Air has no Residence, no Neighbor,

And God, that he called his,Till, recently a rival ClaimDisturbed these amities.The property, my garden,Which having sown with care,He claims the pretty acre,And sends a Bailiff there.The station of the partiesForbids publicity,But Justice is sublimerThan arms, or pedigree.I’ll institute an ‘Action’—I’ll vindicate the law—Jove! Choose your counsel—I retain ‘Shaw’!

A Thing that can igniteCan go, itself, without a Fan—Upon the slowest Night—You cannot fold a Flood—And put it in a Drawer—Because the Winds would find it out—And tell your Cedar Floor—

Somewhere—in Silence—He has hid his rare lifeFrom our gross eyes.‘Tis an instant’s play.‘Tis a fond Ambush—Just to make BlissEarn her own surprise!But—should the playProve piercing earnest—Should the glee—glaze—In Death’s—stiff—stare—Wou ld not the funLook too expensive!Would not the jest—Have crawled too far!

A hurry in the breath—An ecstasy of partingDenominated ‘Death’—An anguish at the mentionWhich when to patience grown,I’ve known permission givenTo rejoin its own.

Daffodils a-blowHomesick curiosityTo the Souls that snow—Drift may block within itDeeper than without—Daffodil delight butHim it duplicate—

Then gave the East unto the WestAnd opening his mouthThe four Divisions of the EarthDid make as to devourWhile everything to corners slunkBehind the awful power –The Wind – unto his Chambers wentAnd nature ventured out –Her subjects scattered into placeHer systems ranged aboutAgain the smoke from Dwellings roseThe Day abroad was heard –How intimate,…