The Man who would possess
Must first present
Certificate
Of minted Holiness.
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The duties of the Wind are few,
Establish March, the Floods escort,And usher Liberty.The pleasures of the Wind are broad,To dwell Extent among,Remain, or wander,Speculate, or Forests entertain.The kinsmen of the Wind are PeaksAzof – the Equinox,Also with Bird and AsteroidA bowing intercourse.The limitations of the WindDo he exist, or die,Too wise he seems for Wakelessness,However, know not i.
Drowning is not so pitiful
Three times, ‘t is said, a sinking manComes up to face the skies,And then declines foreverTo that abhorred abodeWhere hope and he part company,—For he is grasped of God.The Maker’s cordial visage,However good to see,Is shunned, we must admit it,Like an adversity.
The brain within its groove
But let a splinter swerve,‘T were easier for youTo put the water backWhen floods have slit the hills,And scooped a turnpike for themselves,And blotted out the mills!
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Between a few, and me—With them would Harbor be—
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And like the Trees, look down—The smoke all cleared away from it—And Mirrors on the scene—Just laying light—no soul will winkExcept it have the flaw—The Sound ones, like the Hills—shall stand—No Lighting, scares away—The Perfect, nowhere be afraid—They bear their dauntless Heads,Where others, dare not go at Noon,Protected by their deeds—The Stars dare shine occasionallyUpon…
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And Violets are done—When Bumblebees in solemn flightHave passed beyond the Sun—The hand that paused to gatherUpon this Summer’s dayWill idle lie—in Auburn—Then take my flowers—pray!