It was a quiet way —
He asked if I was his —
I made no answer of the Tongue
But answer of the Eyes —
And then He bore me on
Before this mortal noise
With swiftness, as of Chariots
And distance, as of Wheels.
This World did drop away
As Acres from the feet
...
It was given to me by the Gods —
When I was a little Girl —
They given us Presents most — you know —
When we are new — and small.
I kept it in my Hand —
I never put it down —
I did not dare to eat — or sleep —
For fear it would be gone —
I heard such words as "Rich" —
...
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 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 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
...