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Just one time!Charged us to forget Him—But we couldn’t learn!Were Himself—such a Dunce—What would we—do?Love the dull lad—best—Oh, wouldn’t you?

The Sun does not allowCaprices of the Atmosphere—And even when the SnowHeaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious BoyDirectly in His Eye—Does not so much as turn His HeadBusy with Majesty—‘Tis His to stimulate the Earth—And magnetize the Sea—And bind Astronomy, in place,Yet Any passing byWould deem Ourselves—the busierAs the Minutest BeeThat rides—emits a Thunder—A Bomb—to…

Was saying YesterdayTo Somebody you knowThat you were due—The Frogs got Home last Week—Are settled, and at work—Birds, mostly back—The Clover warm and thick—You’ll get my Letter byThe seventeenth; ReplyOr better, be with me—Yours, Fly.

I—hastened to demandTo fill the awful VacuumYour life had left behind—I worried Nature with my WheelsWhen Hers had ceased to run—When she had put away Her WorkMy own had just begun.I strove to weary Brain and Bone—To harass to fatigueThe glittering Retinue of nerves—Vitality to clogTo some dull comfort Those obtainWho put a Head awayThey…

That passed the mouldering Pier—Just as the Granite Crumb let go—Our Savior, by a Hair—A second more, had dropped too deepFor Fisherman to plumb—The very profile of the ThoughtPuts Recollection numb—The possibility—to passWithout a Moment’s Bell—Into Conjecture’s presence—Is like a Face of Steel—That suddenly looks into oursWith a metallic grin—The Cordiality of Death—Who drills his…

And dancing softly to HimselfHis Yarn of Pearl–unwinds–He plies from Nought to Nought–In unsubstantial Trade–Supplants our Tapestries with His–In half the period–An Hour to rear supremeHis Continents of Light–Then dangle from the Housewife’s Broom–His Boundaries–forgot–