An Antiquated Tree

And you should live—And time should gurgle on—And morn should beam—And noon should burn—As it has usual done—If Birds should build as earlyAnd Bees as bustling go—One might depart at optionFrom enterprise below!‘Tis sweet to know that stocks will standWhen we with Daisies lie—That Commerce will continue—And Trades as briskly fly—It makes the parting tranquilAnd…

A fundamental pauseDilapidation’s processesAre organized Decays.‘Tis first a Cobweb on the SoulA Cuticle of DustA Borer in the AxisAn Elemental Rust—Ruin is formal—Devil’s workConsecutive and slow—Fail in an instant, no man didSlipping—is Crash’s law.

Wearing the Sod Gown—Bonnet of Everlasting Laces—Brooch—frozen on—Horses of Blonde—and Coach of Silver—Baggage a strapped Pearl—Journey of Down—and Whip of Diamond—Riding to meet the Earl—

Has made the Toilette coolOf only Taste we cared to pleaseIs difficult, and still—That’s easier—than Braid the Hair—And make the Bodice gay—When eyes that fondled it are wrenchedBy Decalogues—away—

In any Forest stirredBut with itself did cold engageBeyond the Realm of Bird –A Wind that woke a lone DelightLike Separation’s SwellRestored in Arctic ConfidenceTo the Invisible –

And hasn’t any tax to payAnd hasn’t any HomeIs just as high as you and I,And higher, I believe,So soar away and never sighAnd that’s the way to grieve –