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Behind this mortal boneThere knits a bolder oneYou cannot prick with saw,Nor rend with scymitar.Two bodies therefore be;Bind one, and one will flee.The eagle of his nestNo easier divestAnd gain the sky,Than mayest thou,Except thyself may beThine enemy;Captivity is consciousness,So’s liberty.

I simulate the breath so well,That one, to be quite sureThe lungs are stirless, must descendAmong the cunning cells,And touch the pantomime himself.How cool the bellows feels!

Not—I—the Earl—I—feared the Sea—too muchUnsanctified—to touch—Praying that I might beWorthy—the Destiny—The Swarthy fellow swam—And bore my Jewel—Home—Home to the Hut! What lotHad I—the Jewel—got—Borne on a Dusky Breasty—I had not deemed a VestOf Amber—fit—The Negro never knewI—wooed it—too—To gain, or be undone—Alike to Him—One—

Is but a symbol of the Place—And when again, at Dawn,A mighty look runs round the WorldAnd settles in the Hills—An Awe if it should be like thatUpon the Ignorance steals—The Orchard, when the Sun is on—The Triumph of the BirdsWhen they together Victory make—Some Carnivals of Clouds—The Rapture of a finished Day—Returning to the…

I have heard but one—Low as the laughter of the Cricket,Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,When the Tide’s a’ lull—Saying itself in new infection—Like a Whippoorwill—Breaking in bright OrthographyOn my simple sleep—Thundering its Prospective—Till I stir, and weep—Not for the Sorrow, done me—But the push of Joy—Say it again, Saxton!Hush—Only to me!

Through Faith—my Hazel EyeHas periods of shutting—But, No lid has Memory—For frequent, all my sense obscuredI equally beholdAs someone held a light untoThe Features so beloved—-And I arise—and in my Dream—Do Thee distinguished Grace—Till jealous Daylight interrupt—And mar thy perfectness—