• When I count the seeds

    That are sown beneath,

    To bloom so, bye and bye —

    When I con the people

    Lain so low,

    To be received as high —

    When I believe the garden

    Mortal shall not see —

    Pick by faith its blossom

    And avoid its Bee,

    I can spare this summer,...

  • When I have seen the Sun emerge

    From His amazing House —

    And leave a Day at every Door

    A Deed, in every place —


    Without the incident of Fame

    Or accident of Noise —

    The Earth has seemed to me a Drum,

    Pursued of little Boys

  • When I hoped I feared —

    Since I hoped I dared

    Everywhere alone

    As a Church remain —

    Spectre cannot harm —

    Serpent cannot charm —

    He deposes Doom

    Who hath suffered him —

  • When I hoped, I recollect

    Just the place I stood —

    At a Window facing West —

    Roughest Air — was good —


    Not a Sleet could bite me —

    Not a frost could cool —

    Hope it was that kept me warm —

    Not Merino shawl —


    When I feared — I recollect

    Just the Day it was —...

  •  
    * * *


    When I see a Rubens Rembrant Correggio

    I think of the Crippled Harry & Slobbering Joe

    And then I question thus are artists rules

    To be drawn from the works of two manifest fools
    5 Then God...

  • When I was small, a Woman died —

    Today — her Only Boy

    Went up from the Potomac —

    His face all Victory


    To look at her — How slowly

    The Seasons must have turned

    Till Bullets clipt an Angle

    And He passed quickly round —


    If pride shall be in Paradise —

    Ourself...

  • When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side,

    When Katie runs unwearied they follow on the road,

    When Katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee —

    Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, with two so knit to thee!

  • If Blake could do this when he rose up from shite

    What might he not do if he sat down to write[4]

  • When Memory is full

    Put on the perfect Lid —

    This Morning's finest syllable

    Presumptuous Evening said —

  • When Night is almost done —

    And Sunrise grows so near

    That we can touch the Spaces —

    It's time to smooth the Hair —


    And get the Dimples ready —

    And wonder we could care

    For that old — faded Midnight —

    That frightened — but an Hour —