A Dying Tiger - moaned for Drink -
I hunted all the Sand -
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand -
His Mighty Balls - in death were thick -
But searching - I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water - and of me -
'Twas not my blame - who sped too slow -
'Twas not his blame - who died
While I was reaching him -
But 'twas - the fact that He was dead.
One Anguish - in a Crowd -
A minor thing - it sounds -
And yet, unto the single Doe
Attempted - of the Hounds
'Tis Terror as consummate
As Legions of Alarm
Did leap, full flanked, upon the Host -
'Tis Units - make the Swarm -
A small Leech - on the Vitals -
The sliver, in the Lung -
A leakage in an Artery -
Are scarce accounted - Harms -
But mighty - by relation
To that Repealless thing -
A Being - impotent to stop -
When once it has begun.
My period had come for Prayer -
No other Art - would do -
My Tactics missed a rudiment -
Creator - Was it you?
God grows above - so those who pray
Horizons - must ascend -
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend -
His House was not - no sign had He -
By Chimney - nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence -
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a Settler -
Were all that I could see -
Infinitude - Had'st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended -
Creation stopped - for Me -
But awed beyond my errand -
I worshipped - did not "pray".
It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation -
But large - serene -
Burned on - until through Dissolution -
It failed from Men -
I could not deem these Planetary forces
Annulled -
But suffered an Exchange of Territory -
Or World.
It knew no Medicine -
It was not Sickness - then -
Nor any need of Surgery -
And therefore - 'twas not Pain -
It moved away the Cheeks -
A Dimple at a time -
And left the Profile - plainer -
And in the place of Bloom
It left the little Tint
That never had a Name -
You've seen it on a Cast's face -
Was Paradise - to blame -
If momently ajar -
Temerity - drew near -
And sickened - ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?
She hideth Her the last -
And is the first, to rise -
Her Night doth hardly recompense
The Closing of Her eyes -
She doth Her Purple Work -
And putteth Her away
In low apartments in the Sod -
As Worthily as We.
To imitate her life
As possible would be
As Brew from Our imperfect Mints,
The Julep - of the Bee.
The Brain, within it's Groove
Runs evenly - and true -
But let a Splinter swerve -
'Twere easier for You -
To put the Waters back -
When Floods have slit the Hills -
And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves -
And shoved away - the Mills.
Trust in the Unexpected -
By this - was William Kidd
Persuaded of the Buried Gold -
As One had testified -
Through this - the old Philosopher -
His Talismanic Stone
Discerned - still withholden
To effort undivine -
'Twas this - allured Columbus -
When Genoa - withdrew
Before an Apparition
Baptized America -
The Same - afflicted Thomas -
When Deity pronounced
'Twas blesseder - the seeing not -
Provided it believed.
The Black Berry - wears a Thorn in his side -
But no Man heard Him cry -
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridge - and to Boy -
He sometimes holds upon the Fence -
Or struggles to a Tree -
Or clasps a Rock, with both His Hands -
But not for Sympathy -
We - tell a Hurt - to cool it -
This Mourner - to the Sky
A little further reaches - instead -
Brave Black Berry.
One Crucifixion is recorded - only -
How many be
Is not affirmed of Mathematics -
Or History -
One Calvary - exhibited to Stranger -
As many be
As Persons - or Peninsulas -
Gethsemane -
Is but a Province - in the Being's Centre -
Judea -
For Journey - or Crusade's Achieving -
Too near -
Our Lord - indeed - made Compound Witness -
And yet -
There's newer - nearer Crucifixion
Than That.