The Ruin was within
Oh cunning wreck that told no tale
And let no Witness in
The mind was built for mighty Freight
For dread occasion planned
How often foundering at Sea
Ostensibly, on Land
A not admitting of the wound
Until it grew so wide
That all my Life had entered it
And there were troughs beside
A closing of the simple lid
That opened to the sun
Until the tender Carpenter
Perpetual nail it down –
Though in another tree—She looks down just as oftenAnd just as tenderlyAs when her little mortal nestWith cunning care she wove—If either of her ‘sparrows fall,’She ‘notices,’ above.
Yet now I know how the heather looks,And what a wave must be.I never spoke with God,Nor visited in Heaven;Yet certain am I of the spotAs if the chart were given.
Posterior—to Death—Initial of Creation, andThe Exponent of Earth—
And all my House aglowDid fan and rock, with sudden light—‘Twas Sunrise—’twas the Sky—Impanelled from no Summer brief—With limit of Decay—‘Twas Noon—without the News of Night—Nay, Nature, it was Day—
The Clamoring for Gold—It kept me from a Thief, I think,For often, overboldWith Want, and Opportunity—I could have done a SinAnd been Myself that easy ThingAn independent Man—But often as my lot displaysToo hungry to be borneI deem Myself what I would be—And novel ComfortingMy Poverty and I derive—We question if the Man—Who own—Esteem the…
I’d bring them every flower that growsFrom Amherst to Cashmere!I would not stop for night, or storm—Or frost, or death, or anyone—My business were so dear!If they would linger for a BirdMy Tambourin were soonest heardAmong the April Woods!Unwearied, all the summer long,Only to break in wilder songWhen Winter shook the boughs!What if they hear…
