To mend each tattered Faith

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.

That sat it down to rest—Nor noticed that the Ebbing DayFlowed silver to the West—Nor noticed Night did soft descend—Nor Constellation burn—Intent upon the visionOf latitudes unknown.The angels—happening that wayThis dusty heart espied—Tenderly took it up from toilAnd carried it to God—There—sandals for the Barefoot—There—gathered from the gales—Do the blue havens by the handLead the…

As one encountered gentlefolkUpon a daily street,That we’ve immortal place,Though pyramids decay,And kingdoms, like the orchard,Flit russetly away.

That passed the mouldering Pier—Just as the Granite Crumb let go—Our Savior, by a Hair—A second more, had dropped too deepFor Fisherman to plumb—The very profile of the ThoughtPuts Recollection numb—The possibility—to passWithout a Moment’s Bell—Into Conjecture’s presence—Is like a Face of Steel—That suddenly looks into oursWith a metallic grin—The Cordiality of Death—Who drills his…

If Immortality unveilA third event to meSo huge, so hopeless to conceiveAs these that twice befell.Parting is all we know of heaven,And all we need of hell.

Oh let me immediately ‘fade’!If this is ‘dying’Bury me, in such a shroud of red!If this is ‘sleep,’On such a nightHow proud to shut the eye!Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!Peacock presumes to die!