Tag Archives: eye

A Solemn thing within the Soul

A Solemn thing within the SoulA Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe —
And golden hang — while farther up —
The Maker’s Ladders stop —
And in the Orchard far below —
You hear a Being — drop —

A Wonderful — to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished —
Cool of eye, and critical of Work —
He shifts the stem — a little —
To give your Core — a look —

But solemnest — to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer — Every Sun
The Single — to some lives.

“Why do I love” You, Sir?

"Why do I love" You, Sir?“Why do I love” You, Sir?
Because —
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer — Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows — and
Do not You —
And We know not —
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so —

The Lightning — never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut — when He was by —
Because He knows it cannot speak —
And reasons not contained —
— Of Talk —
There be — preferred by Daintier Folk —

The Sunrise — Sire — compelleth Me —
Because He’s Sunrise — and I see —
Therefore — Then —
I love Thee –

She dealt her pretty words like Blades –

She dealt her pretty words like BladesShe dealt her pretty words like Blades —
How glittering they shone —
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone —

She never deemed — she hurt —
That — is not Steel’s Affair —
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh —
How ill the Creatures bear —

To Ache is human — not polite —
The Film upon the eye
Mortality’s old Custom —
Just locking up — to Die.

It would never be Common — more — I said –

It would never be Common -- more -- I said --It would never be Common — more — I said —
Difference — had begun —
Many a bitterness — had been —
But that old sort — was done —

Or — if it sometime — showed — as ’twill —
Upon the Downiest — Morn —
Such bliss — had I — for all the years —
‘Twould give an Easier — pain —

I’d so much joy — I told it — Red —
Upon my simple Cheek —
I felt it publish — in my Eye —
‘Twas needless — any speak —

I walked — as wings — my body bore —
The feet — I former used —
Unnecessary — now to me —
As boots — would be — to Birds —

I put my pleasure all abroad —
I dealth a word of Gold
To every Creature — that I met —
And Dowered — all the World —

When — suddenly — my Riches shrank —
A Goblin — drank my Dew —
My Palaces — dropped tenantless —
Myself — was beggared — too —

I clutched at sounds —
I groped at shapes —
I touched the tops of Films —
I felt the Wilderness roll back
Along my Golden lines —

The Sackcloth — hangs upon the nail —
The Frock I used to wear —
But where my moment of Brocade —
My — drop — of India?

You’ll know it — as you know ’tis Noon –

You'll know it -- as you know 'tis Noon --You’ll know it — as you know ’tis Noon —
By Glory —
As you do the Sun —
By Glory —
As you will in Heaven —
Know God the Father — and the Son.

By intuition, Mightiest Things
Assert themselves — and not by terms —
“I’m Midnight” — need the Midnight say —
“I’m Sunrise” — Need the Majesty?

Omnipotence — had not a Tongue —
His lisp — is Lightning — and the Sun —
His Conversation — with the Sea —
“How shall you know”?
Consult your Eye!

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‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,

'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem —
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke —
And let you from a Dream —

As if a Goblin with a Gauge —
Kept measuring the Hours —
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws —

And not a Sinew — stirred — could help,
And sense was setting numb —
When God — remembered — and the Fiend
Let go, then, Overcome —

As if your Sentence stood — pronounced —
And you were frozen led
From Dungeon’s luxury of Doubt
To Gibbets, and the Dead —

And when the Film had stitched your eyes
A Creature gasped “Reprieve”!
Which Anguish was the utterest — then —
To perish, or to live?

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The Angle of a Landscape –

The Angle of a Landscape --The Angle of a Landscape —
That every time I wake —
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack —

Like a Venetian — waiting —
Accosts my open eye —
Is just a Bough of Apples —
Held slanting, in the Sky —

The Pattern of a Chimney —
The Forehead of a Hill —
Sometimes — a Vane’s Forefinger —
But that’s — Occasional —

The Seasons — shift — my Picture —
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake — to find no — Emeralds —
Then — Diamonds — which the Snow

From Polar Caskets — fetched me —
The Chimney — and the Hill —
And just the Steeple’s finger —
These — never stir at all –

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