1914 THE SINGLE HOUND POEMS OF A LIFETIME by Emily Dickinson şiElectronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R) DAK Upgraded Edition, Copyright 2000, DAK Industries 2000, Inc(R)şI {CONTENTS CONTENTS - Preface by Martha Dickinson Bianchi Prelude The Poems {PREFACE PREFACE - THE romantic friendship of my Aunt Emily Dickinson and her "Sister Sue" extended from girlhood until death. The first poem, dated, was sent in 1848, and probably the last word Aunt Emily ever wrote was her reply to a message from my Mother, "My answer is an unmitigated Yes, Sue!" During the last year of my Mother's life she read and re-read these poems, and innumerable letters, with increasing indecision as to the final disposition of her treasury. It eventually devolved upon me to choose between burning them or giving them to the lovers of my Aunt's peculiar genius. My hesitation was finally influenced by a note written in their early twenties, which I quote. - DEAR SUE: I like your praise because I know it knows. If I could make you and Austin proud some day a long way off, 'twould give me taller feet. EMILY. - This is my inspiration for a volume, offered as a memorial to thee love of these "Dear, dead Women." Also, it seemed but fitting to reveal a phase of Aunt Emily known only to us who dwelt with her behind the hedge; the fascinating, wilful woman, lightning and fragrance in one. I am told she is taught in colleges as a rare strange being; weird recluse, eating her heart out in morbid and unhappy longing, or a victim of unsatisfied passion; I have heard her called "an epigrammatic Walt Whitman" by a noted lecturer, and only recently a distinguished foreign critic pronounced her "the greatest mystic America has produced- second only to Ralph Waldo Emerson." But to her niece and nephews she was of fairy lineage, akin to the frost on the nursery pane in Winter or the humming bird or Midsummer; the realization of our vivid fancy, the confederate in every contraband desire, the very Spirit of the "Never, Never Land." She adored us, her three Child-Lovers, talked to us as if we were grown up and our opinions of importance, our secrets portentous, though always keeping herself our playmate with such art that she remains in my memory as a little girl herself. Once, when my brother Ned, as a child, stood looking up at the evening star, he said wistfully, "I want to go up there, Aunt Emily." "All right," she cried, "Go get your horse and buggy and we'll go tonight!" Often quoting afterward his grave rebuke of her levity- "Aunt Emily,- you can't go up there in a horse and buggy!" When we were happy she added her crumb, when we were ill all she had was ours, were we grieved, her indignation was hot against whoever or whatever had wounded us. I thought of her as the avenging angel then, her eyes smouldered so gloriously at our wrongs. One other charm was unique to her; her way of flitting like a shadow upon the hillside, a motion known to no other mortal. In the midst of one of our Eden-hours, she would fly at the sound of an intruder and was not- only the tick of the old clock left for our companioning. I was usually left with her while both families went to church on Sabbath mornings and well remember being escorted by her down to the cool hoarding cellar, past the wine closet to mysterious cupboard of her own, where she dealt me such lawless cake and other goodies, that even a child of four knew it for excess, sure to be followed by disaster later in the day. There was an unreal abandon about it all such as thrills the prodigality of dreaming. As we grew older her wit was our unconscious standard of others, her pitiless directness of thought our revelation, while her sweetness was like nothing but that of her own favorite jasmine flowers. Indeed she resembled the Cape Jasmine more than any mortal being. They two were the whitest Sisters, or flowers, Nature ever bore. Once let us get to her- past what Mr. Henry James calls "an archaic Irish servant," past our other faithful but prejudiced Aunt Lavinia, who gave us a plain cookey and advised us to "run home,"- once within the forbidden precincts of the "front part" of the old mansion, we had found our South-West passage and were transported, obstinate, oblivious. To water her plants with her tiny watering pot, to help her ice a loaf of plum cake for her Father's supper, to watch her check off the rich dark caramels she unfailingly kept on hand for us, to share her wickedness in skirmishing to avoid outsiders, or to connive in her intrigue to outwit the cat of perpetual unpopularity in her esteem,- what other joys could drag us from these? She put more excitement into the event of a dead fly than her neighbors got from a journey by stage-coach to Boston. If art is "exaggeration apropos," as Merimee claims, she was an incomparable artist at life. There was nothing forbidden us by her, in spite of which license we were as shy of troubling her, as gentle in our play with her, as if she had been Hans Anderson's little Snow Maiden and might melt before our eyes if misunderstood. {PREFACE ^line 20} Fascination was her element. It was my brother