Tag Archives: paradise

I never felt at Home — Below –

I never felt at Home -- Below --I never felt at Home — Below –
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at Home — I know –
I don’t like Paradise –

Because it’s Sunday — all the time –
And Recess — never comes –
And Eden’ll be so lonesome
Bright Wednesday Afternoons –

If God could make a visit –
Or ever took a Nap –
So not to see us — but they say
Himself — a Telescope

Perennial beholds us –
Myself would run away
From Him — and Holy Ghost — and All –
But there’s the “Judgement Day”!

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Over and over, like a Tune –

Over and over, like a Tune --Over and over, like a Tune –
The Recollection plays –
Drums off the Phantom Battlements
Cornets of Paradise –

Snatches, from Baptized Generations –
Cadences too grand
But for the Justified Processions
At the Lord’s Right hand.

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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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Not probable — The barest Chance –

Not probable -- The barest Chance --Not probable — The barest Chance –
A smile too few — a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest –
The Soul so close on Paradise –

What if the Bird from journey far –
Confused by Sweets — as Mortals — are –
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish — but a Bough between –
Oh, Groping feet –
Oh Phantom Queen!

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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!

What is — “Paradise”

What is -- 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!