Between My Country—and the Others—

I envy Spokes of WheelsOf Chariots, that Him convey—I envy Crooked HillsThat gaze upon His journey—How easy All can seeWhat is forbidden utterlyAs Heaven—unto me!I envy Nests of Sparrows—That dot His distant Eaves—The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane—The happy—happy Leaves—That just abroad His WindowHave Summer’s leave to play—The Ear Rings of PizarroCould not obtain for…

Are ignorant of its ConcernAs if it were not born.Through all their former Places, weLike Individuals goWho something lost, the seeking forIs all that’s left them, now—

But Silence is Infinity.Himself have not a face.

When folded in perpetual seamThe Wrinkled Maker lieInfection in the sentence breedsWe may inhale DespairAt distances of CenturiesFrom the Malaria –

Because—The Wind does not require the GrassTo answer—Wherefore when He passShe cannot keep Her place.Because He knows—andDo not You—And We know not—Enough for UsThe Wisdom it be so—The Lightning—never asked an EyeWherefore it shut—when He was by—Because He knows it cannot speak—And reasons not contained——Of Talk—There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—Because He’s Sunrise—and I…

They put me in the Closet —Because they liked me ‘still’ —Still! Could themself have peeped —And seen my Brain — go round —They might as wise have lodged a BirdFor Treason — in the Pound —Himself has but to willAnd easy as a StarAbolish his Captivity —And laugh — No more have I —