No more Vacation!
Term of Light this Day begun!
Failless as the fair rotation
Of the Seasons and the Sun.
Old the Grace, but new the Subjects—
Old, indeed, the East,
Yet upon His Purple Programme
Every Dawn, is first.
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A little road not made of man,
Accessible to thill of bee,Or cart of butterfly.If town it have, beyond itself,‘T is that I cannot say;I only sigh,–no vehicleBears me along that way.
323
And in my wondering handA Stranger pressed a Kingdom,And I, bewildered, stand—As if I asked the OrientHad it for me a Morn—And it should lift its purple Dikes,And shatter me with Dawn!
798
Debated—Rose again—This time—beyond the estimateOf Envy, or of Men—And now, among Circumference—Her steady Boat be seen—At home—among the Billows—AsThe Bough where she was born—
An everywhere of silver,
To keep it from effacingThe track called land.
628
‘ ‘Twas Sunset’—Some one said—I only saw a Sapphire Farm—And just a Single Herd—Of Opal Cattle—feeding farUpon so vain a Hill—As even while I looked—dissolved—Nor Cattle were—nor Soil—But in their stead—a Sea—displayed—And Ships—of such a sizeAs Crew of Mountains—could afford—And Decks—to seat the skies—This—too—the Showman rubbed away—And when I looked again—Nor Farm—nor Opal Herd—was there—Nor…
523
Every time—for Two—So that the Sum be never hinderedThrough Decay of You—Say if I erred? Accuse my Farthings—Blame the little HandHappy it be for You—a Beggar’s—Seeking More—to spend—Just to be Rich—to waste my GuineasOn so Best a Heart—Just to be Poor—for Barefoot VisionYou—Sweet—Shut me out—