How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights -
When People have put out the Lights
And everything that has an Inn
Closes the shutter and goes in -
How pompous the Wind must feel Noons
Stepping to incorporeal Tunes
Correcting errors of the sky
And clarifying scenery
How mighty the Wind must feel Morns
Encamping on a thousand Dawns -
Espousing each and spurning all
Then soaring to his Temple Tall.
How Human Nature dotes
On what it cant detect -
The moment that a Plot is plumbed
It's meaning is extinct -
Prospective is the friend
Reserved for us to know
When Constancy is clarified
Of Curiosity -
Of subjects that resist
Redoubtablest is this
Where go we -
Go we anywhere
Creation after this?
Crisis is sweet and yet the Heart
Upon the hither side
Has Dowers of Prospective
Surrendered by the Tried -
Inquire of the proudest Rose
Which rapture - she preferred
And she will tell you sighing -
The transport of the Bud.
A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds
That threatened it - did run
And crouched behind his Yellow Door
Was the defiant sun -
Some conflict with those upper friends
So genial in the main
That we deplore peculiarly
Their arrogant Campaign.
Unworthy of her Breast
Though by that scathing test
What Soul survive?
By her exacting light
How counterfeit the white
We chiefly have!
Sweet skepticism of the Heart -
That knows - and does not know -
And tosses like a Fleet of Balm -
Affronted by the snow -
Invites and then retards the truth
Lest Certainty be sere
Compared with the delicious throe
Of transport thrilled with Fear.
Shame is the shawl of Pink
In which we wrap the Soul
To keep it from infesting Eyes -
The elemental Veil
Which helpless Nature drops
When pushed upon a scene
Repugnant to her probity -
Shame is the tint divine.
Of Paradise' existence
All we know
Is the uncertain certainty -
But it's vicinity, infer,
By it's Bisecting Messenger.
I shall not murmur if at last
The ones I loved below
Permission have to understand
For what I shunned them so -
Divulging it would rest my Heart
But it would ravage their's -
Why, Katie, Treason has a Voice -
But mine - dispels - in Tears.
Could mortal Lip divine
The elemental Freight
Of a delivered Syllable
'Twould crumble with the weight -
The Prey of Unknown Zones -
The Pillage of the Sea
The Tabernacles of the Minds
That told the Truth to me.