There are two Ripenings — one — of sight —

There are two Ripenings — one — of sight —

Whose forces Spheric wind

Until the Velvet product

Drop spicy to the ground —

A homelier maturing —

A process in the Bur —

That teeth of Frosts alone disclose...

Poet:
There came a Day at Summer's full,

There came a Day at Summer's full,

Entirely for me —

I thought that such were for the Saints,

Where Resurrections — be —


The Sun, as common, went abroad,

The flowers, accustomed, blew,

As if no soul...

Poet:
There came a Wind like a Bugle —

There came a Wind like a Bugle —

It quivered through the Grass

And a Green Chill upon the Heat

So ominous did pass

We barred the Windows and the Doors

As from an Emerald Ghost —

The Doom's electric...

Poet:
There comes a warning like a spy

There comes a warning like a spy

A shorter breath of Day

A stealing that is not a stealth

And Summers are away —

Poet:
There comes an hour when begging stops,

There comes an hour when begging stops,

When the long interceding lips

Perceive their prayer is vain.

"Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword

Than from a disappointing God

"Disciple, call again."

Poet:
There is a finished feeling

There is a finished feeling

Experienced at Graves —

A leisure of the Future —

A Wilderness of Size.


By Death's bold Exhibition

Preciser what we are

And the Eternal function

Enabled to...

Poet:
There is a flower that Bees prefer —

There is a flower that Bees prefer —

And Butterflies — desire —

To gain the Purple Democrat

The Humming Bird — aspire —


And Whatsoever Insect pass —

A Honey bear away

Proportioned to his several...

Poet:
There is a June when Corn is cut

There is a June when Corn is cut

And Roses in the Seed —

A Summer briefer than the first

But tenderer indeed


As should a Face supposed the Grave's

Emerge a single Noon

In the Vermilion that it wore...

Poet:
There is a Languor of the Life

There is a Languor of the Life

More imminent than Pain —

'Tis Pain's Successor — When the Soul

Has suffered all it can —


A Drowsiness — diffuses —

A Dimness like a Fog

Envelops Consciousness —
...

Poet:
There is a morn by men unseen —

There is a morn by men unseen —

Whose maids upon remoter green

Keep their Seraphic May —

And all day long, with dance and game,

And gambol I may never name —

Employ their holiday.


Here to light...

Poet: