Tag Archives: pain

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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How sick — to wait — in any place — but thine –

How sick -- to wait -- in any place -- but thine --How sick — to wait — in any place — but thine —
I knew last night — when someone tried to twine —
Thinking — perhaps — that I looked tired — or alone —
Or breaking — almost — with unspoken pain —

And I turned — ducal —
That right — was thine —
One port — suffices — for a Brig — like mine —

Ours be the tossing — wild though the sea —
Rather than a Mooring — unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo — unladed — here —
Rather than the “spicy isles –”
And thou — not there –

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Although I put away his life –

Although I put away his life --Although I put away his life —
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand

That sowed the flower, he preferred —
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path —
Or played his chosen tune —

On Lute the least — the latest —
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe’er delighted it,
I never would let go —

The foot to bear his errand —
A little Boot I know —
Would leap abroad like Antelope —
With just the grant to do —

His weariest Commandment —
A sweeter to obey,
Than “Hide and Seek” —
Or skip to Flutes —
Or all Day, chase the Bee —

Your Servant, Sir, will weary —
The Surgeon, will not come —
The World, will have its own — to do —
The Dust, will vex your Fame —

The Cold will force your tightest door
Some February Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay —

That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me —
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first — to me.

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A happy lip — breaks sudden –

A happy lip -- breaks sudden --A happy lip — breaks sudden —
It doesn’t state you how
It contemplated — smiling —
Just consummated — now —
But this one, wears its merriment
So patient — like a pain —
Fresh gilded — to elude the eyes
Unqualified, to scan –

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‘Twas the old — road — through pain –

'Twas the old -- road -- through pain --‘Twas the old — road — through pain —
That unfrequented — one —
With many a turn — and thorn —
That stops — at Heaven —

This — was the Town — she passed —
There — where she — rested — last —
Then — stepped more fast —
The little tracks — close prest —
Then — not so swift —
Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow —
Then — stopped — no other track!

Wait! Look! Her little Book —
The leaf — at love — turned back —
Her very Hat —
And this worn shoe just fits the track —
Herself — though — fled!

Another bed — a short one —
Women make — tonight —
In Chambers bright —
Too out of sight — though —
For our hoarse Good Night —
To touch her Head!

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After great pain, a formal feeling comes –

After great pain, a formal feeling comes --After great pain, a formal feeling comes —
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs —
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round —
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought —
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone —

This is the Hour of Lead —
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow —
First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go –

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Bound — a trouble –

Bound -- a trouble --Bound — a trouble —
And lives can bear it!
Limit — how deep a bleeding go!
So — many — drops — of vital scarlet —
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!

Tell it the Ages — to a cypher —
And it will ache — contented — on —
Sing — at its pain — as any Workman —
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

It is easy to work when the soul is at play –

It is easy to work when the soul is at play --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 –