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—
Oh, Groping feet—
Oh Phantom Queen!
Remembered but by me.I touched her Cradle mute—She recognized the foot—Put on her carmine suitAnd see!
Has a fictitious CharterOr it has none –Balked in the vastest instanceBut to renew –Felled by but one assassin –Prosperity –
Two—be finished using—Well enough for Schools—But for Minor Choosing—Life—just—or Death—Or the Everlasting—More—would be too vastFor the Soul’s Comprising—
Better, to be found,If one care to, that is,The Fox fits the Hound—Good to know, and not tell,Best, to know and tell,Can one find the rare EarNot too dull—
As when on NoonA Cloud the mighty Sun enclosesRememberingThat some there be too numb to noticeOh GodWhy give if Thou must take awayThe Loved?
I winnowed what would fadeFrom what would last till Heads like mineShould be a-dreaming laid.I put the latter in a Barn—The former, blew away.I went one winter morningAnd lo – my priceless HayWas not upon the ‘Scaffold’—Was not upon the ‘Beam’—And from a thriving Farmer—A Cynic, I became.Whether a Thief did it—Whether it was the…
