Tag Archives: mind

A precious — mouldering pleasure — ’tis –

A precious -- mouldering pleasure -- 'tis --A precious — mouldering pleasure — ’tis –
To meet an Antique Book –
In just the Dress his Century wore –
A privilege — I think –

His venerable Hand to take –
And warming in our own –
A passage back — or two — to make –
To Times when he — was young –

His quaint opinions — to inspect –
His thought to ascertain
On Themes concern our mutual mind –
The Literature of Man –

What interested Scholars — most –
What Competitions ran –
When Plato — was a Certainty –
And Sophocles — a Man –

When Sappho — was a living Girl –
And Beatrice wore
The Gown that Dante — deified –
Facts Centuries before

He traverses — familiar –
As One should come to Town –
And tell you all your Dreams — were true –
He lived — where Dreams were born –

His presence is Enchantment –
You beg him not to go –
Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads
And tantalize — just so –

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Heaven is so far of the Mind

Heaven is so far of the MindHeaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved –
The Site — of it — by Architect
Could not again be proved –

‘Tis vast — as our Capacity –
As fair — as our idea –
To Him of adequate desire
No further ’tis, than Here –

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I cannot dance upon my Toes –

I cannot dance upon my Toes --I cannot dance upon my Toes –
No Man instructed me –
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge –
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe –
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze –
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so –

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here –
Nor any Placard boast me –
It’s full as Opera –

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A shady friend — for Torrid days —

A shady friend — for Torrid days —A shady friend — for Torrid days —
Is easier to find —
Than one of higher temperature
For Frigid — hour of Mind —

The Vane a little to the East —
Scares Muslin souls — away —
If Broadcloth Hearts are firmer —
Than those of Organdy —

Who is to blame? The Weaver?
Ah, the bewildering thread!
The Tapestries of Paradise
So notelessly — are made!