Ned, borne home against his will, screaming "I want a rich! I will see my Aunt Emily! I will have a rich!" who provided that dear Villain with a synonym for her own terms with Life. "A rich" was the desire of her heart, "a rich" was her instinctive claim, and she would not compromise. The poems here included were written on any chance slip of paper, sometimes the old plaid Quadrille, sometimes a gilt-edged sheet with a Paris mark, often a random scrap of commercial note from her Father's law office. Each of these is folded over, addressed merely "Sue," and sent by the first available hand. For though they lived side by side with only wide green lawn between, days and even weeks slipped by sometimes without their actual meeting. My Mother was blessedly busy in her home and Aunt Emily's light across the snow in the Winter gloaming, or burning late when she remained up all night, to protect her plants from chill, was often a mute greeting between them supplemented only by their written messages. There must have been a lure for the almost cloistered soul in the warmth of her only brother Austin's youthful home, and the radiant atmosphere of my Mother with her three children growing up about her. "Only Woman in the World," "Avalanche of Sun," "Sister of Ophir," she calls her. In these earlier days Aunt Emily often came over, most frequently in the evening, and always when Mr. Bowles, Mrs. Anthon of London, or some such cherished guest, was here. She played brilliantly upon the piano, and travestied the descriptive pieces popular at that period with as much skill as wit. One improvisation which she called the Devil was, by tradition, unparalleled. She had no idea of the passing of time when at the height of these frolics and not until my revered Grandfather appeared with his lantern, would the revel break off. Him she adored, feared, made fun of, and obeyed. "If Father is asleep on the sofa the house is full, though it were empty otherwise!" was one of her familiar exclamations. It could never be said of her, as she said of a prosaic friend, "He has the facts but not the phosphorescence of learning!" One evening when Dr. and Mrs. Holland had arrived unexpectedly to pass the night, having driven over from Northhampton in the Autumn dusk, my Grandmother, anxious for their every comfort, offered one solicitous suggestion after another, until Aunt Emily, always exasperated by repetition, cried- "O Mrs. Holland, don't you want to hear me say the Lord's prayer? Shouldn't you like me to repeat the Declaration of Independence? Shan't I recite the Ten Commandments?" It was in this mood that she once put four superfluous kittens on the fire-shovel and softly dropped them into the first convenient jar the cellar offered, her family being in church- her chosen time for iniquity. This especial jar happened to be full of pickle brine. The sequel was very awful; occurring when the austere Judge Otis P. Lord of Salem was visiting my Grandfather, and as in all such emergencies of detection she fled to her own room and turned the key; holding reproach at bay until she chose to come out and ignore it. In her innocent love of mystery and intrigue Aunt Emily reminds one of Stevenson. She would have played at "lantern bearers" with him, and given the stealthy countersign under her breath, as no other living urchin! She was "eternally preoccupied with death" as any of Pater's giant Florentines, but though the supernatural had the supreme hold on her imagination and conjecture, every lesser mystery was a panic and an ecstasy. If she could contrive to outwit domestic vigilance and smuggle a box of fresh-laid eggs to my Mother, on the sly, it savored to her of piracy and brigandage. She was averse to surveillance of every description and took pains to elude it in these little traffics of her heart as in the enigmas of her Being. "Give me liberty or give me death- but if you can, give me liberty!" was her frequent cry. She had a keen scent for the meanings hid beneath the goodly outside of diplomacy and watched for developments in home and foreign policies with surprising acumen. The Winter she was at Willard's, during her Father's Congressional career, she is said to have astonished his political friends by her insight and created quite a sensation by her wit, though the only story I recall now was of her saying to a prim old Chief Justice of the Supremest sort, when the plum pudding on fire was offered- "Oh Sir, may one eat of hell fire with impunity, here?" Physically timid at the least approach to a crisis in the day's event, her mind dared earth and heaven. That apocrypha and apocalypse met in her, explains her tendency so often mistaken for blasphemy by the superficial analyst. The advance and retreat of her thought, her transition from arch to demure, from elfin to angelic, from soaring to drowning, her inescapable sense of tragedy, her inimitable perception of comedy, her breathless reverence and unabashed invasion upon the intimate affairs of Deity and hearsay of the Bible, made her a comrade to mettle inspiration and dazzle rivalry. Unlike the dullard, brilliancy was no effort for her. She