Yet confident they run
Am I, from symptoms that are past
And Series that are done—
I find my feet have further Goals—
I smile upon the Aims
That felt so ample—Yesterday—
Today’s—have vaster claims—
I do not doubt the self I was
Was competent to me—
But something awkward in the fit—
Proves that—outgrown—I see—
This, is the silent endBountiful colored, my Morning roseEarly and sere, its endNever Bud from a StemStepped with so gay a FootNever a Worm so confidentBored at so brave a Root
A hurry in the breath—An ecstasy of partingDenominated ‘Death’—An anguish at the mentionWhich when to patience grown,I’ve known permission givenTo rejoin its own.
Till we—are stouter—What they—renounced—Till we—are less afraid—How many times they—bore the faithful witness—Till we—are helped—As if a Kingdom—cared!Read then—of faith—That shone above the fagot—Clear strains of HymnThe River could not drown—Brave names of Men—And Celestial Women—Passed out—of RecordInto—Renown!
For—put them side by side—The one the other will containWith ease—and You—beside—The Brain is deeper than the sea—For—hold them—Blue to Blue—The one the other will absorb—As Sponges—Buckets—do—The Brain is just the weight of God—For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—And they will differ—if they do—As Syllable from Sound—
And sings the tune without the words—And never stops—at all—And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—And sore must be the storm—That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm—I’ve heard it in the chillest land—And on the strangest Sea—Yet, never, in Extremity,It asked a crumb—of Me.
But with a tinge of that—A Compound manner,As a SodEspoused a Violet,That chiefer to the SkiesThan to himself, allied,Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust,And half of Day, the Bride.
