Tag Archives: round

I felt my life with both my hands

I felt my life with both my handsI felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there —
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler —

I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner’s name —
For doubt, that I should know the Sound —

I judged my features — jarred my hair —
I pushed my dimples by, and waited —
If they — twinkled back —
Conviction might, of me —

I told myself, “Take Courage, Friend —
That — was a former time —
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!”

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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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The face I carry with me — last –

The face I carry with me -- last --The face I carry with me — last —
When I go out of Time —
To take my Rank — by — in the West —
That face — will just be thine —

I’ll hand it to the Angel —
That — Sir — was my Degree —
In Kingdoms — you have heard the Raised —
Refer to — possibly.

He’ll take it — scan it — step aside —
Return — with such a crown
As Gabriel — never capered at —
And beg me put it on —

And then — he’ll turn me round and round —
To an admiring sky —
As one that bore her Master’s name —
Sufficient Royalty!

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Of all the Sounds despatched abroad

Of all the Sounds despatched abroadOf all the Sounds despatched abroad,
There’s not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs —
That phraseless Melody —
The Wind does — working like a Hand,
Whose fingers Comb the Sky —
Then quiver down — with tufts of Tune —
Permitted Gods, and me —

Inheritance, it is, to us —
Beyond the Art to Earn —
Beyond the trait to take away
By Robber, since the Gain
Is gotten not of fingers —
And inner than the Bone —
Hid golden, for the whole of Days,
And even in the Urn,
I cannot vouch the merry Dust
Do not arise and play
In some odd fashion of its own,
Some quainter Holiday,
When Winds go round and round in Bands —
And thrum upon the door,
And Birds take places, overhead,
To bear them Orchestra.

I crave Him grace of Summer Boughs,
If such an Outcast be —
Who never heard that fleshless Chant —
Rise — solemn — on the Tree,
As if some Caravan of Sound
Off Deserts, in the Sky,
Had parted Rank,
Then knit, and swept —
In Seamless Company –

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I should have been too glad, I see –

I should have been too glad, I see --I should have been too glad, I see —
Too lifted — for the scant degree
Of Life’s penurious Round —
My little Circuit would have shamed
This new Circumference — have blamed —
The homelier time behind.

I should have been too saved — I see —
Too rescued — Fear too dim to me
That I could spell the Prayer
I knew so perfect — yesterday —
That Scalding One — Sabachthani —
Recited fluent — here —

Earth would have been too much — I see —
And Heaven — not enough for me —
I should have had the Joy
Without the Fear — to justify —
The Palm — without the Calvary —
So Savior — Crucify —
Defeat — whets Victory — they say —
The Reefs — in old Gethsemane —
Endear the Coast — beyond!
‘Tis Beggars — Banquets — can define —
‘Tis Parching — vitalizes Wine —
“Faith” bleats — to understand!