767

To offer brave assistance
To Lives that stand alone—
When One has failed to stop them—
Is Human—but Divine

To lend an Ample Sinew
Unto a Nameless Man—
Whose Homely Benediction
No other—stopped to earn—

1774

Too happy Time dissolves itself
And leaves no remnant by—
’Tis Anguish not a Feather hath
Or too much weight to fly—

911

Too little way the House must lie
From every Human Heart
That holds in undisputed Lease
A white inhabitant—

Too narrow is the Right between—
Too imminent the chance—
Each Consciousness must emigrate
And lose its neighbor once—

490

To One denied the drink
To tell what Water is
Would be acuter, would it not
Than letting Him surmise?

To lead Him to the Well
And let Him hear it drip
Remind Him, would it not, somewhat
Of His condemned lip?

1013

Too scanty ’twas to die for you,
The merest Greek could that.
The living, Sweet, is costlier—
I offer even that—

The Dying, is a trifle, past,
But living, this include
The dying multifold—without
The Respite to be dead.

1401

To own a Susan of my own
Is of itself a Bliss—
Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord,
Continue me in this!

855

To own the Art within the Soul
The Soul to entertain
With Silence as a Company
And Festival maintain

Is an unfurnished Circumstance
Possession is to One
As an Estate perpetual
Or a reduceless Mine.

1247

To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This—would be Poetry—

Or Love—the two coeval come—
We both and neither prove—
Experience either and consume—
For None see God and live—

527

To put this World down, like a Bundle—
And walk steady, away,
Requires Energy—possibly Agony—
’Tis the Scarlet way

Trodden with straight renunciation
By the Son of God—
Later, his faint Confederates
Justify the Road—

Flavors of that old Crucifixion—
Filaments of Bloom, Pontius Pilate sowed—
Strong Clusters, from Barabbas’ Tomb—

Sacrament, Saints partook before us—
Patent, every drop,
With the Brand of the Gentile Drinker
Who indorsed the Cup—

1568

To see her is a Picture—
To hear her is a Tune—
To know her an Intemperance
As innocent as June—
To know her not—Affliction—
To own her for a Friend
A warmth as near as if the Sun
Were shining in your Hand.

1472

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie—
True Poems flee—

1700

To tell the Beauty would decrease
To state the Spell demean—
There is a syllable-less Sea
Of which it is the sign—
My will endeavors for its word
And fails, but entertains
A Rapture as of Legacies—
Of introspective Mines—

1573

To the bright east she flies,
Brothers of Paradise
Remit her home,
Without a change of wings,
Or Love’s convenient things,
Enticed to come.

Fashioning what she is,
Fathoming what she was,
We deem we dream—
And that dissolves the days
Through which existence strays
Homeless at home.

1701

To their apartment deep
No ribaldry may creep
Untumbled this abode
By any man but God—

1402

To the stanch Dust
We safe commit thee—
Tongue if it hath,
Inviolate to thee—
Silence—denote—
And Sanctity—enforce thee—
Passenger—of Infinity—

830

To this World she returned.
But with a tinge of that—
A Compound manner,
As a Sod
Espoused a Violet,
That chiefer to the Skies
Than to himself, allied,
Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust,
And half of Day, the Bride.

1617

To try to speak, and miss the way
And ask it of the Tears,
Is Gratitude’s sweet poverty,
The Tatters that he wears—

A better Coat if he possessed
Would help him to conceal,
Not subjugate, the Mutineer
Whose title is “the Soul.”

1389

Touch lightly Nature’s sweet Guitar
Unless thou know’st the Tune
Or every Bird will point at thee
Because a Bard too soon—

1070

To undertake is to achieve
Be Undertaking blent
With fortitude of obstacle
And toward encouragement

That fine Suspicion, Natures must
Permitted to revere
Departed Standards and the few
Criterion Sources here

57

To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!

781

To wait an Hour—is long—
If Love be just beyond—
To wait Eternity—is short—
If Love reward the end—

1095

To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights,
What must the Midnights—be!

