Proud of my night, since thou, with moons, dos’t shake it.
Not to partake thy passion, -my humility
Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene
Thou can’st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
Similar Posts
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side—
He offers His Berry, just the sameTo Partridge—and to Boy—He sometimes holds upon the Fence—Or struggles to a Tree—Or clasps a Rock, with both His Hands—But not for Sympathy—We—tell a Hurt—to cool it—This Mourner—to the SkyA little further reaches—instead—Brave Black Berry—
I held a Jewel in my fingers—
The day was warm, and winds were prosy—I said ”Twill keep’—I woke—and chid my honest fingers,The Gem was gone—And now, an Amethyst remembranceIs all I own—
604
Far ends of tired Days—It half endears the Abstinence—And Pain—is missed—in Praise—As Flavors—cheer Retarded GuestsWith Banquettings to be—So Spices—stimulate the timeTill my small Library—It may be Wilderness—without—Far feet of failing Men—But Holiday—excludes the night—And it is Bells—within—I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf—Their Countenances KidEnamor—in Prospective—And satisfy—obtained—
It was not death, for I stood up,
It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,–Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all;The figures I have seenSet orderly, for burial,Reminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted…
As subtle as tomorrow
A warrant, a conviction,Yet but a name.
A bird came down the walk:
He bit an angle-worm in halvesAnd ate the fellow, raw.And then he drank a dewFrom a convenient grass,And then hopped sidewise to the wallTo let a beetle pass.He glanced with rapid eyesThat hurried all abroad,-They looked like frightened beads, I thought;He stirred his velvet headLike one in danger; cautious,I offered him a crumb,And he unrolled…