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!