That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday
Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.
-
-
That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.
Believing what we don't believe
Does not exhilarate.
That if it be, it be at best
An ablative estate —
This instigates an appetite
Precisely opposite. -
That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.
Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame. -
That Such have died enable Us
The tranquiller to die —
That Such have lived,
Certificate for Immortality. -
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 Admirations — and Contempts — of time —
Show justest — through an Open Tomb —
The Dying — as it were a Height
Reorganizes Estimate
And what We saw not
We distinguish clear —
And mostly — see not
What We saw before —
'Tis Compound Vision —
Light — enabling...The Angle of a Landscape —
That every time I wake —
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack —
Like a Venetian — waiting —
Accosts my open eye —
Is just a Bough of Apples —
Held slanting, in the Sky —
The Pattern of a Chimney —
The Forehead of a...The time for toil is past, and night has come,—
The last and saddest of the harvest-eves;
Worn out with labor long and wearisome,
Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home,
Each laden with his sheaves.
Last of the laborers thy feet I gain,
Lord of the harvest! and my...The Auctioneer of Parting
His "Going, going, gone"
Shouts even from the Crucifix,
And brings his Hammer down —
He only sells the Wilderness,
The prices of Despair
Range from a single human Heart
To Two — not any more —