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Till some odd afternoonThe Alps neglect their CurtainsAnd we look farther on!Italy stands the other side!While like a guard between —The solemn Alps —The siren AlpsForever intervene!

In which His Face is set—All Latitudes exist for HisSufficient Continent—The Light His Action, and the DarkThe Leisure of His Will—In Him Existence serve or setA Force illegible.

If Love be just beyond—To wait Eternity—is short—If Love reward the end—

Lest that should conquer me.I haven’t quite the strength nowTo break it to the Bee—I will not name it in the streetFor shops would stare at me—That one so shy—so ignorantShould have the face to die.The hillsides must not know it—Where I have rambled so—Nor tell the loving forestsThe day that I shall go—Nor lisp…

Too stiff to bended be,To joint this Agate were a work –Outstaring Masonry –How went the Agile Kernel outContusion of the HuskNor Rip, nor wrinkle indicateBut just an Asterisk.

Since I was wed—to Him—A modesty befits the soulThat bears another’s—name—A doubt—if it be fair—indeed—To wear that perfect—pearl—The Man—upon the Woman—binds—To clasp her soul—for all—A prayer, that it more angel—prove—A whiter Gift—within—To that munificence, that chose—So unadorned—a Queen—A Gratitude—that such be true—It had esteemed the Dream—Too beautiful—for Shape to prove—Or posture—to redeem!