Tag Archives: Life

While it is alive

While it is aliveWhile it is alive
Until Death touches it
While it and I lap one Air
Dwell in one Blood
Under one Sacrament
Show me Division can split or pare —

Love is like Life — merely longer
Love is like Death, during the Grave
Love is the Fellow of the Resurrection
Scooping up the Dust and chanting “Live”!

The Manner of its Death

The Manner of its Death
The Manner of its Death
When Certain it must die —
‘Tis deemed a privilege to choose —
‘Twas Major Andre’s Way —

When Choice of Life — is past —
There yet remains a Love
Its little Fate to stipulate —

How small in those who live —

The Miracle to tease
With Bable of the styles —
How “they are Dying mostly — now” —
And Customs at “St. James”!

I showed her Heights she never saw —

I showed her Heights she never saw —I showed her Heights she never saw —
“Would’st Climb,” I said?
She said — “Not so” —
“With me —” I said — With me?
I showed her Secrets — Morning’s Nest —
The Rope the Nights were put across —
And now — “Would’st have me for a Guest?”
She could not find her Yes —
And then, I brake my life — And Lo,
A Light, for her, did solemn glow,
The larger, as her face withdrew —
And could she, further, “No”?

I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl –

I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl --I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl —
Life’s little duties do — precisely —
As the very least
Were infinite — to me —

I put new Blossoms in the Glass —
And throw the old — away —
I push a petal from my gown
That anchored there — I weigh
The time ’twill be till six o’clock
I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped — struck — my ticking — through —
We cannot put Ourself away
As a completed Man
Or Woman — When the Errand’s done
We came to Flesh — upon —
There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought —
Of Action — sicker far —
To simulate — is stinging work —
To cover what we are
From Science — and from Surgery —
Too Telescopic Eyes
To bear on us unshaded —
For their — sake — not for Ours —
‘Twould start them —
We — could tremble —
But since we got a Bomb —
And held it in our Bosom —
Nay — Hold it — it is calm —

Therefore — we do life’s labor —
Though life’s Reward — be done —
With scrupulous exactness —
To hold our Senses — on –

More Life — went out — when He went

More Life -- went out -- when He wentMore Life — went out — when He went
Than Ordinary Breath —
Lit with a finer Phosphor —
Requiring in the Quench —

A Power of Renowned Cold,
The Climate of the Grave
A Temperature just adequate
So Anthracite, to live —

For some — an Ampler Zero —
A Frost more needle keen
Is necessary, to reduce
The Ethiop within.

Others — extinguish easier —
A Gnat’s minutest Fan
Sufficient to obliterate
A Tract of Citizen —

Whose Peat lift — amply vivid —
Ignores the solemn News
That Popocatapel exists —
Or Etna’s Scarlets, Choose –

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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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There is a Languor of the Life

There is a Languor of the LifeThere is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain —
‘Tis Pain’s Successor — When the Soul
Has suffered all it can —

A Drowsiness — diffuses —
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness —
As Mists — obliterate a Crag.

The Surgeon — does not blanch — at pain
His Habit — is severe —
But tell him that it ceased to feel —
The Creature lying there —

And he will tell you — skill is late —
A Mightier than He —
Has ministered before Him —
There’s no Vitality.

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For Death — or rather

For Death -- or ratherFor Death — or rather
For the Things ‘twould buy —
This — put away
Life’s Opportunity —

The Things that Death will buy
Are Room —
Escape from Circumstances —
And a Name —

With Gifts of Life
How Death’s Gifts may compare —
We know not —
For the Rates — lie Here –

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