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Where Sunset hence must beFor treason not of His, but Life’s,Gone Westerly, Today—The Sunset stopped on CottagesWhere Morning just begun—What difference, after all, Thou mak’stThou supercilious Sun?

Occur to Her—alone—When friend—and Earth’s occasionHave infinite withdrawn—Or She—Herself—ascendedTo too remote a HeightFor lower RecognitionThan Her Omnipotent—This Mortal AbolitionIs seldom—but as fairAs Apparition—subjectTo Autocratic Air—Eternity’s disclosureTo favorites—a few—Of the Colossal substanceOf Immortality

The nuts are getting brown—The berry’s cheek is plumper—The Rose is out of town.The Maple wears a gayer scarf—The field a scarlet gown—Lest I should be old fashionedI’ll put a trinket on.

A Threadless WayI pushed Mechanic feet—To stop—or perish—or advance—Alike indifferent—If end I gainedIt ends beyondIndefinite disclosed—I shut my eyes—and groped as well‘Twas lighter—to be Blind—

Poverty — be justifyingFor so foul a thingPossibly — but We — would ratherFrom Our Garret goWhite — Unto the White Creator —Than invest — Our Snow —Thought belong to Him who gave it —Then — to Him Who bearIts Corporeal illustration — SellThe Royal Air —In the Parcel — Be the MerchantOf the Heavenly…