• The Flower must not blame the Bee —

    That seeketh his felicity

    Too often at her door —


    But teach the Footman from Vevay —

    Mistress is "not at home" — to say —

    To people — any more!

  • The Frost of Death was on the Pane —

    "Secure your Flower" said he.

    Like Sailors fighting with a Leak

    We fought Mortality.


    Our passive Flower we held to Sea —

    To Mountain — To the Sun —

    Yet even on his Scarlet shelf

    To crawl the Frost begun —


    We pried him back
    ...

  • The Frost was never seen —

    If met, too rapid passed,

    Or in too unsubstantial Team —

    The Flowers notice first


    A Stranger hovering round

    A Symptom of alarm

    In Villages remotely set

    But search effaces him


    Till some retrieveless Night

    Our Vigilance at waste...

  • That short, potential stir

    That each can make but once,

    That bustle so illustrious

    'T is almost consequence,


    Is the éclat of death.

    Oh, thou unknown renown

    That not a beggar would accept,

    Had he the...

  • The Future — never spoke —

    Nor will He — like the Dumb —

    Reveal by sign — a syllable

    Of His Profound To Come —


    But when the News be ripe —

    Presents it — in the Act —

    Forestalling Preparation —

    Escape — or Substitute —


    Indifference to Him —

    The Dower — as...

  • The Gentian has a parched Corolla —

    Like azure dried

    'Tis Nature's buoyant juices

    Beatified —

    Without a vaunt or sheen

    As casual as Rain

    And as benign —


    When most is part — it comes —

    Nor isolate it seems

    Its Bond its Friend —

    To fill its Fringed...

  • The Gentian weaves her fringes —

    The Maple's loom is red —

    My departing blossoms

    Obviate parade.


    A brief, but patient illness —

    An hour to prepare,

    And one below this morning

    Is where the angels are —

    It was a short procession,

    The Bobolink was there —
    ...

  • The gleam of an heroic Act

    Such strange illumination

    The Possible's slow fuse is lit

    By the Imagination.

  • The going from a world we know

    To one a wonder still

    Is like the child's adversity

    Whose vista is a hill,

    Behind the hill is sorcery

    And everything unknown,

    But will the secret compensate

    For climbing it alone?

  • The good Will of a Flower

    The Man who would possess

    Must first present

    Certificate

    Of minted Holiness.