Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

I’ve nothing else — to bring, You know –
So I keep bringing These –
Just as the Night keeps fetching Stars
To our familiar eyes –

Maybe, we shouldn’t mind them –
Unless they didn’t come –
Then — maybe, it would puzzle us
To find our way Home –

I Came to buy a smile — today –
But just a single smile –
The smallest one upon your face
Will suit me just as well –
The one that no one else would miss
It shone so very small –
I’m pleading at the “counter” — sir –
Could you afford to sell –
I’ve Diamonds — on my fingers –
You know what Diamonds are?
I’ve Rubies — live the Evening Blood –
And Topaz — like the star!
‘Twould be “a Bargain” for a Jew!
Say — may I have it — Sir?

What is — “Paradise” –
Who live there –
Are they “Farmers” –
Do they “hoe” –
Do they know that this is “Amherst” –
And that I — am coming — too –

Do they wear “new shoes” — in “Eden” –
Is it always pleasant — there –
Won’t they scold us — when we’re homesick –
Or tell God — how cross we are –

You are sure there’s such a person
As “a Father” — in the sky –
So if I get lost — there — ever –
Or do what the Nurse calls “die” –
I shan’t walk the “Jasper” — barefoot –
Ransomed folks — won’t laugh at me –
Maybe — “Eden” a’n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!

Garland for Queens, may be –
Laurels — for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah — but remembering me –
Ah — but remembering thee –
Nature in chivalry –
Nature in charity –
Nature in equity –
This Rose ordained!

There is a morn by men unseen –
Whose maids upon remoter green
Keep their Seraphic May –
And all day long, with dance and game,
And gambol I may never name –
Employ their holiday.

Here to light measure, move the feet
Which walk no more the village street –
Nor by the wood are found –
Here are the birds that sought the sun
When last year’s distaff idle hung
And summer’s brows were bound.

Ne’er saw I such a wondrous scene –
Ne’er such a ring on such a green –
Nor so serene array –
As if the stars some summer night
Should swing their cups of Chrysolite –
And revel till the day –

Like thee to dance — like thee to sing –
People upon the mystic green –
I ask, each new May Morn.
I wait thy far, fantastic bells –
Unto the different dawn!

All these my banners be.
I sow my pageantry
In May –
It rises train by train –
Then sleeps in state again –
My chancel — all the plain
Today.

To lose — if one can find again –
To miss — if one shall meet –
The Burglar cannot rob — then –
The Broker cannot cheat.
So build the hillocks gaily
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine –
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know –
Let us chant it softly –
“There is no more snow!”

To him who keeps an Orchis’ heart –
The swamps are pink with June.

The Gentian weaves her fringes –
The Maple’s loom is red –
My departing blossoms
Obviate parade.

A brief, but patient illness –
An hour to prepare,
And one below this morning
Is where the angels are –
It was a short procession,
The Bobolink was there –
An aged Bee addressed us –
And then we knelt in prayer –
We trust that she was willing –
We ask that we may be.
Summer — Sister — Seraph!
Let us go with thee!

In the name of the Bee –
And of the Butterfly –
And of the Breeze — Amen!

One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There’s only one recorded,
But both belong to me.

One came the road that I came –
And wore my last year’s gown –
The other, as a bird her nest,
Builded our hearts among.

She did not sing as we did –
It was a different tune –
Herself to her a music
As Bumble bee of June.

Today is far from Childhood –
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter –
Which shortened all the miles –

And still her hum
The years among,
Deceives the Butterfly;
Still in her Eye
The Violets lie
Mouldered this many May.

I spilt the dew –
But took the morn –
I chose this single star
From out the wide night’s numbers –
Sue – forevermore!