revelled in the wings of her mind,- I had almost said the fins too,- so universal was her identification with every form of life and element of being. She usually liked men better than women because they were more stimulating. I can see her yet, standing in the spacious upper hall a Summer afternoon, finger on lip, and hear her say, as the feminine callers took their departure- "Listen! Hear them kiss, the traitors!" To most women she was provoking puzzle. To her, in turn, most women were a form of triviality to be escaped when feasible. But stupidity had no sex with her and I equally well remember her spying down upon a stranger sent to call upon her by a mutual friend, and dismissing him unreceived after one glance from her window, remarking "His face is as handsome and as meaningless as the full moon." At another time she called me to peep at a new Professor recently come to the college, saying- "Look dear, he is pretty as a cloth Pink!" her mouth curling in derision as she uttered it and one hand motioning as if to throw the flower away. She had a dramatic way of throwing up her hands at the climax of a story or to punctuate one of her own flashes. It was entirely spontaneous, her spirit seemed merely playing through her body as the Aurora borealis through darkness. And since there is no portrait of Aunt Emily, may I be pardoned if I try to give an idea of her external likeness? It has been often told that she wore white exclusively. She has said herself, in one of her letters to an inquisitive friend who had never seen her and importuned for hint of her outward self,- that her eyes were the color of the sherry left in the glass by him to whom she wrote. Her hair was of that same warm bronze-chestnut hue that Titian immortalized, and she wore it parted on her brow and low in her neck but always half covered by a velvet snood of the same tint; such as the Venetian painters loved to add as a final grace to the portraits of their beloved and beautiful women. Her cheek was like the petal of the jasmine, a velvety white never touched by hint of color. Her red lips parted over very regular little teeth like the squirrels' and it was the rather long upper lip that gave to the mouth its asceticism, and betrayed the monastic tendency in her, of which she was probably quite unaware. If this combines nature and art and mysticism in one, too bewilderingly to reproduce any definite impression, it is the fault of that face,- as intimate in my memory as it is still in my dreams. In spite of an innate austerity of the senses, my Aunt had lovers, like Browning's roses- "all the way"- to the end; men of varied profession and attainment who wrote to her and came to see her, and whose letters she burned with a chivalry not all of them requited in kind. "Sister Sue" was her confidante and ally, from whose lips we heard many a hot or quaint tale when time had made them no perfidy. One of these in which we most delighted was of how Aunt Emily as a young lady, having been decorously driven to a funeral in Hadley, in the family barouche lined with cream-colored broadcloth, ran from the grave with a dashing cousin from Worcester, via a skittish black horse and worldly buggy, capping her infamy by returning through Sunderland and being in her room with the door locked when the family got home. Nothing would be more delicious to me than to repeat by name the list of those whom she bewitched. It included college boys, tutors, law students, the brothers of her girl friends,- several times their affianced bridegrooms even; and then the maturer friendships,- literary, Platonic, Plutonic; passages varying in intensity, and at least one passionate attachment whose tragedy was due to the integrity of the Lovers, who scrupled to take their bliss at another's cost. She was not daily-bread. She was star-dust. Her solitude made her and was part of her. Taken from her distant sky she must have become a creature as different as fallen meteor from pulsing star. One may ask of the Sphinx, if life would not have been dearer to her, lived as other women lived it? To have been, in essence, more as other women were? Or if, in so doing and so being, she would have missed that inordinate compulsion, that inquisitive comprehension that made her Emily Dickinson? It is to ask again the old riddle of genius against every-day happiness. Had life or love been able to dissuade her from that "eternal preoccupation with death" which thralled her- if she could have chosen- you urge, still unconvinced? But I feel that she could and did, and that nothing could have compensated her for the forfeit of that "single hound," her "own Identity." - MARTHA DICKINSON BIANCHI. {PRELUDE PRELUDE - One Sister have I in our house, And one a hedge away There's only one recorded But both belong to me. - One came the way that I came, And wore my last year's gown, The other, as a bird her nest, Builded our hearts among. - She did not sing as we did, It was a different tune, Herself to her a music- As Bumble-bee of June. - Today is far from childhood, But up and down the hills I held her hand the tighter, Which shortened all the miles. - {PRELUDE ^line 20} And still her hum the years among Deceives the Butterfly Still in her eye the Violets lie Mouldered this many May. - I split the dew but took the morn, I chose this single Star From out the wide night's numbers, Sue- forevermore! - -Emilie. {SINGLE_HOUND|I I. - ADVENTURE most unto itself The Soul condemned to be; Attended by a Single Hound- Its own Identity. {SINGLE_HOUND|II II. - THE Soul that hath a Guest, Doth seldom go abroad, Diviner Crowd at home Obliterate the need, And courtesy forbid A Host's departure, when Upon Himself be visiting The Emperor of Men! {SINGLE_HOUND|III III. - EXCEPT the smaller size, no Lives are round, These hurry to a sphere, and show, and end. The larger, slower grow, and later hang- The Summers of Hesperides are long. {SINGLE_HOUND|IV IV. - FAME is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate, Whose table once a Guest, but not The second time, is set. Whose crumbs the crows inspect, And with ironic caw Flap past it to the Farmer's corn; Men eat of it and die. {SINGLE_HOUND|V V. - THE right to perish might be thought An undisputed right, Attempt it, and the Universe upon the opposite Will concentrate its officers- You cannot even die, But Nature and Mankind must pause To pay you scrutiny. {SINGLE_HOUND|VI VI. - PERIL as a possession 'T is good to bear, Danger disintegrates satiety; There's Basis there Begets an awe, That searches Human Nature's creases As clean as Fire. {SINGLE_HOUND|VII VII. - WHEN Etna basks and purrs, Naples is more afraid Than when she shows her Garnet Tooth; Security is loud. {SINGLE_HOUND|VIII VIII. - REVERSE cannot befall that fine Prosperity Whose sources are interior. As soon Adversity A diamond overtake, In far Bolivian ground; Misfortune hath no implement Could mar it, if it found. {SINGLE_HOUND|IX IX. - TO be alive is power, Existence in itself, Without a further function, Omnipotence enough. - To be alive and Will- 'T is able as a God! The further of ourselves be what- Such being Finitude? {SINGLE_HOUND|X X. - WITCHCRAFT has not a pedigree, 'T is early as our breath, And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death. {SINGLE_HOUND|XI XI. - EXHILARATION is the Breeze That lifts us from the ground, And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found; Returns us not, but after time We soberly descend, A little newer for the term Upon enchanted ground. {SINGLE_HOUND|XII XII. - NO romance sold unto, Could so enthrall a man As the perusal of His individual one. 'T is fiction's, to dilute To plausibility Our novel, when 't is small enough To credit,- 't is n't true! {SINGLE_HOUND|XIII XIII. - IF what we could were what we would- Criterion be small; It is the Ultimate of talk The impotence to tell. {SINGLE_HOUND|XIV XIV. - PERCEPTION of an Object costs Precise the Object's loss. Perception in itself a gain Replying to its price; The Object Absolute is nought, Perception sets it fair, And then upbraids a Perfectness That situates so far. {SINGLE_HOUND|XV XV. - NO other can reduce Our mortal consequence, Like the remembering it be nought A period from hence. But contemplation for Contemporaneous nought Our single competition; Jehovah's estimate. {SINGLE_HOUND|XVI XVI. - THE blunder is to estimate,- "Eternity is Then," We say, as of a station. Meanwhile he is so near, He joins me in my ramble, Divides abode with me, No friend have I that so persists And this Eternity. {SINGLE_HOUND|XVII XVII. - MY Wheel is in the dark,- I cannot see a spoke, Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round. - My foot is on the tide- An unfrequented road, Yet have all roads A "clearing" at the end. - Some have resigned the Loom, Some in the busy tomb Find quaint employ, Some with new, stately feet Pass royal through the gate, Flinging the problem back at you and I. {SINGLE_HOUND|XVIII XVIII. - THERE is another Loneliness That many die without, Not want or friend occasions it, Or circumstances or lot. - But nature sometimes, sometimes thought, As whoso it befall Is richer than could be divulged By mortal numeral. {SINGLE_HOUND|XIX XIX. - SO gay a flower bereaved the mind As if it were a woe, Is Beauty an affliction, then? Tradition ought to know. {SINGLE_HOUND|XX XX. - GLORY is that bright tragic thing, That for an instant Means Dominion, Warms some poor name That never felt the sun, Gently replacing In oblivion. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXI XXI. - THE missing All prevented me From missing minor things. If nothing larger than a World's Departure from a hinge, Or Sun's extinction be observed, 'T was not so large that I Could lift my forehead from my work For curiosity. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXII XXII. - HIS mind, of man a secret makes, I meet him with a start, He carries a circumference In which I have no part, Or even if I deem I do- He otherwise may know. Impregnable to inquest, However neighborly. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXIII XXIII. - THE suburbs of a secret A strategist should keep, Better than on a dream intrude To scrutinize the sleep. