I should have been too glad, I see –
Too lifted — for the scant degree
Of Life’s penurious Round –
My little Circuit would have shamed
This new Circumference — have blamed –
The homelier time behind.

I should have been too saved — I see –
Too rescued — Fear too dim to me
That I could spell the Prayer
I knew so perfect — yesterday –
That Scalding One — Sabachthani –
Recited fluent — here –

Earth would have been too much — I see –
And Heaven — not enough for me –
I should have had the Joy
Without the Fear — to justify –
The Palm — without the Calvary –
So Savior — Crucify –
Defeat — whets Victory — they say –
The Reefs — in old Gethsemane –
Endear the Coast — beyond!
‘Tis Beggars — Banquets — can define –
‘Tis Parching — vitalizes Wine –
“Faith” bleats — to understand!

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 –

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!

A single Screw of Flesh
Is all that pins the Soul
That stands for Deity, to Mine,
Upon my side the Veil –

Once witnessed of the Gauze –
Its name is put away
As far from mine, as if no plight
Had printed yesterday,

In tender — solemn Alphabet,
My eyes just turned to see,
When it was smuggled by my sight
Into Eternity –

More Hands — to hold — These are but Two –
One more new-mailed Nerve
Just granted, for the Peril’s sake –
Some striding — Giant — Love –

So greater than the Gods can show,
They slink before the Clay,
That not for all their Heaven can boast
Will let its Keepsake — go

The lonesome for they know not What –
The Eastern Exiles — be –
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday –

And ever since — the purple Moat
They strive to climb — in vain –
As Birds — that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain –

The Blessed Ether — taught them –
Some Transatlantic Morn –
When Heaven — was too common — to miss –
Too sure — to dote upon!

Why — do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing — too loud?
But — I can say a little “Minor”
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
Just — once — more –
Just — see — if I troubled them –
But don’t — shut the door!

Oh, if I — were the Gentleman
In the “White Robe” –
And they — were the little Hand — that knocked –
Could — I — forbid?

Forever at His side to walk –
The smaller of the two!
Brain of His Brain –
Blood of His Blood –
Two lives — One Being — now –

Forever of His fate to taste –
If grief — the largest part –
If joy — to put my piece away
For that beloved Heart –

All life — to know each other –
Whom we can never learn –
And bye and bye — a Change –
Called Heaven –
Rapt Neighborhoods of Men –
Just finding out — what puzzled us –
Without the lexicon!

I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent –
To wrap its shining Yards –
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear –
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail — Or Carpenter –
But just the miles of Stare –
That signalize a Show’s Retreat –
In North America –

No Trace — no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring — no Marvel –
Men, and Feats –
Dissolved as utterly –
As Bird’s far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue –
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety –
Then swallowed up, of View.

You’re right — “the way is narrow” –
And “difficult the Gate” –
And “few there be” — Correct again –
That “enter in — thereat” –

‘Tis Costly — So are purples!
‘Tis just the price of Breath –
With but the “Discount” of the Grave –
Termed by the Brokers — “Death”!

And after that — there’s Heaven –
The Good Man’s — “Dividend” –
And Bad Men — “go to Jail” –
I guess –

I can’t tell you — but you feel it –
Nor can you tell me –
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

Sweeter than a vanished frolic
From a vanished green!
Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen
Round a Ledge of dream!

Modest, let us walk among it
With our faces veiled –
As they say polite Archangels
Do in meeting God!

Not for me — to prate about it!
Not for you — to say
To some fashionable Lady
“Charming April Day”!

Rather — Heaven’s “Peter Parley”!
By which Children slow
To sublimer Recitation
Are prepared to go!