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And lives can bear it!Limit—how deep a bleeding go!So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—Deal with the soulAs with Algebra!Tell it the Ages—to a cypher—And it will ache—contented—on—Sing&mdas h;at its pain—as any Workman—Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

By force of its Result—Affliction is inferredBy subsequent effect—If when the sun reveal,The Garden keep the Gash—If as the Days resumeThe wilted countenanceCannot correct the creaseOr counteract the stain—Presumption is VitalityWas somewhere put in twain.

So I keep bringing These—Just as the Night keeps fetching StarsTo our familiar eyes—Maybe, we shouldn’t mind them—Unless they didn’t come—Then—maybe, it would puzzle usTo find our way Home—

Is tenderest, I think—Because ’tis unsustainedBy stint—Rewarded Work—Has impetus of Gain—And impetus of Goal—There is no Diligence like thatThat knows not an Until—

Dice—to the Maid—Morning means just Risk—to the Lover—Just revelation—to the Beloved—Epicures—date a Breakfast—by it—Brides—an Apocalypse—Worlds—a Flood—Faint-going Lives—Their Lapse from Sighing—Faith—The Experiment of Our Lord

Into the Darkness dips away—Half Her Complexion of the Sun—Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—Rall ies Her Glow, like a dying Friend—Teasing with glittering Amend—Only to aggravate the DarkThrough an expiring—perfect—look—