When Skill entreated it—the last—
And when so newly dead—
I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh—
The lips had placed as with a ‘Please’
Toward Eternity—
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She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
Oh, housewife in the evening west,Come back, and dust the pond!You dropped a purple ravelling in,You dropped an amber thread;And now you’ve littered all the EastWith duds of emerald!And still she plies her spotted brooms,And still the aprons fly,Till brooms fade softly into stars —And then I come away.
30
And night is coming down!Will no one guide a little boatUnto the nearest town?So Sailors say—on yesterday—Just as the dusk was brownOne little boat gave up its strifeAnd gurgled down and down.So angels say—on yesterday—Just as the dawn was redOne little boat—o’erspent with gales—Retrimmed its masts—redecked its sails—And shot—exultant on!
Two butterflies went out at noon
Then stepped straight through the firmamentAnd rested on a beam;And then together bore awayUpon a shining sea,–Though never yet, in any portTheir coming mentioned be.If spoken by the distant bird,If met in ether seaBy frigate or by merchantman,Report was not to me.
442
It tried—to be a Rose—And failed—and all the Summer laughed—But just before the SnowsThere rose a Purple Creature—That ravished all the Hill—And Summer hid her Forehead—And Mockery—was still—The Frosts were her condition—The Tyrian would not comeUntil the North—invoke it—Creator—Shall I—bloom?
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At last, the lamps upon thy sideThe rest of Life to see!Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!Past Sunrise!Ah, What leagues there wereBetween our feet, and Day!
770
To Those who knowThe Stimulus there isIn Danger—Other impetusIs numb—and Vitalless—As ’twere a Spur—upon the Soul—A Fear will urge it whereTo go without the Sceptre’s aidWere Challenging Despair.