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXIV XXIV. - THE difference between despair And fear, is like the one Between the instant of a wreck, And when the wreck has been. - Contented as the eye Upon the forehead of a Bust, That knows it cannot see. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXV XXV. - THERE is a solitude of space, A solitude of sea, A solitude of death, but these Society shall be, Compared with that profounder site, That polar privacy, A Soul admitted to Itself: Finite Infinity. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXVI XXVI. - THE props assist the house Until the house is built, And then the props withdraw- And adequate, erect, The house supports itself; Ceasing to recollect The auger and the carpenter. Just such a retrospect Hath the perfected life, A past of plank and nail, And slowness,- then the scaffolds drop- Affirming it a soul. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXVII XXVII. - THE gleam of an heroic act, Such strange illumination- The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagination! {SINGLE_HOUND|XXVIII XXVIII. - OF Death the sharpest function, That, just as we discern, The Excellence defies us; Securest gathered then The fruit perverse to plucking, But leaning to the sight With the ecstatic limit Of unobtained Delight. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXIX XXIX. - DOWN Time's quaint stream Without an oar, We are enforced to sail, Our Port- a secret- Our Perchance- a gale. What Skipper would Incur the risk, What Buccaneer would ride, Without a surety from the wind Or schedule of the tide? {SINGLE_HOUND|XXX XXX. - I BET with every Wind that blew, till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me and scuttle my Balloon! {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXI XXXI. - THE Future never spoke, Nor will he, like the Dumb, Reveal by sign or syllable Of his profound To-come. But when the news be ripe, Presents it in the Act- Forestalling preparation Escape or substitute. Indifferent to him The Dower as the Doom, His office but to execute Fate's Telegram to him. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXII XXXII. - TWO lengths has every day, Its absolute extent- And area superior By hope or heaven lent. Eternity will be Velocity, or pause, At fundamental signals From fundamental laws. To die, is not to go- On doom's consummate chart No territory new is staked, Remain thou as thou art. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXIII XXXIII. - THE Soul's superior instants Occur to Her alone, When friend and earth's occasion Have infinite withdrawn. - Or she, Herself, ascended To too remote a height, For lower recognition Than Her Omnipotent. - This mortal abolition Is seldom, but as fair As Apparition- subject To autocratic air. - Eternity's disclosure To favorites, a few, Of the Colossal substance Of immortality. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXIV XXXIV. - NATURE is what we see, The Hill, the Afternoon- Squirrel, Eclipse, the Bumble-bee, Nay- Nature is Heaven. - Nature is what we hear, The Bobolink, the Sea- Thunder, the Cricket- Nay,- Nature is Harmony. - Nature is what we know But have no art to say, So impotent our wisdom is To Her simplicity. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXV XXXV. - AH, Teneriffe! Retreating Mountain! Purples of Ages pause for you, Sunset reviews her Sapphire Regiment, Day drops you her red Adieu! - Still, clad in your mail of ices, Thigh of granite and thew of steel- Heedless, alike, of pomp or parting, Ah, Teneriffe! I'm kneeling still. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXVI XXXVI. - SHE died at play Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turk Upon a couch of flowers. Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill Yesterday and today, Her vestments as the silver fleece, Her countenance as spray. {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXVII XXXVII. - "MORNING" means "Milking" to the Farmer, Dawn to the Apennines- Dice to the Maid. "Morning" means just Chance to the Lover- Just Revelation to the Beloved. Epicures date a breakfast by it! Heroes a battle, The Miller a flood, Faint-going eyes their lapse From sighing, Faith, the Experiment of our Lord! {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXVIII XXXVIII. - A LITTLE madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown, Who ponders this tremendous scene- This whole experiment of green, As if it were his own! {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXIX XXXIX. - I CAN'T tell you, but you feel it- Nor can you tell me, Saints with vanished slate and pencil Solve our April day. - Sweeter than a vanished Frolic From a vanished Green! Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen Round a ledge of Dream! - Modest, let us walk among it, With our "faces veiled," As they say polite Archangels Do, in meeting God. - Not for me to prate about it, Not for you to say To some fashionable Lady- "Charming April Day!" - {SINGLE_HOUND|XXXIX ^line 20} Rather Heaven's "Peter Parley," By which, Children- slow- To sublimer recitations Are prepared to go! {SINGLE_HOUND|XL XL. - SOME Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie, The Day that a companion came- Or was obliged to die. