843

The Luxury ‘twould beTo look at Thee a single timeAn Epicure of MeIn whatsoever Presence makesTill for a further FoodI scarcely recollect to starveSo first am I supplied—The Luxury to meditateThe Luxury it wasTo banguet on thy CountenanceA Sumptuousness bestowsOn plainer Days, whose Table farAs Certainty can seeIs laden with a single CrumbThe Consciousness of…

I heard a Woman say‘Poor Child’—and something in her voiceConvicted me—of me—So long I fainted, to myselfIt seemed the common way,And Health, and Laughter, Curious things—To look at, like a Toy—To sometimes hear ‘Rich people’ buyAnd see the Parcel rolled—And carried, I supposed—to Heaven,For children, made of Gold—But not to touch, or wish for,Or think…

The Summer lapsed away—Too imperceptible at lastTo seem like Perfidy—A Quietness distilledAs Twilight long begun,Or Nature spending with herselfSequestered Afternoon—The Dusk drew earlier in—The Morning foreign shone—A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,As Guest, that would be gone—And thus, without a WingOr service of a KeelOur Summer made her light escapeInto the Beautiful.

Before the skaters go,Or any check at nightfallIs tarnished by the snow—Before the fields have finished,Before the Christmas tree,Wonder upon wonderWill arrive to me!What we touch the hems ofOn a summer’s day—What is only walkingJust a bridge away—That which sings so—speaks so—When there’s no one here—Will the frock I wept inAnswer me to wear?

My Best—was gone to sleep—And Morn a new politeness took—And failed to wake them up—But called the others—clear—And passed their Curtains by—Sweet Morning—when I oversleep—Knock—Recollect—to Me—I looked at Sunrise—Once—And then I looked at Them—And wishfulness in me arose—For Circumstance the same—‘Twas such an Ample Peace—It could not hold a Sigh—‘Twas Sabbath—with the Bells divorced—‘Twas Sunset—all…

Remembered but by me.I touched her Cradle mute—She recognized the foot—Put on her carmine suitAnd see!