Bound — a trouble –
And lives can bear it!
Limit — how deep a bleeding go!
So — many — drops — of vital scarlet –
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!

Tell it the Ages — to a cypher –
And it will ache — contented — on –
Sing — at its pain — as any Workman –
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

This — is the land — the Sunset washes –
These — are the Banks of the Yellow Sea –
Where it rose — or whither it rushes –
These — are the Western Mystery!

Night after Night
Her purple traffic
Strews the landing with Opal Bales –
Merchantmen — poise upon Horizons –
Dip — and vanish like Orioles!

Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

Put up my lute!
What of — my Music!
Since the sole ear I cared to charm –
Passive — as Granite — laps My Music –
Sobbing — will suit — as well as psalm!

Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert –
Teach me the strain
That vanquished Him –
When He — surrendered to the Sunrise –
Maybe — that — would awaken — them!

To die — takes just a little while –
They say it doesn’t hurt –
It’s only fainter — by degrees –
And then — it’s out of sight –

A darker Ribbon — for a Day –
A Crape upon the Hat –
And then the pretty sunshine comes –
And helps us to forget –

The absent — mystic — creature –
That but for love of us –
Had gone to sleep — that soundest time –
Without the weariness –

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 –

If He dissolve — then –
there is nothing — more –
Eclipse — at Midnight –
It was dark — before –

Sunset — at Easter –
Blindness — on the Dawn –
Faint Star of Bethlehem –
Gone down!

Would but some God — inform Him –
Or it be too late!
Say — that the pulse just lisps –
The Chariots wait –

Say — that a little life — for His –
Is leaking — red –
His little Spaniel — tell Him!
Will He heed?

The Sun — just touched the Morning –
The Morning — Happy thing –
Supposed that He had come to dwell –
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer –
A Raised — Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth — for Her — What Holiday!
Meanwhile — Her wheeling King –
Trailed — slow — along the Orchards –
His haughty — spangled Hems –
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning — fluttered — staggered –
Felt feebly — for Her Crown –
Her unanointed forehead –
Henceforth — Her only One!

Should you but fail at — Sea –
In sight of me –
Or doomed lie –
Next Sun — to die –
Or rap — at Paradise — unheard
I’d harass God
Until he let you in!

It can’t be “Summer”!
That — got through!
It’s early — yet — for “Spring”!
There’s that long town of White — to cross –
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can’t be “Dying”!
It’s too Rouge –
The Dead shall go in White –
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!