
And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand —
Gibraltar's Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,
So trust him, Comrade —...
They might not need me but; they might.
I'll let my Head be just in sight;
A smile as small as mine might be
Precisely their necessity.
They put Us far apart —
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula —
We signified "These see" —
They took away our Eyes —
They thwarted Us with Guns —
"I see Thee" each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs —
With Dungeons — They devised —
But...
They shut me up in Prose —
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet —
Because they liked me "still" —
Still! Could themself have peeped —
And seen my Brain — go round —
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound —
Himself has but to will...
They talk as slow as Legends grow
No mushroom is their mind
But foliage of sterility
Too stolid for the wind —
They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit
Predestined to unfold
The point with bland prevision
Portentously untold.
They won't frown always — some sweet Day
When I forget to tease —
They'll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said "Please."
Then They will hasten to the Door
To call the little Girl
Who cannot thank Them for the Ice
That filled the lisping full.
This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
Is traversing the interval
Experience between
And most profound experiment
Appointed unto Men —
How adequate unto itself
Its properties shall be...
This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.
On her departing span
No wilderness remain
As dauntless in the House of Death
As if it were her own —
This ev'ning, Delia, you and I,
Have manag'd most delightfully,
For with a frown we parted;
Having contrived some trifle that
We both may be much troubled at,
And sadly disconcerted.
Yet well as each perform'd their part,
We might perceive it was but art,
And that...
This heart that broke so long —
These feet that never flagged —
This faith that watched for star in vain,
Give gently to the dead —
Hound cannot overtake the Hare
That fluttered panting, here —
Nor any schoolboy rob the nest
Tenderness builded there.