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLI XLI. - LIKE Men and Women shadows walk Upon the hills today, With here and there a mighty bow, Or trailing courtesy To Neighbors, doubtless, of their own; Not quickened to perceive Minuter landscape, as Ourselves And Boroughs where we live. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLII XLII. - THE butterfly obtains But little sympathy, Though favorably mentioned In Entomology. Because he travels freely And wears a proper coat, The circumspect are certain That he is dissolute. Had he the homely scutcheon of modest Industry, 'T were fitter certifying for Immortality. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLIII XLIII. - BEAUTY crowds me till I die, Beauty, mercy have on me! But if I expire today, Let it be in sight of thee. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLIV XLIV. - WE spy the Forests and the Hills, The tents to Nature's Show, Mistake the outside for the in And mention what we saw. - Could Commentators on the sign Of Nature's Caravan Obtain "admission," as a child, Some Wednesday afternoon? {SINGLE_HOUND|XLV XLV. - I NEVER told the buried gold Upon the hill that lies, I saw the sun, his plunder done, Crouch low to guard his prize. - He stood as near, as stood you here, A pace had been between- Did but a snake bisect the brake, My life had forfeit been. - That was a wondrous booty, I hope 't was honest gained- Those were the finest ingots That ever kissed the spade. - Whether to keep the secret- Whether to reveal- Whether, while I ponder Kidd may sudden sail- - {SINGLE_HOUND|XLV ^line 20} Could a Shrewd advise me We might e'en divide- Should a Shrewd betray me- "Atropos" decide! {SINGLE_HOUND|XLVI XLVI. - THE largest fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men, An Occidental town, Rebuilt another morning To be again burned down. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLVII XLVII. - BLOOM upon the Mountain, stated, Blameless of a name. Efflorescence of a Sunset- Reproduced, the same. - Seed, had I, my purple sowing Should endow the Day, Not a tropic of the twilight Show itself away. - Who for tilling, to the Mountain Come, and disappear- Whose be Her renown, or fading, Witness, is not here. - While I state- the solemn petals Far as North and East, Far as South and West expanding, Culminate in rest. - {SINGLE_HOUND|XLVII ^line 20} And the Mountain to the Evening Fit His countenance, Indicating by no muscle The Experience. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLVIII XLVIII. - MARCH is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy. {SINGLE_HOUND|XLIX XLIX. - THE Duties of the Wind are few- To cast the Ships at sea, Establish March, The Floods escort, And usher Liberty. {SINGLE_HOUND|L L. - THE Winds drew off Like hungry dogs Defeated of a bone. Through fissures in Volcanic cloud The yellow lightning shown. The trees held up Their mangled limbs Like animals in pain, When Nature falls Upon herself, Beware an Austrian! {SINGLE_HOUND|LI LI. - I THINK that the root of the Wind is Water, It would not sound so deep Were it a firmamental product, Airs no Oceans keep- Mediterranean intonations, To a Current's ear There is a maritime conviction In the atmosphere. {SINGLE_HOUND|LII LII. - SO, from the mould, Scarlet and gold Many a Bulb will rise, Hidden away cunningly From sagacious eyes. So, from cocoon Many a Worm Leap so Highland gay, Peasants like me- Peasants like thee, Gaze perplexedly. {SINGLE_HOUND|LIII LIII. - THE long sigh of the Frog Upon a Summer's day, Enacts intoxication Upon the revery. But his receding swell Substantiates a peace, That makes the ear inordinate For corporal release. {SINGLE_HOUND|LIV LIV. - A CAP of lead across the sky Was tight and surly drawn, We could not find the mighty Face, The Figure was withdrawn. - A chill came up as from a shaft, Our noon became a well, A Thunder storm combines the charms Of Winter and of Hell. {SINGLE_HOUND|LV LV. - I SEND two Sunsets- Day and I in competition ran, I finished two, and several stars, While He was making one. - His own is ampler- But, as I was saying to a friend, Mine is the more convenient To carry in the hand. {SINGLE_HOUND|LVI LVI. - OF this is Day composed- A morning and a noon, A Revelry unspeakable And then a gay Unknown; Whose Pomps allure and spurn- And dower and deprive, And penury for glory Remedilessly leave. {SINGLE_HOUND|LVII LVII. - THE Hills erect their purple heads, The Rivers lean to see- Yet Man has not, of all the throng, A curiosity. {SINGLE_HOUND|LVIII LVIII. - LIGHTLY stepped a yellow star To its lofty place, Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral face. All of evening softly lit As an astral hall- "Father," I observed to Heaven, "You are punctual." {SINGLE_HOUND|LIX LIX. - THE Moon upon her fluent route Defiant of a road, The stars Etruscan argument, Substantiate a God. If Aims impel these Astral Ones, The Ones allowed to know, Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now. {SINGLE_HOUND|LX LX. - LIKE some old fashioned miracle When Summertime is done, Seems Summer's recollection And the affairs of June. - As infinite tradition As Cinderella's bays, Or little John of Lincoln Green, Or Bluebeard's galleries. - Her Bees have a fictitious hum, Her Blossoms, like a dream, Elate- until we almost weep So plausible they seem. - Her Memories like strains- review- When Orchestra is dumb, The Violin in baize replaced And Ear and Heaven numb. