I never hear the word ‘escape’

Like hindered rubies, or the light,A sudden musket spills.The purple could not keep the east.The sunrise shook from fold.Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,The lady just unrolled.The happy winds their timbrels took;The birds in docile rows,Arranged themselves around their prince.(The wind is prince of those.)The orchard sparkled like a Jew,—How mighty ’twas to stay,A…

Is but a symbol of the Place—And when again, at Dawn,A mighty look runs round the WorldAnd settles in the Hills—An Awe if it should be like thatUpon the Ignorance steals—The Orchard, when the Sun is on—The Triumph of the BirdsWhen they together Victory make—Some Carnivals of Clouds—The Rapture of a finished Day—Returning to the…

A smile too few—a word too muchAnd far from Heaven as the Rest—The Soul so close on Paradise—What if the Bird from journey far—Confused by Sweets—as Mortals—are—Forget the secret of His wingAnd perish—but a Bough between—Oh, Groping feet—Oh Phantom Queen!

What care the Dead for Day?‘Tis late your Sunrise vex their face—And Purple Ribaldry—of MorningPour as blank on themAs on the Tier of WallThe Mason builded, yesterday,And equally as cool—What care the Dead for Summer?The Solstice had no SunCould waste the Snow before their Gate—And knew One Bird a Tune—Could thrill their Mortised EarOf all…

And not a song pervades his lips,Or none perceptible.His small umbrella, quaintly halved,Describing in the airAn arc alike inscrutable,—Elate philosopher!Deputed from what firmamentOf what astute abode,Empowered with what malevolenceAuspiciously withheld.To his adroit CreatorAscribe no less the praise;Beneficent, believe me,His eccentricities.

Had swept the Winter Street –The House was hookedThe Sun sent outFaint Deputies of Heat –Where rode the BirdThe Silence tiedHis ample – plodding SteedThe Apple in the Cellar snugWas all the one that played.