Opsai
Ż ociu 'l portier
salto de cią
scąrtelu
pąsso 'l balon
cąmbio su li fassis
cor
płntelu
tiro da fou
tirete sł
lasso stā l'arbitro
no stą fermāte
férmete
torno 'ndavou
e
pģ 'n ną te sos zą in opsai.
Exhilaration - is within -
There can no Outer Wine
So royally intoxicate
As that diviner Brand
The Soul achieves - Herself -
To drink - or set away
For Visiter - Or Sacrament -
'Tis not of Holiday
To stimulate a Man
Who hath the Ample Rhine
Within his Closet - Best you can
Exhale in offering.
For Death - or rather
For the Things 'twould buy -
This - put away
Life's Opportunity -
The Things that Death will buy
Are Room -
Escape from Circumstances -
And a Name -
With Gifts of Life
How Death's Gifts may compare -
We know not -
For the Rates - lie Here.
A Secret told -
Ceases to be a Secret - then -
A Secret - kept -
That - can appal but One -
Better of it - continual be afraid -
Than it -
And Whom you told it to - beside.
Of Course - I prayed -
And did God Care?
He cared as much as on the Air
A Bird - had stamped her foot -
And cried "Give Me" -
My Reason - Life -
I had not had - but for Yourself -
'Twere better Charity
To leave me in the Atom's Tomb -
Merry, and Nought, and gay, and numb -
Than this smart Misery.
The Angle of a Landscape -
That every time I wake -
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack -
Like a Venetian - waiting -
Accosts my open eye -
Is just a Bough of Apples -
Held slanting, in the Sky -
The Pattern of a Chimney -
The Forehead of a Hill -
Sometimes - a Vane's Forefinger -
But that's - Occasional -
The Seasons - shift - my Picture -
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake - to find no - Emeralds -
Then - Diamonds - which the Snow
From Polar Caskets - fetched me -
The Chimney - and the Hill -
And just the Steeple's finger -
These - never stir at all.
I'm saying every day
"If I should be a Queen, tomorrow" -
I'd do this way -
And so I deck, a little,
If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious -
With "This was she -
Begged in the Market place -
Yesterday".
Court is a stately place -
I've heard men say -
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup -
That not too plain -
Rank - overtake me -
And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing - rather high -
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify -
Put from my simple speech all plain word -
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket - just,
And but for the Bee -
Not in all the Meadow -
One accost me -
Better to be ready -
Than did next morn
Meet me in Arragon -
My old Gown - on -
And the surprised Air
Rustics - wear -
Summoned - unexpectedly -
To Exeter.
A precious - mouldering pleasure - 'tis -
To meet an Antique Book -
In just the Dress his Century wore -
A privilege - I think -
His venerable Hand to take -
And warming in our own -
A passage back - or two - to make -
To Times when he - was young -
His quaint opinions - to inspect -
His thought to ascertain
On Them[e]s concern our mutual mind -
The Literature of Man -
What interested Scholars - most -
What Competitions ran -
When Plato - was a Certainty -
And Sophocles - a Man -
When Sappho - was a living Girl -
And Beatrice wore
The Gown that Dante - deified -
Facts Centuries before
He traverses - familiar -
As One should come to Town -
And tell you all your Dreams - were true -
He lived - where Dreams were born -
His presence is Enchantment -
You beg him not to go -
Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads
And tantalize - just so.
Heaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved -
The Site - of it - by Architect
Could not again be proved -
'Tis vast - as our Capacity -
As fair - as our idea -
To Him of adequate desire
No further 'tis, than Here.
She lay as if at play
Her life had leaped away -
Intending to return -
But not so soon -
Her merry Arms, half dropt -
As if for lull of sport -
An instant had forgot -
The Trick to start -
Her dancing Eyes - ajar -
As if their Owner were
Still sparkling through
For fun - at you -
Her Morning at the door -
Devising, I am sure -
To force her sleep -
So light - so deep.