“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 Berries Yield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of air – am I – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling – thro’ endless summer…
Wild nights – Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a Heart in port – Done with the Compass – Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden…
A Bird, came down the Walk – He did not know I saw – He bit an Angle Worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw, And then, he drank a Dew From a convenient Grass – And then…
