“There is a pain – so utter – It swallows substance up – Then covers the Abyss with Trance – So Memory can step Around – across – opon it – As one within a Swoon – Goes safely – where an open eye – Would drop Him – Bone by Bone.”

“There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a tranceSo memory can step around, across, upon it.”

“They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the luneA wind with fingers goes.They perished in the seamless grass,No eye could find the place;But God on his repealless listCan summon every face”

“I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? “For beauty,” I replied. “And I for truth,—the two are one; We brethren are,” he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.”

“Unto my Books-so good to turn-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-”

“I did not reach thee, But my feet slip nearer every day; Three Rivers and a Hill to cross, One Desert and a Sea— I shall not count the journey one When I am telling thee. Two deserts—but the year is cold So that will help the sand— One desert crossed, the second one Will feel as cool as land. Sahara is too little price To pay for thy Right hand! The sea comes last. Step merry, feet! So short have we to go To play together we are prone, But we must labor now, The last shall be the lightest load That we have had to draw. The Sun goes crooked—that is night— Before he makes the bend We must have passed the middle sea, Almost we wish the end Were further off—too great it seems So near the Whole to stand. We step like plush, we stand like snow— The waters murmur now, Three rivers and the hill are passed, Two deserts and the sea! Now Death usurps my premium And gets the look at Thee.”

“He fumbles at your spiritAs players at the keysBefore they drop full music on;He stuns you by degrees.Prepares your brittle substanceFor the ethereal blowby fainter hammers, further heard,Then nearer, then so slowYour breath has time to straightenYour brain to bubble cool,-Deals one imperial thunderboltThat scalps your naked soul.”