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Derives its Magnitude—‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, accordingAs is the Central Mood—The fine—unvarying AxisThat regulates the Wheel—Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuousAnd fling a dust—the while.The Inner—paints the Outer—The Brush without the Hand—Its Picture publishes—precise—As is the inner Brand—On fine—Arterial Canvas—A Cheek—perchance a Brow—The Star’s whole Secret—in the Lake—Eyes were not meant to know.

I asked to go abroad,And take the Sunshine in my hands,And see the things in Pod—A ‘blossom just when I went inTo take my Chance with pain—Uncertain if myself, or He,Should prove the strongest One.The Summer deepened, while we strove—She put some flowers away—And Redder cheeked Ones—in their stead—A fond—illusive way—To cheat Herself, it seemed…

I lost it in the sand—And tho’ the sum was simpleAnd pounds were in the land—Still, had it such a valueUnto my frugal eye—That when I could not find it—I sat me down to sigh.I had a crimson Robin—Who sang full many a dayBut when the woods were painted,He, too, did fly away—Time brought me…

Ceases to be a Secret—then—A Secret—kept—That—can appal but One—Better of it—continual be afraid—Than it—And Whom you told it to—beside—

Widths out of the Sun—And look—and shudder, and block your breath—And deem to be aloneIn such a place, what horror,How Goblin it would be—And fly, as ’twere pursuing you?Then Loneliness—looks so—Did you ever look in a Cannon’s face—Between whose Yellow eye—And yours—the Judgment intervened—The Question of ‘To die’—Extemporizing in your earAs cool as Satyr’s Drums—If…

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