Tag Archives: know

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 —

Why make it doubt — it hurts it so —

Why make it doubt it hurts it so
Why make it doubt — it hurts it so —
So sick — to guess —
So strong — to know —
So brave — upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself — and smile — And shake —
For that dear — distant — dangerous — Sake —
But — the Instead — the Pinching fear
That Something — it did do — or dare —
Offend the Vision — and it flee —
And They no more remember me —
Nor ever turn to tell me why —
Oh, Master, This is Misery —

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.

‘Twas just this time, last year, I died.

'Twas just this time, last year, I died.‘Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms —
It had the Tassels on —

I thought how yellow it would look —
When Richard went to mill —
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how Red — Apples wedged
The Stubble’s joints between —
And the Carts stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in —

I wondered which would miss me, least,
And when Thanksgiving, came,
If Father’d multiply the plates —
To make an even Sum —

And would it blur the Christmas glee
My Stocking hang too high
For any Santa Claus to reach
The Altitude of me —

But this sort, grieved myself,
And so, I thought the other way,
How just this time, some perfect year —
Themself, should come to me —

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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Not in this World to see his face —

Not in this World to see his face --Not in this World to see his face —
Sounds long — until I read the place
Where this — is said to be
But just the Primer — to a life —
Unopened — rare — Upon the Shelf —
Clasped yet — to Him — and Me —

And yet — My Primer suits me so
I would not choose — a Book to know
Than that — be sweeter wise —
Might some one else — so learned — be —
And leave me — just my A — B — C —
Himself — could have the Skies —

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How many Flowers fail in Wood —

How many Flowers fail in Wood --How many Flowers fail in Wood —
Or perish from the Hill —
Without the privilege to know
That they are Beautiful —

How many cast a nameless Pod
Upon the nearest Breeze —
Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight —
It bear to Other Eyes —

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