847

So sick—to guess—So strong—to know—So brave—upon its little BedTo tell the very last They saidUnto Itself—and smile—And shake—For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake—But—the Instead—the Pinching fearThat Something—it did do—or dare—Offend the Vision—and it flee—And They no more remember me—Nor ever turn to tell me why—Oh, Master, This is Misery—

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!

It gains the Block—and now—it gains the Door—Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings—Enters—with a ‘You know Me—Sir’?Simple Salute—and certain Recognition—Bold—were it Enemy—Brief—were it friend—Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle—And carries one—out of it—to God—

I dare not eat it, though I starve,–My poignant luxuryTo own it, touch it, prove the featThat made the pellet mine,–Too happy in my sparrow chanceFor ampler coveting.It might be famine all around,I could not miss an ear,Such plenty smiles upon my board,My garner shows so fair.I wonder how the rich may feel,–An Indiaman–an Earl?I…

I could not find a privacyFrom Nature’s sentinels.In cave if I presumed to hide,The walls began to tell;Creation seemed a mighty crackTo make me visible.

Insert the Thing that caused it—Block it upWith Other—and ’twill yawn the more—You cannot solder an AbyssWith Air.