751

Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!They’d banish — you know!How dreary to be somebody!How public like a frogTo tell one’s name the livelong dayTo an admiring bog!

No other Art—would do—My Tactics missed a rudiment—Creator—Was it you?God grows above—so those who prayHorizons—must ascend—And so I stepped upon the NorthTo see this Curious Friend—His House was not—no sign had He—By Chimney—nor by DoorCould I infer his Residence—Vast Prairies of AirUnbroken by a Settler—Were all that I could see—Infinitude—Had’st Thou no FaceThat I might…

Whose table once aGuest but notThe second time is set.Whose crumbs the crows inspectAnd with ironic cawFlap past it to the Farmer’s Corn–Men eat of it and die.

The Seasons—fit—the same—The Mornings blossom into Noons—And split their Pods of Flame—Wild flowers—kindle in the Woods—The Brooks slam—all the Day—No Black bird bates his Banjo—For passing Calvary—Auto da Fe—and Judgment—Are nothing to the Bee—His separation from His Rose—To Him—sums Misery—

Confided are his projects pinkTo no precarious man.If nature will not tell the taleJehovah told to herCan human nature not surviveWithout a listener?Admonished by her buckled lipsLet every babbler beThe only secret people keepIs Immortality.

The Day that was Before—And Day that was Behind—were one—And now—’twas Night—was here—Slow—Night—that must be watched away—As Grains upon a shore—Too imperceptible to note—Till it be night—no more—