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A full, and perfect time—The Summer closed upon itselfIn Consummated Bloom—The Corn, her furthest kernel filledBefore the coming Flail—When These—leaned unto Perfectness—Through Haze of Burial—

And then—He closes up—Then stands upon the BonnetOf Any Buttercup—And then He runs againstAnd oversets a Rose—And then does Nothing—Then away upon a Jib—He goes—And dangles like a MoteSuspended in the Noon—Uncertain—to return Below—Or settle in the Moon—What come of Him—at Night—The privilege to sayBe limited by Ignorance—What come of Him—That Day—The Frost—possess the World—In…

Eclipse—at Midnight—It was dark—before—Sunset—at Easter—Blindness—on the Dawn—Faint Star of Bethlehem—Gone down!Would but some God—inform Him—Or it be too late!Say—that the pulse just lisps—The Chariots wait—Say—that a little life—for His—Is leaking—red—His little Spaniel—tell Him!Will He heed?

That such a day, permitted so,I groped upon his breast—It was a boundless place to meAnd silenced, as the awful seaPuts minor streams to rest.And now, I’m different from before,As if I breathed superior air—Or brushed a Royal Gown—My feet, too, that had wandered so—My Gypsy face—transfigured now—To tenderer Renown—Into this Port, if I might…

Posterior—to Death—Initial of Creation, andThe Exponent of Earth—

When a Lover is an OwnerDifferent is he –What he begged is then the Beggar –Oh disparity –Bread of Heaven resents bestowalLike an obloquy –