On this woundrous sea - sailing silently -
Ho! Pilot! Ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar -
Where the storm is o'er?
In the silent West
Many - the sails at rest -
Then anchors fast.
Thither I pilot thee -
Land! Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at...
Once more, my now bewildered Dove
Bestirs her puzzled wings
Once more her mistress, on the deep
Her troubled question flings —
Thrice to the floating casement
The Patriarch's bird returned,
Courage! My brave Columba!
There may yet be land
One and One — are One —
Two — be finished using —
Well enough for Schools —
But for Minor Choosing —
Life — just — or Death —
Or the Everlasting —
More — would be too vast
For the Soul's Comprising —
One Anguish — in a Crowd —
A Minor thing — it sounds —
And yet, unto the single Doe
Attempted of the Hounds
'Tis Terror as consummate
As Legions of Alarm
Did leap, full flanked, upon the Host —
'Tis Units — make the Swarm —
A Small Leech — on the Vitals —
...
One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging — satisfied —
For this enchanted size —
It was the limit of my Dream —
The focus of my Prayer —
A perfect — paralyzing Bliss —
Contented as Despair —
I knew no more of Want — or Cold —
...
One crown that no one seeks
And yet the highest head
Its isolation coveted
Its stigma deified
While Pontius Pilate lives
In whatsoever hell
That coronation pierces him
He recollects it well.
One Crucifixion is recorded — only —
How many be
Is not affirmed of Mathematics —
Or History —
One Calvary — exhibited to Stranger —
As many be
As persons — or Peninsulas —
Gethsemane —
Is but a Province — in the Being's Centre —
Judea —
For...
One Day is there of the Series
Termed Thanksgiving Day.
Celebrated part at Table
Part in Memory.
Neither Patriarch nor Pussy
I dissect the Play
Seems it to my Hooded thinking
Reflex Holiday.
Had there been no sharp Subtraction
From the early Sum —
...
One dignity delays for all,
One mitred afternoon.
None can avoid this purple,
None evade this crown.
Coach it insures, and footmen,
Chamber and state and throng ;
Bells, also, in the village,
As we ride...
One Joy of so much anguish
Sweet nature has for me
I shun it as I do Despair
Or dear iniquity —
Why Birds, a Summer morning
Before the Quick of Day
Should stab my ravished spirit
With Dirks of Melody
Is part of an inquiry
That will receive reply
When Flesh...