It cannot be again—
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown Her furthest Stone—
The Maimed may pause, and breathe,
And glance securely round—
The Deer attracts no further
Than it resists—the Hound—
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The dying need but little, dear,–
A flower’s unobtrusive faceTo punctuate the wall,A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,And certainly that oneNo color in the rainbowPerceives when you are gone.
972
Incomplete—to Eye—But to Faith—a RevolutionIn Locality—Unto Us—the Suns extinguish—To our Opposite—New Horizons—they embellish—Fronting Us—with Night.
46
I was not called—Death did not notice me.I bring my Rose.I plight again,By every sainted Bee—By Daisy called from hillside—by Bobolink from lane.Blossom and I—Her oath, and mine—Will surely come again.
The Grass so little has to do –
With only Butterflies to broodAnd Bees to entertain –And stir all day to pretty TunesThe Breezes fetch along –And hold the Sunshine in its lapAnd bow to everything –And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –And make itself so fineA Duchess were too commonFor such a noticing –And even when it dies – to…
The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.
Like the June beeBefore the school-boyInvites the race;Stoops to an easy cloverDips–evades–teases–deploys;Then to the royal cloudsLifts his light pinnaceHeedless of the boyStaring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.Homesick for steadfast honey,Ah! the bee flies notThat brews that rare variety.
643
He—could suffice for Me—Yet Hesitating Fractions—BothSurveyed Infinity—‘Would I be Whole’ He sudden broached—My syllable rebelled—‘Twas face to face with Nature—forced—‘Twas face to face with God—Withdrew the Sun—to Other Wests—Withdrew the furthest StarBefore Decision—stooped to speech—And then—be audiblerThe Answer of the Sea untoThe Motion of the Moon—Herself adjust Her Tides—unto—Could I—do else—with Mine?