The difference between Despair
And Fear — is like the One
Between the instant of a Wreck
And when the Wreck has been –

The Mind is smooth — no Motion –
Contented as the Eye
Upon the Forehead of a Bust –
That knows — it cannot see –

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle
When Summertime is done –
Seems Summer’s Recollection
And the Affairs of June

As infinite Tradition
As Cinderella’s Bays –
Or Little John — of Lincoln Green –
Or Blue Beard’s Galleries –

Her Bees have a fictitious Hum –
Her Blossoms, like a Dream –
Elate us — till we almost weep –
So plausible — they seem –

Her Memories like Strains — Review –
When Orchestra is dumb –
The Violin in Baize replaced –
And Ear — and Heaven — numb –

“Morning” — means “Milking” — to the Farmer –
Dawn — to the Teneriffe –
Dice — to the Maid –
Morning means just Risk — to the Lover –
Just revelation — to the Beloved –

Epicures — date a Breakfast — by it –
Brides — an Apocalypse –
Worlds — a Flood –
Faint-going Lives — Their Lapse from Sighing –
Faith — The Experiment of Our Lord

Alone, I cannot be –
For Hosts — do visit me –
Recordless Company –
Who baffle Key –

They have no Robes, nor Names –
No Almanacs — nor Climes –
But general Homes
Like Gnomes –

Their Coming, may be known
By Couriers within –
Their going — is not –
For they’ve never gone –

It’s like the Light –
A fashionless Delight –
It’s like the Bee –
A dateless — Melody –

It’s like the Woods –
Private — Like the Breeze –
Phraseless — yet it stirs
The proudest Trees –

It’s like the Morning –
Best — when it’s done –
And the Everlasting Clocks –
Chime — Noon!

One Year ago — jots what?
God — spell the word! I — can’t –
Was’t Grace? Not that –
Was’t Glory? That — will do –
Spell slower — Glory –

Such Anniversary shall be –

Unto like Story — Trouble has enticed me –
How Kinsmen fell –
Brothers and Sister — who preferred the Glory –
And their young will
Bent to the Scaffold, or in Dungeons — chanted –
Till God’s full time –
When they let go the ignominy — smiling –
And Shame went still –

Unto guessed Crests, my moaning fancy, leads me,
Worn fair
By Heads rejected — in the lower country –
Of honors there –
Such spirit makes her perpetual mention,
That I — grown bold –
Step martial — at my Crucifixion –
As Trumpets — rolled –

Feet, small as mine — have marched in Revolution
Firm to the Drum –
Hands — not so stout — hoisted them — in witness –
When Speech went numb –
Let me not shame their sublime deportments –
Drilled bright –
Beckoning — Etruscan invitation –
Toward Light –

The Doomed — regard the Sunrise
With different Delight –
Because — when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it –

The Man — to die — tomorrow –
Harks for the Meadow Bird –
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head –

Joyful — to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored — Day –
Joyful — for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!