859

At Morning, in a Truffled HutIt stop opon a SpotAs if it tarried alwaysAnd yet it’s whole CareerIs shorter than a Snake’s Delay –And fleeter than a Tare –‘Tis Vegetation’s Juggler –The Germ of Alibi –Doth like a Bubble antedateAnd like a Bubble, hie –I feel as if the Grass was pleasedTo have it intermit…

It would hurt us—were we awake—But since it is playing—kill us,And we are playing—shriek—What harm? Men die—externally—It is a truth—of Blood—But we—are dying in Drama—And Drama—is never dead—Cautious—We jar each other—And either—open the eyes—Lest the Phantasm—prove the Mistake—And the livid SurpriseCool us to Shafts of Granite—With just an Age—and Name—And perhaps a phrase in Egyptian—It’s…

But I was not a ‘Diver’—Her brow is fit for thronesBut I have not a crest.Her heart is fit for home—I—a Sparrow—build thereSweet of twigs and twineMy perennial nest.

He had not on a Crown indeed,A little Palmleaf Hat was all,And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!But sure I am he Ermine woreBeneath his faded Jacket’s blue—And sure I am, the crest he boreWithin that Jacket’s pocket too!For ’twas too stately for an Earl—A Marquis would not go so grand!‘Twas possibly a Czar petite—A Pope,…

Of such a little Dog am IReminded by a BoyWho gambols all the living DayWithout an earthly causeBecause he is a little BoyI honestly suppose –The Cat that in the Corner dwellsHer martial Day forgotThe Mouse but a Tradition nowOf her desireless LotAnother class remind meWho neither please nor playBut not to make a ‘bit…

At last, the lamps upon thy sideThe rest of Life to see!Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!Past Sunrise!Ah, What leagues there wereBetween our feet, and Day!