It was too late for Man - But early, yet, for God - Creation - impotent to help - But Prayer - remained - Our Side - How excellent the Heaven - When Earth - cannot be had - How hospitable - then - the face Of our New Neighbor - God.
To know just how He suffered - would be dear - To know if any Human eyes were near To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze - Until it settle firm - on Paradise - To know if He was patient - part content - Was Dying as He thought - or different - Was it a pleasant Day to die - And did the Sunshine face His way -
What was His furthest mind - Of Home - or God - Or What the Distant say - At news that He ceased Human nature Such a Day -
And Wishes - Had He Any - Just His Sigh - Accented - Had been legible - to Me - And was He Confident until Ill fluttered out - in Everlasting Well -
And if He spoke - What name was Best - What first What One broke off with At the Drowsiest -
Was He afraid - or tranquil - Might He know How Conscious Consciousness - could grow - Till Love that was - and Love too best to be - Meet - and the Junction be Eternity.
I asked no other thing - No other - was denied - I offered Being - for it - The Mighty Merchant sneered - Brazil? He twirled a Button - Without a glance my way - "But - Madam - is there nothing else - That We can show - Today?
It makes no difference abroad - The Seasons - fit - the same - The Mornings blossom into Noons - And split their Pods of Flame - Wild flowers - kindle in the Woods - The Brooks slam - all the Day - No Black bird bates His Banjo - For passing Calvary -
Auto da Fe - and Judgment - Are nothing to the Bee - His separation from His Rose - To Him - sums Misery.
Glee - The great storm is over - Four - have recovered the Land - Forty - gone down together - Into the boiling Sand - Ring - for the scant Salvation - Toll - for the bonnie Souls - Neighbor - and friend - and Bridegroom - Spinning upon the Shoals -
How they will tell the Story - When Winter shake the Door - Till the Children urge - But the Forty - Did they - come back no more?
Then a silence - suffuse the Story - And a softness - the Teller's eye - And the Children - no further question - And only the Sea - reply.
At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow - The Width of Life - before it spreads Without a thing to do - It begs you give it Work - But just the placing Pins - Or humblest Patchwork - Children do - To still it's noisy Hands.
Dont put up my Thread & Needle - I'll begin to Sow When the Birds begin to whistle - Better stitches - so - These were bent - my sight got crooked - When my mind - is plain I'll do seams - a Queen's endeavor Would not blush to own -
Hems - too fine for Lady's tracing To the sightless Knot - Tucks - of dainty interspersion - Like a dotted Dot -
Leave my Needle in the furrow - Where I put it down - I can make the zigzag stitches Straight - when I am strong -
Till then - dreaming I am sowing Fetch the seam I missed - Closer - so I - at my sleeping - Still surmise I stitch.
I rose - because He sank - I thought it would be opposite - But when his power bent - My Soul grew straight. I cheered my fainting Prince - I sang firm - even - Chants - I helped his Film - with Hymn -
And when the Dews drew off That held his Forehead stiff - I gave him - Balm - for Balm -
I told him Best - must pass Through this low Arch of Flesh - No Casque so brave It spurn the Grave -
I told him Worlds I knew Where Emperors grew - Who recollected us If we were true -
And so with Thews of Hymn - And Sinew from within - And ways I knew not that I knew - till then - I lifted Him.
Our journey had advanced - Our feet were almost come To that odd Fork in Being's Road - Eternity - by Term - Our pace took sudden awe - Our feet - reluctant - led - Before - were Cities - but Between - The Forest of the Dead -
Retreat - was out of Hope - Behind - a Sealed Route - Eternity's Cool Flag - in front - And God - at every Gate.
In falling Timbers buried - There breathed a Man - Outside - the Spades - were plying - The Lungs - within - Could He - know - they sought Him - Could They - know - He breathed - Horrid Sand Partition - Neither - could be heard -
Never slacked the Diggers - But when Spades had done - Oh, Reward of Anguish, It was dying - Then.