• There is a flower that Bees prefer —

    And Butterflies — desire —

    To gain the Purple Democrat

    The Humming Bird — aspire —


    And Whatsoever Insect pass —

    A Honey bear away

    Proportioned to his several dearth

    And her — capacity —


    Her face be rounder than the Moon

    ...

  • There is a June when Corn is cut

    And Roses in the Seed —

    A Summer briefer than the first

    But tenderer indeed


    As should a Face supposed the Grave's

    Emerge a single Noon

    In the Vermilion that it wore

    Affect us, and return —


    Two Seasons, it is said, exist —

    ...

  • There is a Languor of the Life

    More imminent than Pain —

    'Tis Pain's Successor — When the Soul

    Has suffered all it can —


    A Drowsiness — diffuses —

    A Dimness like a Fog

    Envelops Consciousness —

    As Mists — obliterate a Crag.


    The Surgeon — does not blanch — at pain
    ...

  • There is a morn by men unseen —

    Whose maids upon remoter green

    Keep their Seraphic May —

    And all day long, with dance and game,

    And gambol I may never name —

    Employ their holiday.


    Here to light measure, move the feet

    Which walk no more the village street —

    Nor by the wood...

  • There is a pain — so utter —

    It swallows substance up —

    Then covers the Abyss with Trance —

    So Memory can step

    Around — across — upon it —

    As one within a Swoon —

    Goes safely — where an open eye —

    Would drop Him — Bone by Bone.

  • There is a Shame of Nobleness —

    Confronting Sudden Pelf —

    A finer Shame of Ecstasy —

    Convicted of Itself —


    A best Disgrace — a Brave Man feels —

    Acknowledged — of the Brave —

    One More — "Ye Blessed" — to be told —

    But that's — Behind the Grave —

  • There is a solitude of space

    A solitude of sea

    A solitude of death, but these

    Society shall be

    Compared with that profounder site

    That polar privacy

    A soul admitted to itself —

    Finite infinity.

  • There is a word

    Which bears a sword

    Can pierce an armed man -

    It hurls it's barbed syllables

    And is mute again -

    But where it fell

    The saved will tell

    On patriotic day,

    Some epauletted Brother

    Gave his breath away.


    Wherever runs the breathless sun -...

  • There is a Zone whose even Years

    No Solstice interrupt —

    Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon

    Whose perfect Seasons wait —


    Whose Summer set in Summer, till

    The Centuries of June

    And Centuries of August cease

    And Consciousness — is Noon.

  • There is an arid Pleasure —

    As different from Joy —

    As Frost is different from Dew —

    Like element — are they —


    Yet one — rejoices Flowers —

    And one — the Flowers abhor —

    The finest Honey — curdled —

    Is worthless — to the Bee —