Tag Archives: easy

If any sink, assure that this, now standing –

If any sink, assure that this, now standing --If any sink, assure that this, now standing –
Failed like Themselves — and conscious that it rose –
Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding
How Weakness passed — or Force — arose –

Tell that the Worst, is easy in a Moment –
Dread, but the Whizzing, before the Ball –
When the Ball enters, enters Silence –
Dying — annuls the power to kill.

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Perhaps I asked too large –

Perhaps I asked too large --Perhaps I asked too large –
I take — no less than skies –
For Earths, grow thick as
Berries, in my native town –

My Basket holds — just — Firmaments –
Those — dangle easy — on my arm,
But smaller bundles — Cram.

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I cannot dance upon my Toes –

I cannot dance upon my Toes --I cannot dance upon my Toes –
No Man instructed me –
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge –
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe –
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze –
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so –

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here –
Nor any Placard boast me –
It’s full as Opera –

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Her — “last Poems” –

Her -- Her — “last Poems” –
Poets — ended –
Silver — perished — with her Tongue –
Not on Record — bubbled other,
Flute — or Woman –
So divine –
Not unto its Summer — Morning
Robin — uttered Half the Tune –
Gushed too free for the Adoring –
From the Anglo-Florentine –
Late — the Praise –
‘Tis dull — conferring
On the Head too High to Crown –
Diadem — or Ducal Showing –
Be its Grave — sufficient sign –
Nought — that We — No Poet’s Kinsman –
Suffocate — with easy woe –
What, and if, Ourself a Bridegroom –
Put Her down — in Italy?

‘Tis so appalling—it exhilarates—

'Tis so appalling—it exhilarates—‘Tis so appalling—it exhilarates—
So over Horror, it half Captivates—
The Soul stares after it, secure—
A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more—

To scan a Ghost, is faint—
But grappling, conquers it—
How easy, Torment, now—
Suspense kept sawing so—

The Truth, is Bald, and Cold—
But that will hold—
If any are not sure—
We show them—prayer—
But we, who know,
Stop hoping, now—

Looking at Death, is Dying—
Just let go the Breath—
And not the pillow at your Cheek
So Slumbereth—

Others, Can wrestle—
Yours, is done—
And so of Woe, bleak dreaded—come,
It sets the Fright at liberty—
And Terror’s free—
Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!

It is easy to work when the soul is at play –

It is easy to work when the soul is at play --It is easy to work when the soul is at play –
But when the soul is in pain –
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult — then –

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind –
But Gimlets — among the nerve –
Mangle daintier — terribler –
Like a Panter in the Glove –