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXI LXI. - GLOWING is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak! - Better, as the Daisy From the Summer hill, Vanish unrecorded, Save by tearful Rill, - Save by loving Sunrise Looking for her face, Save by feet unnumbered Pausing at the place! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXII LXII. - FOREVER cherished by the tree, Whose apple Winter warm, Enticed to breakfast from the sky Two Gabriels yestermorn; They registered in Nature's book As Robin- Sire and Son, But angels have that modest way To screen them from renown. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXIII LXIII. - THE Ones that disappeared are back, The Phoebe and the Crow, Precisely as in March is heard The curtness of the Jay- Be this an Autumn or a Spring? My wisdom loses way, One side of me the nuts are ripe- The other side is May. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXIV LXIV. - THOSE final Creatures,- who they are- That, faithful to the close, Administer her ecstasy, But just the Summer knows. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXV LXV. - SUMMER begins to have the look, Peruser of enchanting Book Reluctantly, but sure, perceives- A gain upon the backward leaves. - Autumn begins to be inferred By millinery of the cloud, Or deeper color in the shawl That wraps the everlasting hill. - The eye begins its avarice, A meditation chastens speech, Some Dyer of a distant tree Resumes his gaudy industry. - Conclusion is the course of all, Almost to be perennial, And then elude stability Recalls to immortality. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXVI LXVI. - A PROMPT, executive Bird is the Jay, Bold as a Bailiff's hymn, Brittle and brief in quality- Warrant in every line; Sitting a bough like a Brigadier, Confident and straight, Much is the mien Of him in March As a Magistrate. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXVII LXVII. - LIKE brooms of steel The Snow and Wind Had swept the Winter Street, The House was hooked, The Sun sent out Faint Deputies of heat- Where rode the Bird The Silence tied His ample, plodding Steed, The Apple in the cellar snug Was all the one that played. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXVIII LXVIII. - THESE are the days that Reindeer love And pranks the Northern star, This is the Sun's objective And Finland of the year. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXIX LXIX. - FOLLOW wise Orion Till you lose your eye, Dazzlingly decamping He is just as high. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXX LXX. - IN Winter, in my room, I came upon a worm, Pink, lank, and warm. But as he was a worm And worms presume, Not quite with him at home- Secured him by a string To something neighboring, And went along. - A trifle afterward A thing occurred, I'd not believe it if I heard- But state with creeping blood; A snake, with mottles rare, Surveyed my chamber floor, In feature as the worm before, But ringed with power. The very string With which I tied him, too, {SINGLE_HOUND|LXX ^line 20} When he was mean and new, That string was there. - I shrank- "How fair you are!" Propitiation's claw- "Afraid," he hissed, "Of me?" "No cordiality?" He fathomed me. Then, to a rhythm slim Secreted in his form, As patterns swim, Projected him. - That time I flew, Both eyes his way, Lest he pursue- Nor ever ceased to run, Till, in a distant town, Towns on from mine- {SINGLE_HOUND|LXX ^line 40} I sat me down; This was a dream. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXI LXXI. - NOT any sunny tone From any fervent zone Finds entrance there. Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature's home, And Robins near, Than a stupendous Tomb Proclaiming to the gloom How dead we are. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXII LXXII. - FOR Death,- or rather For the things 't will buy, These put away Life's opportunity. The things that Death will buy Are Room,- Escape From Circumstances, And a Name. How gifts of Life With Death's gifts will compare, We know not- For the rates stop Here. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXIII LXXIII. - DROPPED into the Ether Acre! Wearing the sod gown- Bonnet of Everlasting laces- Brooch frozen on! Horses of blonde- And coach of silver, Baggage a strapped Pearl! Journey of Down And whip of Diamond- Riding to meet the Earl! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXIV LXXIV. - THIS quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies, And Lads and Girls; Was laughter and ability and sighing, And frocks and curls. This passive place a Summer's nimble mansion, Where Bloom and Bees Fulfilled their Oriental Circuit, Then ceased like these. