I've seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room - In search of Something - as it seemed - Then Cloudier become - And then - obscure with Fog - And then - be soldered down Without disclosing what it be 'Twere blessed to have seen.
'Tis One by One - the Father counts - And then a Tract between Set Cypherless - to teach the Eye The Value of it's Ten - Until the peevish Student Acquire the Quick of Skill - Then Numerals are dowered back - Adorning all the Rule -
'Tis mostly Slate and Pencil - And Darkness on the School Distracts the Children's fingers - Still the Eternal Rule
Regards least Cypherer alike With Leader of the Band - And every separate Urchin's Sum - Is fashioned for his hand.
We see - Comparatively - The Thing so towering high We could not grasp it's segment Unaided - Yesterday - This Morning's finer Verdict - Makes scarcely worth the toil - A furrow - Our Cordillera - Our Apennine - a knoll -
Perhaps 'tis kindly - done us - The Anguish - and the loss - The wrenching - for His Firmament The Thing belonged to us -
To spare these Striding Spirits Some Morning of Chagrin - The waking in a Gnat's - embrace - Our Giants - further on.
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.
I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen - Some Polar Expiation - An Omen in the Bone Of Death's tremendous nearness - I probed Retrieveless things My Duplicate - to borrow - A Haggard Comfort springs
From the belief that Somewhere - Within the Clutch of Thought - There dwells one other Creature Of Heavenly Love - forgot -
I plucked at our Partition - As One should pry the Walls - Between Himself - and Horror's Twin - Within Opposing Cells -
I almost strove to clasp his Hand, Such Luxury - it grew - That as Myself - could pity Him - He - too - could pity me.
We dream - it is good we are dreaming - It would hurt us - were we awake - But since it is playing - kill us, And we are playing - shriek - What harm? Men die - externally - It is a truth - of Blood - But we - are dying in Drama - And Drama - is never dead -
Cautious - We jar each other - And either - open the eyes - Lest the Phantasm - prove the Mistake - And the livid Surprise
Cool us to Shafts of Granite - With just an age - and name - And perhaps a latin inscription - It's prudenter - to dream.
You cannot put a Fire out - A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan - Upon the slowest night - You cannot fold a Flood - And put it in a Drawer - Because the Winds would find it out - And tell your Cedar Floor.
I'm sorry for the Dead - Today - It's such congenial times Old neighbors have at fences - It's time o'year for Hay, And Broad - Sunburned Acquaintance Discourse between the Toil - And laugh, a homely species That makes the Fences smile -
It seems so straight to lie away From all of the noise of Fields - The Busy Carts - the fragrant Cocks - The Mower's Metre - Steals -
A Trouble lest they're homesick - Those Farmers - and their Wives - Set separate from the Farming - And all the Neighbor's lives -
A Wonder if the Sepulchre Dont feel a lonesome way - When Men - and Boys - and Carts - and June, Go down the Fields to "Hay".
Mine - by the Right of the White Election! Mine - by the Royal Seal! Mine - by the Sign in the Scarlet prison - Bars - cannot conceal! Mine - here - in Vision - and in Veto! Mine - by the Grave's Repeal - Titled - Confirmed - Delirious Charter! Mine - while Ages steal!