Is tenderest, I think—
Because ’tis unsustained
By stint—Rewarded Work—
Has impetus of Gain—
And impetus of Goal—
There is no Diligence like that
That knows not an Until—
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A Tyrian light the village fills—A wider sunrise in the morn—A deeper twilight on the lawn—A print of a vermillion foot—A purple finger on the slope—A flippant fly upon the pane—A spider at his trade again—An added strut in Chanticleer—A flower expected everywhere—An axe shrill singing in the woods—Fern odors on untravelled roads—All this and…
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It swallows substance up—Then covers the Abyss with Trance—So Memory can stepAround—across—upon it—As one within a Swoon—Goes safely—where an open eye—Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
Across a barn or through a rutDebates if it will go.A narrow wind complains all dayHow some one treated him;Nature, like us, is sometimes caughtWithout her diadem.
963
An Agony procures—Affliction ranges Boundlessness—Vicinity to LawsContentment’s quiet Suburb—Affliction cannot stayIn Acres—Its LocationIs Illocality—
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But when the soul is in pain—The hearing him put his playthings upMakes work difficult—then—It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind—But Gimlets—among the nerve—Mangle daintier—terribler—Like a Panter in the Glove—
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Through which Men reachWhere Presence—is denied them.They fling their SpeechBy means of it—in God’s Ear—If then He hear—This sums the ApparatusComprised in Prayer—