Love

Did we disobey Him?
Just one time!
Charged us to forget Him –
But we couldn’t learn!

Were Himself — such a Dunce –
What would we — do?
Love the dull lad — best –
Oh, wouldn’t 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

To die — takes just a little while –
They say it doesn’t hurt –
It’s only fainter — by degrees –
And then — it’s out of sight –

A darker Ribbon — for a Day –
A Crape upon the Hat –
And then the pretty sunshine comes –
And helps us to forget –

The absent — mystic — creature –
That but for love of us –
Had gone to sleep — that soundest time –
Without the weariness –

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!

It is easy to work when the soul is at play –
But when the soul is in pain –
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult — then –

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind –
But Gimlets — among the nerve –
Mangle daintier — terribler –
Like a Panter in the Glove –

We — Bee and I — live by the quaffing –
‘Tisn’t all Hock — with us –
Life has its Ale –
But it’s many a lay of the Dim Burgundy –
We chant — for cheer — when the Wines — fail –

Do we “get drunk”?
Ask the jolly Clovers!
Do we “beat” our “Wife”?
I — never wed –
Bee — pledges his — in minute flagons –
Dainty — as the trees — on our deft Head –

While runs the Rhine –
He and I — revel –
First — at the vat — and latest at the Vine –
Noon — our last Cup –
“Found dead” — “of Nectar” –
By a humming Coroner –
In a By-Thyme!

I cautious, scanned my little life –
I winnowed what would fade
From what would last till Heads like mine
Should be a-dreaming laid.

I put the latter in a Barn –
The former, blew away.
I went one winter morning
And lo – my priceless Hay

Was not upon the “Scaffold” –
Was not upon the “Beam” –
And from a thriving Farmer –
A Cynic, I became.

Whether a Thief did it –
Whether it was the wind –
Whether Deity’s guiltless –
My business is, to find!

So I begin to ransack!
How is it Hearts, with Thee?
Art thou within the little Barn
Love provided Thee?

You love me — you are sure –
I shall not fear mistake –
I shall not cheated wake –
Some grinning morn –
To find the Sunrise left –
And Orchards — unbereft –
And Dollie — gone!

I need not start — you’re sure –
That night will never be –
When frightened — home to Thee I run –
To find the windows dark –
And no more Dollie — mark –
Quite none?

Be sure you’re sure — you know –
I’ll bear it better now –
If you’ll just tell me so –
Than when — a little dull Balm grown –
Over this pain of mine –
You sting — again!