Could mortal lip divine

Yet sanctifies the Mind—With fair association—Afar upon the WindA Bird to overhearDelight without a Cause—Arrestless as invisible—A matter of the Skies.

Consider it unto myselfNo spectacle in sightEscape – it is the BasketIn which the Heart is caughtWhen down some awful BattlementThe rest of Life is dropt –‘Tis not to sight the savior –It is to be the saved –And that is why I lay my HeadUpon this trusty word –

Was like the other Days—Until the Coronation came—And then—’twas Otherwise—As Carbon in the CoalAnd Carbon in the GemAre One—and yet the formerWere dull for Diadem—I rose, and all was plain—But when the Day declinedMyself and It, in MajestyWere equally—adorned—The Grace that I—was chose—To Me—surpassed the CrownThat was the Witness for the Grace—‘Twas even that ’twas…

Lit with a ruby,Lathed with down.Stiller than the fieldsAt the full dew,Beautiful as picturesNo man drew.People like the moth,Of mechlin, frames,Duties of gossamer,And eider names.Almost contentedI could be‘Mong such uniqueSociety.

How glittering they shone—And every One unbared a NerveOr wantoned with a Bone—She never deemed—she hurt—That—is not Steel’s Affair—A vulgar grimace in the Flesh—How ill the Creatures bear—To Ache is human—not polite—The Film upon the eyeMortality’s old Custom—Just locking up—to Die.

The trusting Woods.The unsuspecting TreesBrought out their Burs and mossesMy fantasy to please.I scanned their trinkets curious—I grasped—I bore away—What will the solemn Hemlock—What will the Oak tree say?