Noon — is the Hinge of Day —
Evening — the Tissue Door —
Morning — the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar —
-
-
Not "Revelation" — 'tis — that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes — -
Not any higher stands the Grave
For Heroes than for Men —
Not any nearer for the Child
Than numb Three Score and Ten —
This latest Leisure equal lulls
The Beggar and his Queen
Propitiate this Democrat
A Summer's Afternoon — -
Not any more to be lacked —
Not any more to be known —
Denizen of Significance
For a span so worn —
Even Nature herself
Has forgot it is there —
Sedulous of her Multitudes
Notwithstanding Despair —
Of the Ones that pursued it
Suing it not to go
...Not any sunny tone
From any fervent zone
Find entrance there —
Better a grave of Balm
Toward human nature's home —
And Robins near —
Than a stupendous Tomb
Proclaiming to the Gloom
How dead we are —Not at Home to Callers
Says the Naked Tree —
Bonnet due in April —
Wishing you Good Day —Not in this World to see his face —
Sounds long — until I read the place
Where this — is said to be
But just the Primer — to a life —
Unopened — rare — Upon the Shelf —
Clasped yet — to Him — and Me —
And yet — My Primer suits me so
I would not choose — a Book to know
Than...Not knowing when the Dawn will come,
I open every Door,
Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,
Or Billows, like a Shore —Not probable — The barest Chance —
A smile too few — a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest —
The Soul so close on Paradise —
What if the Bird from journey far —
Confused by Sweets — as Mortals — are —
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish — but a Bough between —
...Not Sickness stains the Brave,
Nor any Dart,
Nor Doubt of Scene to come,
But an adjourning Heart —