The words the happy say
Are paltry melody
But those the silent feel
Are beautiful —
-
-
The Work of Her that went,
The Toil of Fellows done —
In Ovens green our Mother bakes,
By Fires of the Sun. -
-
-
The World — feels Dusty
When We stop to Die —
We want the Dew — then —
Honors — taste dry —
Flags — vex a Dying face —
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand —
Cools — like the Rain —
Mine be the Ministry
When thy Thirst comes —
And Hybla...The World — stands — solemner — to me —
Since I was wed — to Him —
A modesty befits the soul
That bears another's — name —
A doubt — if it be fair — indeed —
To wear that perfect — pearl —
The Man — upon the Woman — binds —
To clasp her soul — for all —
A prayer, that it more...The worthlessness of Earthly things
The Ditty is that Nature Sings —
And then — enforces their delight
Till Synods are inordinate —The Zeroes — taught us — Phosphorous —
We learned to like the Fire
By playing Glaciers — when a Boy —
And Tinder — guessed — by power
Of Opposite — to balance Odd —
If White — a Red — must be!
Paralysis — our Primer — dumb —
Unto Vitality!Their Barricade against the Sky
The martial Trees withdraw
And with a Flag at every turn
Their Armies are no more.
What Russet Halts in Nature's March
They indicate or cause
An inference of Mexico
Effaces the Surmise —
Recurrent to the After Mind
That...Their dappled importunity
Disparage or dismiss —
The Obloquies of Etiquette
Are obsolete to Bliss —