When I forget to tease—
They’ll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said ‘Please.’
Then They will hasten to the Door
To call the little Girl
Who cannot thank Them for the Ice
That filled the lisping full.
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Combined without a seamLike Raiment of a Dream –Who spun the Auburn Cloth?Computed how the girth?The Chestnut aged growsIn those primeval Clothes –We know that we are wise –Accomplished in Surprise –Yet by this Countryman –This nature – how undone!
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Nor can you tell me—Saints, with ravished slate and pencilSolve our April Day!Sweeter than a vanished frolicFrom a vanished green!Swifter than the hoofs of HorsemenRound a Ledge of dream!Modest, let us walk among itWith our faces veiled—As they say polite ArchangelsDo in meeting God!Not for me—to prate about it!Not for you—to sayTo some fashionable Lady‘Charming…
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On the Hill—Their Everlasting fashions—set—And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
‘Heavenly Father’ – take to thee
Fashioned by thy candid HandIn a moment contraband –Though to trust us – seems to usMore respectful – ‘We are Dust’ –We apologize to theeFor thine own Duplicity –
I held a Jewel in my fingers—
The day was warm, and winds were prosy—I said ”Twill keep’—I woke—and chid my honest fingers,The Gem was gone—And now, an Amethyst remembranceIs all I own—
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So I get home – ’twill compensate—Better will be the EcstasyThat they have done expecting me—When Night—descending—dumb—and dark—They hear my unexpected knock—Transporting must the moment be—Brewed from decades of Agony!To think just how the fire will burn—Just how long-cheated eyes will turn—To wonder what myself will say,And what itself, will say to me—Beguiles the Centuries…