1559

Tried always and Condemned by thee
Permit me this reprieve
That dying I may earn the look
For which I cease to live—

455

Triumph—may be of several kinds—
There’s Triumph in the Room
When that Old Imperator—Death—
By Faith

1020

Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met Somebody’s little Boy
Asked him his name—He lisped me “Trotwood”—
Lady, did He belong to thee?

Would it comfort—to know I met him—
And that He didn’t look afraid?
I couldn’t weep—for so many smiling
New Acquaintance—this Baby made—

1161

Trust adjust her “Peradventure”—
Phantoms entered “and not you.”

555

Trust in the Unexpected—
By this—was William Kidd
Persuaded of the Buried Gold—
As One had testified—

Through this—the old Philosopher—
His Talismanic Stone
Discernéd—still withholden
To effort undivine—

’Twas this—allured Columbus—
When Genoa—withdrew
Before an Apparition
Baptized America—

The Same—afflicted Thomas—
When Deity assured
’Twas better—the perceiving not—
Provided it believed—

1369

Trusty as the stars
Who quit their shining working
Prompt as when I lit them
In Genesis’ new house,
Durable as dawn
Whose antiquated blossom
Makes a world’s suspense
Perish and rejoice.

836

Truth—is as old as God—
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity—

And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.

625

’Twas a long Parting—but the time
For Interview—had Come—
Before the Judgment Seat of God—
The last—and second time

These Fleshless Lovers met—
A Heaven in a Gaze—
A Heaven of Heavens—the Privilege
Of one another’s Eyes—

No Lifetime—on Them—
Appareled as the new
Unborn—except They had beheld—
Born infiniter—now—

Was Bridal—e’er like This?
A Paradise—the Host—
And Cherubim—and Seraphim—
The unobtrusive Guest—

973

’Twas awkward, but it fitted me—
An Ancient fashioned Heart—
Its only lore—its Steadfastness—
In Change—unerudite—

It only moved as do the Suns—
For merit of Return—
Or Birds—confirmed perpetual
By Alternating Zone—

I only have it not Tonight
In its established place—
For technicality of Death—
Omitted in the Lease—

1703

’Twas comfort in her Dying Room
To hear the living Clock—
A short relief to have the wind
Walk boldly up and knock—
Diversion from the Dying Theme
To hear the children play—
But wrong the more
That these could live
And this of ours must die.

948

’Twas Crisis—All the length had passed—
That dull—benumbing time
There is in Fever or Event—
And now the Chance had come—

The instant holding in its claw
The privilege to live
Or warrant to report the Soul
The other side the Grave.

The Muscles grappled as with leads
That would not let the Will—
The Spirit shook the Adamant—
But could not make it feel.

The Second poised—debated—shot—
Another had begun—
And simultaneously, a Soul
Escaped the House unseen—

1188

’Twas fighting for his Life he was—
That sort accomplish well—
The Ordnance of Vitality
Is frugal of its Ball.

It aims once—kills once—conquers once—
There is no second War
In that Campaign inscrutable
Of the Interior.

1756

’Twas here my summer paused
What ripeness after then
To other scene or other soul
My sentence had begun.

To winter to remove
With winter to abide
Go manacle your icicle
Against your Tropic Bride.

445

’Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms—
It had the Tassels on—

I thought how yellow it would look—
When Richard went to mill—
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how Red—Apples wedged
The Stubble’s joints between—
And the Carts stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in—

I wondered which would miss me, least,
And when Thanksgiving, came,
If Father’d multiply the plates—
To make an even Sum—

And would it blur the Christmas glee
My Stocking hang too high
For any Santa Claus to reach
The Altitude of me—

But this sort, grieved myself,
And so, I thought the other way,
How just this time, some perfect year—
Themself, should come to me—

1276

’Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came—
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home—
’Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps esoteric Time.

