• “The cry of the cicada

    Gives us no sign

    That presently it will die.”

  • The daisy follows soft the sun,

        And when his golden walk is done,

      Sits shyly at his feet.

    He, walking, finds the flower near.

    "Wherefore, marauder, art thou here ?

      "Because, sir, love is sweet !"


    We are the...

  • The Dandelion's pallid tube

    Astonishes the Grass,

    And Winter instantly becomes

    An infinite Alas —


    The tube uplifts a signal Bud

    And then a shouting Flower, —

    The Proclamation of the Suns

    That sepulture is o'er.

  • The Day came slow — till Five o'clock —

    Then sprang before the Hills

    Like Hindered Rubies — or the Light

    A Sudden Musket — spills —


    The Purple could not keep the East —

    The Sunrise shook abroad

    Like Breadths of Topaz — packed a Night —

    The Lady just unrolled —


    The...

  • The Day grew small, surrounded tight

    By early, stooping Night —

    The Afternoon in Evening deep

    Its Yellow shortness dropt —

    The Winds went out their martial ways

    The Leaves obtained excuse —

    November hung his Granite Hat

    Upon a nail of Plush —

  • The Day she goes

    Or Day she stays

    Are equally supreme —

    Existence has a stated width

    Departed, or at Home —

  • The Day that I was crowned

    Was like the other Days —

    Until the Coronation came —

    And then — 'twas Otherwise —


    As Carbon in the Coal

    And Carbon in the Gem

    Are One — and yet the former

    Were dull for Diadem —


    I rose, and all was plain —

    But when the Day...

  • The Day undressed — Herself —

    Her Garter — was of Gold —

    Her Petticoat — of Purple plain —

    Her Dimities — as old


    Exactly — as the World —

    And yet the newest Star —

    Enrolled upon the Hemisphere

    Be wrinkled — much as Her —


    Too near to God — to pray —

    Too near...

  • The Days that we can spare

    Are those a Function die

    Or Friend or Nature — stranded then

    In our Economy


    Our Estimates a Scheme —

    Our Ultimates a Sham —

    We let go all of Time without

    Arithmetic of him —

  • Then all the disciples forsook him and fled.-ST. MATTHEW xxvi. 56.




    FLED!-and from whom? The Man of woe

         Who in Gethsemane had felt

    Such pangs as bade the blood-drops flow,

         And the crushed heart with anguish melt?

    They who were gathered round his board,

         Partook his...