I. Herself

To be a sweetness more desired than Spring;
A ****** beauty more acceptable
Than the wild rose-tree’s arch that crowns the fell;
To be an essence more environing
Than wine’s drained juice; a music ravishing
More than the passionate pulse of Philomel; -
To be all this ’neath one soft *****’s swell
That is the flower of life:—how strange a thing!

How strange a thing to be what Man can know
But as a sacred secret! Heaven’s own screen
Hides her soul’s purest depth and loveliest glow;
Closely withheld, as all things most unseen,—
The wave-bowered pearl, the heart-shaped seal of green
That flecks the snowdrop underneath the snow.


II. Her Love

She loves him; for her infinite soul is Love,
And he her lodestar. Passion in her is
A glass facing his fire, where the bright bliss
Is mirrored, and the heat returned. Yet move
That glass, a stranger’s amorous flame to prove,
And it shall turn, by instant contraries,
Ice to the moon; while her pure fire to his
For whom it burns, clings close i’ the heart’s alcove.

Lo! they are one. With wifely breast to breast
And circling arms, she welcomes all command
Of love,—her soul to answering ardours fann’d:
Yet as morn springs or twilight sinks to rest,
Ah! who shall say she deems not loveliest
The hour of sisterly sweet hand-in-hand?


III. Her Heaven

If to grow old in Heaven is to grow young,
(As the Seer saw and said,) then blest were he
With youth forevermore, whose heaven should be
True Woman, she whom these weak notes have sung.
Here and hereafter,—choir-strains of her tongue,—
Sky-spaces of her eyes,—sweet signs that flee
About her soul’s immediate sanctuary,—
Were Paradise all uttermost worlds among.

The sunrise blooms and withers on the hill
Like any hillflower; and the noblest troth
Dies here to dust. Yet shall Heaven’s promise clothe
Even yet those lovers who have cherished still
This test for love:—in every kiss sealed fast
To feel the first kiss and forebode the last.

an akin, crimsonshaded, thine Männlein whom walks, in flower fields of sunnysided, uppeth of meadows, reddish glay over the fabric of barefoot felt grass.
an akin Männlein, sherry of hope, lost in a positive o,
of tender disorientation,
a diving swim, into the ocean of flora.
as then cometh the blue rain, nutrition of soil.
  thee Earth-Mother whom weeps the Magnifique rays of joyful tears,
   cleansing our rooted hair of darkest, green leaves.
our happiness at ease, at rest, the Männlein guideth the path in plural lonliness.
aesthety' of sorrow, saddened laugh, glossing over us, as I,
  as me, myself and we, as a post raincloud rainbow.
  . . . beauty be christa, crystalled thy castle, her and herself. in our notioned, discovered a chrestomathy, in fairy dust the Männlein bathes,
   for the blind dea as a hearts passage.
  the dea, be love, being compassion,  companionated, traveled passenger alongside, the christa of vision, no matter the darkness eternal.
  Männleins, a plural loneliness, being happy, and to a'no less,
  nevertheless, and to a'no matter, shall be a metamorphism, into bonded singularity of two. never to become the dark, on a hill topped meadow field.
   eternity being Doe, the deer, a doubled horn in a forest, of no seareeds, no labyrinth of trees, a clear flower grass rag over a pure, moist soil, a livelyhood mud that is no longer faced darkened black.
   the Männlein walketh as two, together as ever, the red ray of fire, the meadow ray of soil, turned to our sun, the blind dea of the Earth-Mother,
   christa be Doe, a deer, we have seen the creation in words, phonetic.
    as we follow time, follow a nature, an adornment, shall we be as the Männlein?
    a mankind? an akin kind of human? our blind dea as compassion, an'n twey we have met, we shall, we may... we can be, must be the apostle of the deer, our spirit a Doe.
    The Männlein wanderer in a spring, atop the mountained hill, he be a hillflower itself, red as with Agape, deepeth his labyrinth'd heartcorner . . .
    so'th we have helped them found, an akin man'nkin, the allcreation, of dearest christa. so'th we have walked, where they have walked, in a sunnysided uppeth, yellowjacket meadows the field, barefooted on in grassy, wet soil, walked, along. as an Ardor of tin.