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Is but a symbol of the Place—And when again, at Dawn,A mighty look runs round the WorldAnd settles in the Hills—An Awe if it should be like thatUpon the Ignorance steals—The Orchard, when the Sun is on—The Triumph of the BirdsWhen they together Victory make—Some Carnivals of Clouds—The Rapture of a finished Day—Returning to the…

I met one, — forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightaway.God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine. How dreary marbles,After playing the Crown!

Or Bees, at Christmas show—So fairy—so fictitiousThe individuals doRepealed from observation—A Party that we knew—More distant in an instantThan Dawn in Timbuctoo.

All other Plaudit beSuperfluous—An IncenseBeyond Necessity—Fame of Myself to lack—AlthoughMy Name be else Supreme—This were an Honor honorless—A futile Diadem—

Can’t put the puppet bowingThat just now dangled still.An awe came on the trinket!The figures hunched with pain,Then quivered out of decimalsInto degreeless noon.It will not stir for doctors,This pendulum of snow;The shopman importunes it,While cool, concernless NoNods from the gilded pointers,Nods from seconds slim,Decades of arrogance betweenThe dial life and him.

Why, God, would be contentWith but a fraction of the Life—Poured thee, without a stint—The whole of me—forever—What more the Woman can,Say quick, that I may dower theeWith last Delight I own!It cannot be my Spirit—For that was thine, before—I ceded all of Dust I knew—What Opulence the moreHad I—a freckled Maiden,Whose farthest of Degree,Was—that…