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A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth- Yet ampler than the Sun— And all the Seas He populates And Lands He looks upon …
“Heaven” has different Signs—to me- Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the World And settles in the Hills— An Awe if it should…
“Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—”Heaven” is—to Me! The Color, on the Cruising Cloud— The interdicted Land— Behind the Hill—the House behind— There—Paradise—is found! Her teasing Purples—Afternoons— The credulous—decoy—…
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears a human…
“Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
‘Nature’ is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven— Nature is what we hear— The Bobolink—the Sea— Thunder—the Cricket— Nay—Nature is Harmony— Nature is what we know— Yet have no art to say— So impotent…
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Grass To answer—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place. Because He knows—and Do not You— And We know not— Enough for Us The Wisdom…
There is a pain — so utter — It swallows substance up — Then covers the Abyss with Trance — So Memory can step Around — across — upon it — As one within a Swoon — Goes safely —…
I like to see it lap the Miles – And lick the Valleys up – And stop to feed itself at Tanks – And then – prodigious step Around a Pile of Mountains – And supercilious peer In Shanties…
I taste a liquor never brewed—From Tankards scooped in Pearl—Not all the Frankfort BerriesYield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of air—am I—And Debauchee of Dew—Reeling—thro’ endless summer days—From inns of molten Blue— When “Landlords” turn the drunken BeeOut of the Foxglove’s…