Had swept the Winter Street –
The House was hooked
The Sun sent out
Faint Deputies of Heat –
Where rode the Bird
The Silence tied
His ample – plodding Steed
The Apple in the Cellar snug
Was all the one that played.
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127
‘Mansions’! Mansions must be warm!Mansions cannot let the tears in,Mansions must exclude the storm!‘Many Mansions,’ by ‘his Father,’I don’t know him; snugly built!Could the Children find the way there—Some, would even trudge tonight!
97
That gust and storm are by,Yet is she more convincingThan Philosophy.My flowers turn from Forums—Yet eloquent declareWhat Cato couldn’t prove meExcept the birds were here!
They say that ‘time assuages,’–
An actual suffering strengthens,As sinews do, with age.Time is a test of trouble,But not a remedy.If such it prove, it prove tooThere was no malady.
969
Fraud cannot presume—Faith is Constancy’s Result—And assumes—from Home—Cannot perish, though it failEvery second time—But defaced Vicariously—For Some Other Shame—
I like to see it lap the miles,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;And then, prodigious, stepAround a pile of mountains,And, supercilious, peerIn shanties by the sides of roads;And then a quarry pareTo fit its sides, and crawl between,Complaining all the whileIn horrid, hooting stanza;Then chase itself down hillAnd neigh like Boanerges;Then, punctual as a star,Stop–docile and omnipotent–At its own stable door.
980
This season of the year,And when a soul perceives itselfTo be an Emperor.