Tag Archives: sound

It don’t sound so terrible — quite — as it did –

It don't sound so terrible -- quite -- as it did --It don’t sound so terrible — quite — as it did —
I run it over — “Dead”, Brain, “Dead.”
Put it in Latin — left of my school —
Seems it don’t shriek so — under rule.

Turn it, a little — full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest —
Shift it — just —
Say “When Tomorrow comes this way —
I shall have waded down one Day.”

I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed — but then the Tomb
Like other new Things — shows largest — then —
And smaller, by Habit —

It’s shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance — a Year —
How like “a fit” — then —
Murder — wear!

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Is it dead — Find it –

Is it dead -- Find it --Is it dead — Find it —
Out of sound — Out of sight —
“Happy”? Which is wiser —
You, or the Wind?
“Conscious”? Won’t you ask that —
Of the low Ground?

“Homesick”? Many met it —
Even through them — This
Cannot testify —
Themself — as dumb –

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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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I cannot dance upon my Toes –

I cannot dance upon my Toes --I cannot dance upon my Toes —
No Man instructed me —
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge —
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe —
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze —
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so —

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here —
Nor any Placard boast me —
It’s full as Opera –

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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 –

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’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent –

I've known a Heaven, like a Tent --I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent —
To wrap its shining Yards —
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear —
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail — Or Carpenter —
But just the miles of Stare —
That signalize a Show’s Retreat —
In North America —

No Trace — no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring — no Marvel —
Men, and Feats —
Dissolved as utterly —
As Bird’s far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue —
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety —
Then swallowed up, of View.

When we stand on the tops of Things –

When we stand on the tops of Things --When we stand on the tops of Things —
And like the Trees, look down —
The smoke all cleared away from it —
And Mirrors on the scene —

Just laying light — no soul will wink
Except it have the flaw —
The Sound ones, like the Hills — shall stand —
No Lighting, scares away —

The Perfect, nowhere be afraid —
They bear their dauntless Heads,
Where others, dare not go at Noon,
Protected by their deeds —

The Stars dare shine occasionally
Upon a spotted World —
And Suns, go surer, for their Proof,
As if an Axle, held –