It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down —
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
Nor Fire — for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool —
And yet, it...
It was not Saint — it was too large —
Nor Snow — it was too small —
It only held itself aloof
Like something spiritual —
It was too late for man,
But early yet for God ;
Creation impotent to help,
But prayer remained our side.
How excellent the heaven,
When earth cannot be had ;
How hospitable, then, the face
Of our old...
It will be Summer — eventually.
Ladies — with parasols —
Sauntering Gentlemen — with Canes —
And little Girls — with Dolls —
Will tint the pallid landscape —
As 'twere a bright Bouquet —
Tho' drifted deep, in Parian —
The Village lies — today —
The Lilacs — bending...
It would have starved a Gnat —
To live so small as I —
And yet I was a living Child —
With Food's necessity
Upon me — like a Claw —
I could no more remove
Than I could coax a Leech away —
Or make a Dragon — move —
Not like the Gnat — had I —
The privilege...
It would never be Common — more — I said —
Difference — had begun —
Many a bitterness — had been —
But that old sort — was done —
Or — if it sometime — showed — as 'twill —
Upon the Downiest — Morn —
Such bliss — had I — for all the years —
'Twould give an Easier — pain —
...
It would not know if it were spurned,
This gallant little flower —
How therefore safe to be a flower
If one would tamper there.
To enter, it would not aspire —
But may it not despair
That it is not a Cavalier,
To dare and perish there?
It's all I have to bring today —
This, and my heart beside —
This, and my heart, and all the fields —
And all the meadows wide —
Be sure you count — should I forget
Some one the sum could tell —
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
It's coming — the postponeless Creature —
It gains the Block — and now — it gains the Door —
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings —
Enters — with a "You know Me — Sir"?
Simple Salute — and certain Recognition —
Bold — were it Enemy — Brief — were it friend —
Dresses each House in Crape...
It's easy to invent a Life —
God does it — every Day —
Creation — but the Gambol
Of His Authority —
It's easy to efface it —
The thrifty Deity
Could scarce afford Eternity
To Spontaneity —
The Perished Patterns murmur —
But His Perturbless Plan
...