Category Poem

There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today— I know it, by the numb look Such Houses have—alway— The Neighbors rustle in and out— The Doctor—drives away— A Window opens like a Pod— Abrupt—mechanically— Somebody flings…

There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings, are. None may teach it anything, ‘T…

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…

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields— Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a…

There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they— Yet one—rejoices Flowers— And one—the Flowers abhor— The finest Honey—curdled— Is worthless—to the Bee—

There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables And is mute again— But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his breath away.…

There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself— A best Disgrace—a Brave Man feels— Acknowledged—of the Brave— One More—”Ye Blessed”—to be told— But that’s—Behind the Grave—

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—where an open eye— Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.

There is a morn by men unseen— Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May— And all day long, with dance and game, And gambol I may never name— Employ their holiday. Here to light measure, move the feet…

There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain— ‘Tis Pain’s Successor—When the Soul Has suffered all it can— A Drowsiness—diffuses— A Dimness like a Fog Envelops Consciousness— As Mists—obliterate a Crag. The Surgeon—does not blanch—at pain His…