Which soul were shy, which shyness might
A visible influence be, and roll
Through heaven and earth — ’twere thou, O light!
O rhapsody of the wraith of red,
O blush but yet in prophecy,
O sun-hint that hath overspread
Sky, marsh, my soul, and yonder sail.
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What heartache — ne’er a hill!
The drear sand-levels drain my spirit low.With one poor word they tell me all they know;Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain,Do drawl it o’er again and o’er again.They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name:Always the same, the same.Nature hath no surprise,No ambuscade of beauty ‘gainst mine eyesFrom brake or lurking dell…
For ever wave, for ever float and shine
Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine,A creeping rose, that clomb a height of dreadOut of the sea of Birth, all filled with dead,Up to the brilliant cloud of Death o’erhead.This vine bore many blossoms, which were years.Their petals, red with joy, or bleached by tears,Waved to and fro i’ the winds of…
Written for the ‘Martha Washington Court Journal’.
When windy shams and the rain-mocking sleetOf Trade have cased us in such icy rimeThat hearts are scarcely hot enough to beat,Thy fame, O Lady of the lofty eyes,Doth fall along the age, like as a laneOf Spring, in whose most generous boundariesFull many a frozen virtue warms again.To-day I saw the pale much-burdened formOf…
It was three slim does and a ten-tined buck in the bracken lay;
Awaft on a wind-shift, wavered and ranDown the hill-side and sifted along through the bracken and passed that way.Then Nan got a-tremble at nostril; she was the daintiest doe;In the print of her velvet flank on the velvet fernShe reared, and rounded her ears in turn.Then the buck leapt up, and his head as a…
Died of a cat, May, 1878.
Trillets of humor, — shrewdest whistle-wit, —Contralto cadences of grave desireSuch as from off the passionate Indian pyreDrift down through sandal-odored flames that splitAbout the slim young widow who doth sitAnd sing above, — midnights of tone entire, —Tissues of moonlight shot with songs of fire; —Bright drops of tune, from oceans infiniteOf melody, sipped…
Across the brook of Time man leaping goes
Fixed, memorable, midst broad shallow flowsOf neutrals, kill-times, sleeps, indifferencies.So twixt each morn and night rise salient heaps:Some cross with but a zigzag, jaded paceFrom meal to meal: some with convulsive leapsShake the green tussocks of malign disgrace:And some advance by system and deep artO’er vantages of wealth, place, learning, tact.But thou within thyself, dear…