Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action—
Maintain—
The Sun—upon a Morning meets them—
The Wind—
No nearer Neighbor—have they—
But God—
The Acre gives them—Place—
They—Him—Attention of Passer by—
Of Shadow, or of Squirrel, haply—
Or Boy—
What Deed is Theirs unto the General Nature—
What Plan
They severally—retard—or further—
Unknown—
Not want of friend occasions itOr circumstances of LotBut nature, sometimes, sometimes thoughtAnd whoso it befallIs richer than could be revealedBy mortal numeral
By just such a hazardHundreds have lost indeed—But tens have won an all—Angel’s breathless ballotLingers to record thee—Imps in eager CaucusRaffle for my Soul!
And later—when we die—A little Water supplicate—Of fingers going by—It intimates the finer want—Whose adequate supplyIs that Great Water in the West—Termed Immortality—
And is held low to freezing lips—Too rapt with frostTo take it—How sweet it would have tasted—Just a Drop—Was God so economical?His Table’s spread too high for Us—Unless We dine on tiptoe—Crumbs—fit such little mouths—Cherries—suit Robbins—The Eagle’s Golden Breakfast strangles—Them—God keep His Oath to Sparrows—Who of little Love—know how to starve—
Instead I’ll say of GemIn His long Absence wornA Costlier oneBut every Tear I boreWere He to count them o’erHis own would fall so moreI’ll mis sum them.
Sent various—scattered ways—We parted as the Central FlintWere cloven with an Adze—Subsisting on the Light We boreBefore We felt the Dark—A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—But for that single Spark.
