Tag Archives: hand

It was given to me by the Gods –

It was given to me by the Gods
It was given to me by the Gods —
When I was a little Girl —
They given us Presents most — you know —
When we are new — and small.
I kept it in my Hand —
I never put it down —
I did not dare to eat — or sleep —
For fear it would be gone —
I heard such words as “Rich” —
When hurrying to school —
From lips at Corners of the Streets —
And wrestled with a smile.
Rich! ‘Twas Myself — was rich —
To take the name of Gold —
And Gold to own — in solid Bars —
The Difference — made me bold –

The Outer — from the Inner

The Outer -- from the InnerThe Outer — from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude —
‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood —

The fine — unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel —
Though Spokes — spin — more conspicuous
And fling a dust — the while.

The Inner — paints the Outer —
The Brush without the Hand —
Its Picture publishes — precise —
As is the inner Brand —

On fine — Arterial Canvas —
A Cheek — perchance a Brow —
The Star’s whole Secret — in the Lake —
Eyes were not meant to know.

The Wind — tapped like a tired Man –

The Wind -- tapped like a tired Man --The Wind — tapped like a tired Man —
And like a Host — “Come in”
I boldly answered — entered then
My Residence within

A Rapid — footless Guest —
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air —

No Bone had He to bind Him —
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush —

His Countenance — a Billow —
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music — as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass —

He visited — still flitting —
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped — ’twas flurriedly —
And I became alone –

Take your Heaven further on –

Take your Heaven further on --Take your Heaven further on —
This — to Heaven divine Has gone —
Had You earlier blundered in
Possibly, e’en You had seen
An Eternity — put on —
Now — to ring a Door beyond
Is the utmost of Your Hand —
To the Skies — apologize —
Nearer to Your Courtesies
Than this Sufferer polite —
Dressed to meet You —
See — in White!

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A precious — mouldering pleasure — ’tis –

A precious -- mouldering pleasure -- 'tis --A precious — mouldering pleasure — ’tis —
To meet an Antique Book —
In just the Dress his Century wore —
A privilege — I think —

His venerable Hand to take —
And warming in our own —
A passage back — or two — to make —
To Times when he — was young —

His quaint opinions — to inspect —
His thought to ascertain
On Themes concern our mutual mind —
The Literature of Man —

What interested Scholars — most —
What Competitions ran —
When Plato — was a Certainty —
And Sophocles — a Man —

When Sappho — was a living Girl —
And Beatrice wore
The Gown that Dante — deified —
Facts Centuries before

He traverses — familiar —
As One should come to Town —
And tell you all your Dreams — were true —
He lived — where Dreams were born —

His presence is Enchantment —
You beg him not to go —
Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads
And tantalize — just so –

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Over and over, like a Tune –

Over and over, like a Tune --Over and over, like a Tune —
The Recollection plays —
Drums off the Phantom Battlements
Cornets of Paradise —

Snatches, from Baptized Generations —
Cadences too grand
But for the Justified Processions
At the Lord’s Right hand.

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Although I put away his life –

Although I put away his life --Although I put away his life —
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand

That sowed the flower, he preferred —
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path —
Or played his chosen tune —

On Lute the least — the latest —
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe’er delighted it,
I never would let go —

The foot to bear his errand —
A little Boot I know —
Would leap abroad like Antelope —
With just the grant to do —

His weariest Commandment —
A sweeter to obey,
Than “Hide and Seek” —
Or skip to Flutes —
Or all Day, chase the Bee —

Your Servant, Sir, will weary —
The Surgeon, will not come —
The World, will have its own — to do —
The Dust, will vex your Fame —

The Cold will force your tightest door
Some February Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay —

That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me —
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first — to me.

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They leave us with the Infinite.

They leave us with the Infinite.They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man —
His fingers are the size of fists —
His fists, the size of men —

And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand —
Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,

So trust him, Comrade —
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.

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