A little Madness in the Spring

An unpretending timeMy Plane—and I, together wroughtBefore a Builder came—To measure our attainments—Had we the Art of BoardsSufficiently developed—He’d hire usAt Halves—My Tools took Human—Faces—The Bench, where we had toiled—Against the Man—persuaded—We—Temples build—I said—

Lightning—lets awayPower to perceive His ProcessWith Vitality.Maimed—was I—yet not by Venture—Stone of stolid Boy—Nor a Sportsman’s Peradventure—Who mine Enemy?Robbed—was I—intact to Bandit—All my Mansion torn—Sun—withdrawn to Recognition—Furthest shining—done—Yet was not the foe—of any—Not the smallest BirdIn the nearest Orchard dwellingBe of Me—afraid.Most—I love the Cause that slew Me.Often as I dieIts beloved RecognitionHolds a Sun…

Wert Thou a Bumble Bee—Since for the Queen, have I—Nought but Bouquet?

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.

But she must buy my shelterI asked Humility

And spotted it with tears—Upon his infant face was setThe Cicatrice of years—All crumpled was the cheekNo other kiss had knownThan flake of snow, divided withThe Redbreast of the Barn—If Mother—in the Grave—Or Father—on the Sea—Or Father in the Firmament—Or Brethren, had he—If Commonwealth below,Or Commonwealth aboveHave missed a Barefoot Citizen—I’ve ransomed it—alive—