414

’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem—
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke—
And let you from a Dream—

As if a Goblin with a Gauge—
Kept measuring the Hours—
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws—

And not a Sinew—stirred—could help,
And sense was setting numb—
When God—remembered—and the Fiend
Let go, then, Overcome—

As if your Sentence stood—pronounced—
And you were frozen led
From Dungeon’s luxury of Doubt
To Gibbets, and the Dead—

And when the Film had stitched your eyes
A Creature gasped “Reprieve”!
Which Anguish was the utterest—then—
To perish, or to live?

394

’Twas Love—not me—
Oh punish—pray—
The Real one died for Thee—
Just Him—not me—

Such Guilt—to love Thee—most!
Doom it beyond the Rest—
Forgive it—last—
’Twas base as Jesus—most!

Let Justice not mistake—
We Two—looked so alike—
Which was the Guilty Sake—
’Twas Love’s—Now Strike!

1028

’Twas my one Glory—
Let it be
Remembered
I was owned of Thee—

107

’Twas such a little—little boat
That toddled down the bay!
’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea
That beckoned it away!

’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the Coast—
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!

344

’Twas the old—road—through pain—
That unfrequented—one—
With many a turn—and thorn—
That stops—at Heaven—

This—was the Town—she passed—
There—where she—rested—last—
Then—stepped more fast—
The little tracks—close prest—
Then—not so swift—
Slow—slow—as feet did weary—grow—
Then—stopped—no other track!

Wait! Look! Her little Book—
The leaf—at love—turned back—
Her very Hat—
And this worn shoe just fits the track—
Herself—though—fled!

Another bed—a short one—
Women make—tonight—
In Chambers bright—
Too out of sight—though—
For our hoarse Good Night—
To touch her Head!

519

’Twas warm—at first—like Us—
Until there crept upon
A Chill—like frost upon a Glass—
Till all the scene—be gone.

The Forehead copied Stone—
The Fingers grew too cold
To ache—and like a Skater’s Brook—
The busy eyes—congealed—

It straightened—that was all—
It crowded Cold to Cold—
It multiplied indifference—
As Pride were all it could—

And even when with Cords—
’Twas lowered, like a Weight—
It made no Signal, nor demurred,
But dropped like Adamant.

846

Twice had Summer her fair Verdure
Proffered to the Plain—
Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture
On the Rivers been—

Two full Autumns for the Squirrel
Bounteous prepared—
Nature, Had’st thou not a Berry
For thy wandering Bird?

533

Two butterflies went out at Noon—
And waltzed upon a Farm—
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested, on a Beam—

And then—together bore away
Upon a shining Sea—
Though never yet, in any Port—
Their coming, mentioned—be—

If spoken by the distant Bird—
If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman—
No notice—was—to me—

1295

Two Lengths has every Day—
Its absolute extent
And Area superior
By Hope or Horror lent—

Eternity will be
Velocity or Pause
At Fundamental Signals
From Fundamental Laws.

To die is not to go—
On Doom’s consummate Chart
No Territory new is staked—
Remain thou as thou art.

201

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar—
Until the morning sun—
When One—turned smiling to the land—
Oh God! the Other One!

The stray ships—passing—
Spied a face—
Upon the waters borne—
With eyes in death—still begging raised—
And hands—beseeching—thrown!

933

Two Travellers perishing in Snow
The Forests as they froze
Together heard them strengthening
Each other with the words

That Heaven if Heaven—must contain
What Either left behind
And then the cheer too solemn grew
For language, and the wind

Long steps across the features took
That Love had touched the Morn
With reverential Hyacinth—
The taleless Days went on

Till Mystery impatient drew
And those They left behind
Led absent, were procured of Heaven
As Those first furnished, said—

682

’Twould ease—a Butterfly—
Elate—a Bee—
Thou’rt neither—
Neither—thy capacity—

But, Blossom, were I,
I would rather be
Thy moment
Than a Bee’s Eternity—

Content of fading
Is enough for me—
Fade I unto Divinity—

And Dying—Lifetime—
Ample as the Eye—
Her least attention raise on me—

800

Two—were immortal twice—
The privilege of few—
Eternity—obtained—in Time—
Reversed Divinity—

That our ignoble Eyes
The quality conceive
Of Paradise superlative—
Through their Comparative.