This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea ;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery !
Night after night her purple traffic
Strews the landing with opal bales ;
...
Some things that fly there be, —
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee :
Of these no elegy.
Some things that stay there be, —
Grief, hills, eternity :
Nor this behooveth me.
There are, that resting, rise.
Can...
PART FIRST.
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt every where;
And each...
The Show is not the Show
But they that go —
Menagerie to me
My Neighbor be —
Fair Play —
Both went to see —
The Skies can't keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills —
The Hills just tell the Orchards —
And they — the Daffodils!
A Bird — by chance — that goes that way —
Soft overhears the whole —
If I should bribe the little Bird —
Who knows but she would tell?
I think I...
The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go —
A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
The smouldering embers blush —
Oh Hearts within the Coal
Hast thou survived so many years?
The smouldering embers smile —
Soft stirs the news of Light
The stolid seconds glow
One requisite has Fire that lasts
Prometheus never knew —
The Soul has Bandaged moments —
When too appalled to stir —
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her —
Salute her — with long fingers —
Caress her freezing hair —
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover — hovered — o'er —
Unworthy, that a thought so...
The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —
To her divine Majority —
Present no more —
Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing —
At her low Gate —
Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat —
I've known her — from an ample nation —
...
The Soul should always stand ajar
That if the Heaven inquire
He will not be obliged to wait
Or shy of troubling Her
Depart, before the Host have slid
The Bolt unto the Door —
To search for the accomplished Guest,
Her Visitor, no more —