A bee
staggers out
    of the peony.

Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”

54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

1277

While we were fearing it, it came—
But came with less of fear
Because that fearing it so long
Had almost made it fair—

There is a Fitting—a Dismay—
A Fitting—a Despair
’Tis harder knowing it is Due
Than knowing it is Here.

They Trying on the Utmost
The Morning it is new
Is Terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

one drink illuminated by candlelight
you sit across from me
and talk and talk
but your voice is in a low whisper
you don't want anyone
to overhear your pitiful excuses
you scold me
then feel bad
the red rose you gave me
when we first sat down
now sits awkwardly
on the small table

two drinks illuminated by candlelight
you beg me to say something
my mouth is closed
only open to the liquor
"you're acting ridiculous"
I don't respond
I ask the waiter
for another

three drinks illuminated by candlelight
I begin to envy the rose
it looks beautiful
there is no mirror
but I am ugly
I take the rose
and peel the green coat off
then the petals
until it's ugly
as ugly as I feel

four drinks illuminated by candlelight
you stand up
put on your jacket
"where are you going"
you don't answer
I watch you walk away
you don't turn around
you don't say goodbye

five drinks illuminated by candlelight
the glass is half full
the glass is half empty
the drink is gone
down into the pit
of my stomach
the seat
across from me
is empty
i toast the invisible man
he smiles

six drinks illuminated by candlelight
i don't know
why i'm sad
i just know
i feel sad
i sit
i say nothing
the glasses are scattered
on the table
my mind is muddled
my brain
is in pieces
i stand
i sit
i stand
i leave

If my eyes are loaded guns than
I have to be very careful
who I look at
Destruction
is a luxury
I can afford

I will live forever
because I die everyday
I want it like that

Examining,
yielding to breaking
it means

I wanted a man's face looking into the jaws and throat
     of life
With something proud on his face, so proud no smash
     of the jaws,
No gulp of the throat leaves the face in the end
With anything else than the old proud look:
          Even to the finish, dumped in the dust,
          Lost among the used-up cinders,
          This face, men would say, is a flash,
          Is laid on bones taken from the ribs of the earth,
          Ready for the hammers of changing, changing years,
          Ready for the sleeping, sleeping years of silence.
          Ready for the dust and fire and wind.
I wanted this face and I saw it today in an Aztec mask.
A cry out of storm and dark, a red yell and a purple prayer,
A beaten shape of ashes
               waiting the sunrise or night,
               something or nothing,
               proud-mouthed,
               proud-eyed gambler.