Ample make this bed.

How the Hemlocks burn—How the Dun Brake is draped in CinderBy the Wizard Sun—How the old Steeples hand the ScarletTill the Ball is full—Have I the lip of the FlamingoThat I dare to tell?Then, how the Fire ebbs like Billows—Touching all the GrassWith a departing—Sapphire—feature—As a Duchess passed—How a small Dusk crawls on the VillageTill…

Affection doesn’t knowHow many leagues of nowhereLie between them now.Yesterday, undistinguished!Eminent TodayFor our mutual hone, Immortality!

Yet I—for it—would pay—My Soul’s entire income—In ceaseless—salary—One Pearl—to me—so signal—That I would instant dive—Although—I knew—to take it—Would cost me—just a life!The Sea is full—I know it!That—does not blur my Gem!It burns—distinct from all the row—Intact—in Diadem!The life is thick—I know it!Yet—not so dense a crowd—But Monarchs—are perceptible—Far down the dustiest Road!

What care the Dead for Day?‘Tis late your Sunrise vex their face—And Purple Ribaldry—of MorningPour as blank on themAs on the Tier of WallThe Mason builded, yesterday,And equally as cool—What care the Dead for Summer?The Solstice had no SunCould waste the Snow before their Gate—And knew One Bird a Tune—Could thrill their Mortised EarOf all…

A Presence of Departed Acts –At window – and at Door –Its Past – set down before the SoulAnd lighted with a Match –Perusal – to facilitate –And help Belief to stretch –Remorse is cureless – the DiseaseNot even God – can heal –For ’tis His institution – andThe Adequate of Hell –

And stop to feed itself at tanks;And then, prodigious, stepAround a pile of mountains,And, supercilious, peerIn shanties by the sides of roads;And then a quarry pareTo fit its sides, and crawl between,Complaining all the whileIn horrid, hooting stanza;Then chase itself down hillAnd neigh like Boanerges;Then, punctual as a star,Stop–docile and omnipotent–At its own stable door.