So differ Life and Death
In positive Prospective—
The Foot upon the Earth
At Distance, and Achievement, strains,
The Foot upon the Grave
Makes effort at conclusion
Assisted faint of Love.
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To Mr. So and So,The web of live woven—So martyrs albums show!
876
Enclosed ’twas not of RailA Consciousness its Acre, andIt held a Human Soul.Entombed by whom, for what offenceIf Home or Foreign born—Had I the curiosity‘Twere not appeased of menTill Resurrection, I must guessDenied the small desireA Rose upon its Ridge to sowOr take away a Briar.
314
Sometimes—scalps a Tree—Her Green People recollect itWhen they do not die—Fainter Leaves—to Further Seasons—Dumbly testify—We—who have the Souls—Die oftener—Not so vitally—
I went to heaven,–
Lit with a ruby,Lathed with down.Stiller than the fieldsAt the full dew,Beautiful as picturesNo man drew.People like the moth,Of mechlin, frames,Duties of gossamer,And eider names.Almost contentedI could be‘Mong such uniqueSociety.
732
The Playthings of Her LifeTo take the honorable WorkOf Woman, and of Wife—If ought She missed in Her new Day,Of Amplitude, or Awe—Or first Prospective—Or the GoldIn using, wear away,It lay unmentioned—as the SeaDevelop Pearl, and Weed,But only to Himself—be knownThe Fathoms they abide—
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Because I grow—where Robins do—But, were I Cuckoo born—I’d swear by him—The ode familiar—rules the Noon—The Buttercup’s, my Whim for Bloom—Because, we’re Orchard sprung—But, were I Britain born,I’d Daisies spurn—None but the Nut—October fit—Because, through dropping it,The Seasons flit—I’m taught—Without the Snow’s TableauWinter, were lie—to me—Because I see—New Englandly—The Queen, discerns like me—Provincially—