Tag Archives: passed

A Wife — at daybreak I shall be –

A Wife at daybreak I shall be
A Wife — at daybreak I shall be —
Sunrise — Hast thou a Flag for me?
At Midnight, I am but a Maid,
How short it takes to make a Bride —
Then — Midnight, I have passed from thee
Unto the East, and Victory —

Midnight — Good Night! I hear them call,
The Angels bustle in the Hall —
Softly my Future climbs the Stair,
I fumble at my Childhood’s prayer
So soon to be a Child no more —
Eternity, I’m coming — Sire,
Savior — I’ve seen the face — before!

The Wind — tapped like a tired Man –

The Wind -- tapped like a tired Man --The Wind — tapped like a tired Man —
And like a Host — “Come in”
I boldly answered — entered then
My Residence within

A Rapid — footless Guest —
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air —

No Bone had He to bind Him —
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush —

His Countenance — a Billow —
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music — as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass —

He visited — still flitting —
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped — ’twas flurriedly —
And I became alone –

If any sink, assure that this, now standing –

If any sink, assure that this, now standing --If any sink, assure that this, now standing —
Failed like Themselves — and conscious that it rose —
Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding
How Weakness passed — or Force — arose —

Tell that the Worst, is easy in a Moment —
Dread, but the Whizzing, before the Ball —
When the Ball enters, enters Silence —
Dying — annuls the power to kill.

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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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Of Tribulation, these are They

Of Tribulation, these are TheyOf Tribulation, these are They,
Denoted by the White —
The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Rank
Of Victors — designate —

All these — did conquer —
But the ones who overcame most times —
Wear nothing commoner than Snow —
No Ornament, but Palms —

Surrender — is a sort unknown —
On this superior soil —
Defeat — an outgrown Anguish —
Remembered, as the Mile

Our panting Ankle barely passed —
When Night devoured the Road —
But we — stood whispering in the House —
And all we said — was “Saved”!

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There came a Day at Summer’s full

There came a Day at Summer's fullThere came a Day at Summer’s full,
Entirely for me —
I thought that such were for the Saints,
Where Resurrections — be —

The Sun, as common, went abroad,
The flowers, accustomed, blew,
As if no soul the solstice passed
That maketh all things new —

The time was scarce profaned, by speech —
The symbol of a word
Was needless, as at Sacrament,
The Wardrobe — of our Lord —

Each was to each The Sealed Church,
Permitted to commune this — time —
Lest we too awkward show
At Supper of the Lamb.

The Hours slid fast — as Hours will,
Clutched tight, by greedy hands —
So faces on two Decks, look back,
Bound to opposing lands —

And so when all the time had leaked,
Without external sound
Each bound the Other’s Crucifix —
We gave no other Bond —

Sufficient troth, that we shall rise —
Deposed — at length, the Grave —
To that new Marriage,
Justified — through Calvaries of Love –

That after Horror — that ’twas us –

That after Horror -- that 'twas us --That after Horror — that ’twas us —
That passed the mouldering Pier —
Just as the Granite Crumb let go —
Our Savior, by a Hair —

A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb —
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb —

The possibility — to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell —
Into Conjecture’s presence —
Is like a Face of Steel —
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin —
The Cordiality of Death —
Who drills his Welcome in –