Suspense — is Hostiler than Death —
Death — tho'soever Broad,
Is Just Death, and cannot increase —
Suspense — does not conclude —
But perishes — to live anew —
But just anew to die —
Annihilation — plated fresh
With Immortality —
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That this should feel the need of Death
The same as those that lived
Is such a Feat of Irony
As never was — achieved —
Not satisfied to ape the Great
In his simplicity
The small must die, as well as He —
Oh the Audacity — -
The first We knew of Him was Death —
The second — was — Renown —
Except the first had justified
The second had not been. -
The Frost of Death was on the Pane —
"Secure your Flower" said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality.
Our passive Flower we held to Sea —
To Mountain — To the Sun —
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun —
We pried him back
...The Manner of its Death
When Certain it must die —
'Tis deemed a privilege to choose —
'Twas Major Andre's Way —
When Choice of Life — is past —
There yet remains a Love
Its little Fate to stipulate —
How small in those who live —
The Miracle to tease
...The Test of Love — is Death —
Our Lord — "so loved" — it saith —
What Largest Lover — hath
Another — doth —
If smaller Patience — be —
Through less Infinity —
If Bravo, sometimes swerve —
Through fainter Nerve —
Accept its Most —
And overlook — the Dust —...There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,
As lately as Today —
I know it, by the numb look
Such Houses have — alway —
The Neighbors rustle in and out —
The Doctor — drives away —
A Window opens like a Pod —
Abrupt — mechanically —
Somebody flings a Mattress out —...
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...Till Death — is narrow Loving —
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of Finiteness — be spent —
But He whose loss procures you
Such Destitution that
Your Life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate —
Until — Resemblance perfect —
...To make One's Toilette — after Death
Has made the Toilette cool
Of only Taste we cared to please
Is difficult, and still —
That's easier — than Braid the Hair —
And make the Bodice gay —
When eyes that fondled it are wrenched
By Decalogues — away —