fire

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Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!
Why, God, would be content
With but a fraction of the Life –
Poured thee, without a stint –
The whole of me — forever –
What more the Woman can,
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last Delight I own!

It cannot be my Spirit –
For that was thine, before –
I ceded all of Dust I knew –
What Opulence the more
Had I — a freckled Maiden,
Whose farthest of Degree,
Was — that she might –
Some distant Heaven,
Dwell timidly, with thee!

Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot!
Strain till your last Surmise –
Drop, like a Tapestry, away,
Before the Fire’s Eyes –
Winnow her finest fondness –
But hallow just the snow
Intact, in Everlasting flake –
Oh, Caviler, for you!

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Tho' I get home how late -- how late --Tho’ I get home how late — how late –
So I get home – ’twill compensate –
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me –
When Night — descending — dumb — and dark –
They hear my unexpected knock –
Transporting must the moment be –
Brewed from decades of Agony!

To think just how the fire will burn –
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn –
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me –
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

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He forgot -- and I -- remembered --He forgot — and I — remembered –
‘Twas an everyday affair –
Long ago as Christ and Peter –
“Warmed them” at the “Temple fire.”

“Thou wert with him” — quoth “the Damsel”?
“No” — said Peter, ’twasn’t me –
Jesus merely “looked” at Peter –
Could I do aught else — to Thee?

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I have never seen I have never seen “Volcanoes” –
But, when Travellers tell
How those old — phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still –

Bear within — appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men –

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place –

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome –
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy “Pompeii”!
To the Hills return!

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Like her the Saints retireLike her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!

Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!

“Departed” — both — they say!
i.e. gathered away,
Not found,

Argues the Aster still –
Reasons the Daffodil
Profound!

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