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Her Cargo—is of Dew—And still—my Heart—my Eye outweighs—East India—for you!

A whip, so small you could not see it,I’ve knownTo lash the magic creatureTill it fell,Yet that whip’s name too nobleThen to tell.Magnanimous of birdBy boy descried,To sing unto the stoneOf which it died.Next: The Only News I know

A Witchcraft—yieldeth me—If any ask me why—‘Twere easier to die—Than tell—The Red upon the HillTaketh away my will—If anybody sneer—Take care—for God is here—That’s all.The Breaking of the DayAddeth to my Degree—If any ask me how—Artist—who drew me so—Must tell!

Be it but a PlayOr a Glee among the GarretOr a HolidayOr a leaving Home, or later,Parting with a WorldWe have understood for betterStill to be explained.

The loss of an Estate—Because Estates can beReplenished—faith cannot—Inherited with Life—Belief—but once—can be—Annihilate a single clause—And Being’s—Beggary—

Is when the Cars have come—And we are waiting for the Coach—It seems as though the TimeIndignant—that the Joy was come—Did block the Gilded Hands—And would not let the Seconds by—But slowest instant—ends—The Pendulum begins to count—Like little Scholars—loud—The steps grow thicker—in the Hall—The Heart begins to crowd—Then I—my timid service done—Tho’ service ’twas, of…