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Until there crept uponA Chill—like frost upon a Glass—Till all the scene—be gone.The Forehead copied Stone—The Fingers grew too coldTo ache—and like a Skater’s Brook—The busy eyes—congealed—It straightened—that was all—It crowded Cold to Cold—It multiplied indifference—As Pride were all it could—And even when with Cords—‘Twas lowered, like a Weight—It made no Signal, nor demurred,But dropped…

There’s nothing cooler falls—Than Life’s sweet Calculations—The mixing Bells and Palls—Make Lacerating Tune—To Ears the Dying Side—‘Tis Coronal—and Funeral—Saluting—in the Road—

By strech of limb or stir of lid, —An independent one.Was ever idleness like this?Within a hut of stoneTo bask the centuries awayNor once look up for noon?

Just a look at the horses —Rapid! That will do!Put me in on the firmest side,So I shall never fall;For we must ride to the Judgment,And it’s partly down hill.But never I mind the bridges,And never I mind the sea;Held fast in everlasting raceBy my own choice and thee.Good-by to the life I used to…

I felt the Columns close—The Earth reversed her Hemispheres—I touched the Universe—And back it slid—and I alone—A Speck upon a Ball—Went out upon Circumference—Beyond the Dip of Bell—

Glad—gay—Houses—Sealed so stately tight—Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble—Locking Bare feet out—Brooks of Plush—in Banks of SatinNot so softly fallAs the laughter—and the whisper—From their People Pearl—No Bald Death—affront their Parlors—No Bold Sickness comeTo deface their Stately Treasures—Anguish—and the Tomb—Hum by—in Muffled Coaches—Lest they—wonder Why—Any—for the Press of Smiling—Interrupt—to die—