‘Would’st Climb,’ I said?
She said—’Not so’—
‘With me—’ I said—With me?
I showed her Secrets—Morning’s Nest—
The Rope the Nights were put across—
And now—’Would’st have me for a Guest?’
She could not find her Yes—
And then, I brake my life—And Lo,
A Light, for her, did solemn glow,
The larger, as her face withdrew—
And could she, further, ‘No’?
Is there such a thing as ‘Day’?Could I see it from the mountainsIf I were as tall as they?Has it feet like Water lilies?Has it feathers like a Bird?Is it brought from famous countriesOf which I have never heard?Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!Oh some Wise Men from the skies!Please to tell a little PilgrimWhere…
Leaping like Leopards to the SkyThen at the feet of the old HorizonLaying her spotted Face to dieStooping as low as the Otter’s WindowTouching the Roof and tinting the BarnKissing her Bonnet to the MeadowAnd the Juggler of Day is gone
Too bright for our infirm delightThe truth’s superb surprise;As lightning to the children easedWith explanation kind,The truth must dazzle graduallyOr every man be blind.
The day was warm, and winds were prosy—I said ”Twill keep’—I woke—and chid my honest fingers,The Gem was gone—And now, an Amethyst remembranceIs all I own—
Menagerie to meMy neighbor be.Fair play–Both went to see.
With a Bobolink for a Chorister —And an Orchard, for a Dome —Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice —I just wear my Wings —And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,Our little Sexton — sings.God preaches, a noted Clergyman —And the sermon is never long,So instead of getting to Heaven, at least —I’m going, all…
