You love the Lord - you cannot see - You write Him - every day - A little note - when you awake - And further in the Day, An Ample Letter - How you miss - And would delight to see - But then His House - is but a Step - And mine's - in Heaven - You see.
I was the slightest in the House - I took the smallest Room - At night, my little Lamp, and Book - And one Geranium - So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall - And just my Basket - Let me think - I'm sure - That this was all -
I never spoke - unless addressed - And then, 'twas brief and low - I could not bear to live - aloud - The Racket shamed me so -
And if it had not been so far - And any one I knew Were going - I had often thought How noteless - I could die.
To make One's Toilette - after Death Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still - That's easier - than Braid the Hair - And make the Bodice gay - When Eyes that fondled it are wrenched By Decalogues - away.
A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe - And golden hang - while farther up - The Maker's Ladders stop - And in the Orchard far below - You hear a Being - drop - A Wonderful - to feel the Sun Still toiling at the Cheek You thought was finished - Cool of eye, and critical of Work - He shifts the stem - a little - To give your Core - a look -
But solemnest - to know Your chance in Harvest moves A little nearer - Every Sun The Single - to some lives.
We Cover Thee - Sweet Face - Not that We tire of Thee - But that Thyself fatigue of Us - Remember - as Thou go - We follow Thee until Thou notice Us - no more - And then - reluctant - turn away To Con Thee oer and oer - And blame the scanty love We were Content to show - Augmented - Sweet - a Hundred fold - If Thou would'st take it - now.
The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low - Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow Where Tent by Tent - Her Universe Hung out it's Flags of Snow.
If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. Then while we live, in love lets so persever, That when we live no more, we may live ever.
"Why do I love" You, Sir? Because - The Wind does not require the Grass To answer - Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place. Because He knows - and Do not You - And We know not - Enough for Us The Wisdom it be so -
The Lightning - never asked an Eye Wherefore it shut - when He was by - Because He knows it cannot speak - And reasons not contained - Of Talk - There be - preferred by Daintier Folk -
The Sunrise - Sir - compelleth Me - Because He's Sunrise - and I see - Therefore - Then - I love Thee.
The Manner of it's Death When Certain it must die - 'Tis deemed a privilege to choose - 'Twas Major Andre's Way - When Choice of Life - is past - There yet remains a Love It's little Fate to stipulate -
How small in those who live -
The Miracle to teaze With Babble of the styles - How "they are Dying mostly - now" - And Customs at "St. James"!