Dawn—to the Teneriffe—
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
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As Beggars revel at a feastBy savory Fancy spread—As brooks in deserts babble sweetOn ear too far for the delight,Heaven beguiles the tired.As that same watcher, when the EastOpens the lid of AmethystAnd lets the morning go—That Beggar, when an honored Guest,Those thirsty lips to flagons pressed,Heaven to us, if true.
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That passed the mouldering Pier—Just as the Granite Crumb let go—Our Savior, by a Hair—A second more, had dropped too deepFor Fisherman to plumb—The very profile of the ThoughtPuts Recollection numb—The possibility—to passWithout a Moment’s Bell—Into Conjecture’s presence—Is like a Face of Steel—That suddenly looks into oursWith a metallic grin—The Cordiality of Death—Who drills his…
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Gamblers—recollecting whichToss their dice again!
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No other Art—would do—My Tactics missed a rudiment—Creator—Was it you?God grows above—so those who prayHorizons—must ascend—And so I stepped upon the NorthTo see this Curious Friend—His House was not—no sign had He—By Chimney—nor by DoorCould I infer his Residence—Vast Prairies of AirUnbroken by a Settler—Were all that I could see—Infinitude—Had’st Thou no FaceThat I might…
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Since I was wed—to Him—A modesty befits the soulThat bears another’s—name—A doubt—if it be fair—indeed—To wear that perfect—pearl—The Man—upon the Woman—binds—To clasp her soul—for all—A prayer, that it more angel—prove—A whiter Gift—within—To that munificence, that chose—So unadorned—a Queen—A Gratitude—that such be true—It had esteemed the Dream—Too beautiful—for Shape to prove—Or posture—to redeem!
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A Mountain—in my mind—More Mountains—then a Sea—More Seas—And thenA Desert—find—And My Horizon blocksWith steady—drifting—GrainsOf unconjectured quantity—As Asiatic Rains—Nor this—defeat my Pace—It hinder from the WestBut as an Enemy’s SaluteOne hurrying to Rest—What merit had the Goal—Except there interveneFaint Doubt—and far Competitor—To jeopardize the Gain?At last—the Grace in sight—I shout unto my feet—I offer them the…