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There is in Fever or Event—And now the Chance had come—The instant holding in its clawThe privilege to liveOr warrant to report the SoulThe other side the Grave.The Muscles grappled as with leadsThat would not let the Will—The Spirit shook the Adamant—But could not make it feel.The Second poised—debated—shot—Another had begun—And simultaneously, a SoulEscaped the…

Why, God, would be contentWith but a fraction of the Life—Poured thee, without a stint—The whole of me—forever—What more the Woman can,Say quick, that I may dower theeWith last Delight I own!It cannot be my Spirit—For that was thine, before—I ceded all of Dust I knew—What Opulence the moreHad I—a freckled Maiden,Whose farthest of Degree,Was—that…

I don’t believe a peevish BirdSo whimpered for the Spring –I taught my Heart a hundred timesPrecisely what to say –Provoking Lover, when you cameIts Treatise flew awayTo hide my strategy too lateTo wiser be too soon –For miseries so halcyonThe happiness atone –

Wearing the Sod Gown—Bonnet of Everlasting Laces—Brooch—frozen on—Horses of Blonde—and Coach of Silver—Baggage a strapped Pearl—Journey of Down—and Whip of Diamond—Riding to meet the Earl—

Are there two?I shouldn’t like to comeFor fear of joggling Him!If I could shut him upIn a Coffee Cup,Or tie him to a pinTill I got in—Or make him fastTo ‘Toby’s’ fist—Hist! Whist! I’d come!

Lips unused to thee.Bashful, sip thy jasmines,As the fainting bee,Reaching late his flower,Round her chamber hums,Counts his nectars -alights,And is lost in balms!