• The shearers sat in the firelight, hearty and hale and strong,

    After the hard day's shearing, passing the joke along:

    The "ringer" that shore a hundred, as they never were shorn before,

    And the novice who, toiling bravely, had tommy-hawked half a score,

    The tarboy, the cook and the skushy, the sweeper that swept the board,...

  • Those not live yet

    Who doubt to live again —

    "Again" is of a twice

    But this — is one —

    The Ship beneath the Draw

    Aground — is he?

    Death — so — the Hyphen of the Sea —

    Deep is the Schedule

    Of the Disk to be —

    Costumeless Consciousness —

    That is he —

    ...

  • Those who have been in the Grave the longest —

    Those who begin Today —

    Equally perish from our Practise —

    Death is the other way —


    Foot of the Bold did least attempt it —

    It — is the White Exploit —

    Once to achieve, annuls the power

    Once to communicate —

  • Those — dying then,

    Knew where they went —

    They went to God's Right Hand —

    That Hand is amputated now

    And God cannot be found —


    The abdication of Belief

    Makes the Behavior small —

    Better an ignis fatuus

    Than no illume at all —

  • Though the great Waters sleep,

    That they are still the Deep,

    We cannot doubt —

    No vacillating God

    Ignited this Abode

    To put it out —

  •         "Even in our ashes live their wonted fires."

     

                            Bury me by the sea,

            When on my heart the hand of Death is press'd.

            If the soul lingers ere she join the bless'd,

                            And haunts awhile her clay,

            Then 'mid the forest shades I would...

  • "Thought I, the fallen flowers

    Are returning to their branch;

    But lo! they were butterflies."



  • Alas! my thoughts, how faint they rise,
    Their pinions clogg'd with dirt;

    They cannot gain the distant skies,
    But gravitate to earth.


    No angel...




  •         Speak low—tread softly through these halls;

               Here genius lives enshrined,—

            Here reign, in silent majesty,

               The monarchs of the mind.


            A mighty spirit-host they come,

               From every age and clime;

            Above the buried wrecks of...

  • Three times — we parted — Breath — and I —

    Three times — He would not go —

    But strove to stir the lifeless Fan

    The Waters — strove to stay.


    Three Times — the Billows tossed me up —

    Then caught me — like a Ball —

    Then made Blue faces in my face —

    And pushed away a sail


    ...