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Until there crept uponA Chill—like frost upon a Glass—Till all the scene—be gone.The Forehead copied Stone—The Fingers grew too coldTo ache—and like a Skater’s Brook—The busy eyes—congealed—It straightened—that was all—It crowded Cold to Cold—It multiplied indifference—As Pride were all it could—And even when with Cords—‘Twas lowered, like a Weight—It made no Signal, nor demurred,But dropped…

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.

Lo, what ‘Augustan’ yearsOur feet await!If springs from winter rise,Can the AnemonesBe reckoned up?If night stands fast—then noonTo gird us for the sun,What gaze!When from a thousand skiesOn our developed eyesNoons blaze!

It powders all the Wood.It fills with Alabaster WoolThe Wrinkles of the Road—It makes an Even FaceOf Mountain, and of Plain—Unbroken Forehead from the EastUnto the East again—It reaches to the Fence—It wraps it Rail by RailTill it is lost in Fleeces—It deals Celestial VailTo Stump, and Stack—and Stem—A Summer’s empty Room—Acres of Joints, where…

And then a Tract betweenSet Cypherless — to teach the EyeThe Value of its Ten —Until the peevish StudentAcquire the Quick of Skill —Then Numerals are dowered back —Adorning all the Rule —‘Tis mostly Slate and Pencil —And Darkness on the SchoolDistracts the Children’s fingers —Still the Eternal RuleRegards least Cypherer alikeWith Leader of the…

The loss had been to MeA Value—for the Greatness’ Sake—As Giants—gone away—Had I presumed to gainA Favor so remote—The failure but confirm the GraceIn further Infinite—‘Tis failure—not of Hope—But Confident Despair—Advancing on Celestial Lists—With faint—Terrestial power—‘Tis Honor—though I die—For That no Man obtainTill He be justified by Death—This—is the Second Gain—