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXV LXXV. - 'T WAS comfort in her dying room To hear the living clock, A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock, Diversion from the dying theme To hear the children play, But wrong, the mere That these could live,- And This of ours must die! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXVI LXXVI. - TOO cold is this To warm with sun, Too stiff to bended be, To joint this agate were a feat Outstaring masonry. How went the agile kernel out- Contusion of the husk, Nor rip, nor wrinkle indicate,- But just an Asterisk. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXVII LXXVII. - I WATCHED her face to see which way She took the awful news, Whether she died before she heard- Or in protracted bruise Remained a few short years with us, Each heavier than the last- A further afternoon to fail, As Flower at fall of Frost. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXVIII LXXVIII. - TODAY or this noon She dwelt so close, I almost touched her; Tonight she lies Past neighborhood- And bough and steeple- Now past surmise. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXIX LXXIX. - I SEE thee better in the dark, I do not need a light. The love of thee a prism be Excelling violet. - I see thee better for the years That hunch themselves between, The miner's lamp sufficient be To nullify the mine. - And in the grave I see thee best- Its little panels be A-glow, all ruddy with the light I held so high for thee! - What need of day to those whose dark Hath so surpassing sun, It seem it be continually At the meridian? {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXX LXXX. - LOW at my problem bending, Another problem comes, Larger than mine, serener, Involving statelier sums; I check my busy pencil, My ciphers slip away, Wherefore, my baffled fingers, Time Eternity? {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXI LXXXI. - IF pain for peace prepares, Lo the "Augustan" years Our feet await! - If Springs from Winter rise, Can the Anemone's Be reckoned up? - If night stands first, then noon, To gird us for the sun, What gaze- - When, from a thousand skies, On our developed eyes Noons blaze! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXII LXXXII. - I FIT for them, I seek the dark till I am thorough fit. The labor is a solemn one, With this sufficient sweet- That abstinence as mine produce A purer good for them, If I succeed,- If not, I had The transport of the Aim. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXIII LXXXIII. - NOT one by Heaven defrauded stay, Although He seem to steal, He restitutes in some sweet way. Secreted in His will. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXIV LXXXIV. - THE feet of people walking home In gayer sandals go, The Crocus, till she rises, The Vassal of the Snow- The lips at Hallelujah! Long years of practice bore, Till bye and bye these Bargemen Walked singing on the shore. - Pearls are the Diver's farthings Extorted from the Sea, Pinions the Seraph's wagon, Pedestrians once, as we- Night is the mornings canvas, Larceny, legacy, Death but our rapt attention To immortality. - My figures fail to tell me How far the village lies, {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXIV ^line 20} Whose Peasants are the angels, Whose Cantons dot the skies, My Classics veil their faces, My Faith that dark adores, Which from its solemn Abbeys Such resurrection pours! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXV LXXXV. - WE should not mind so small a flower, Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the lawn again. So spicy her Carnations red, So drunken reel her Bees, So silver steal a hundred Flutes From out a hundred trees, That whoso sees this little flower, By faith may clear behold The Bobolinks around the throne, And Dandelions gold. {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXVI LXXXVI. - TO the staunch Dust we safe commit thee; Tongue if it hath, inviolate to thee- Silence denote and Sanctity enforce thee, Passenger of Infinity! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXVII LXXXVII. - HER "Last Poems"- Poets ended, Silver perished with her tongue, Not on record bubbled other Flute, or Woman, so divine; Not unto its Summer morning Robin uttered half the tune- Gushed too free for the adoring, From the Anglo-Florentine. Late the praise- 'T is dull conferring On a Head too high to crown, Diadem or Ducal showing, Be its Grave sufficient sign. Yet if we, no Poet's kinsman, Suffocate with easy woe, What and if ourself a Bridegroom, Put Her down, in Italy? {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXVIII LXXXVIII. - IMMURED in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every bondage be, Thou Sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee! {SINGLE_HOUND|LXXXIX LXXXIX. - I'M thinking of that other morn, When Cerements let go, And Creatures clad in Victory Go up in two by two! {SINGLE_HOUND|XC XC. - THE overtakelessness of those Who have accomplished Death, Majestic is to me beyond The majesties of Earth. - The soul her "not at Home" Inscribes upon the flesh, And takes her fair aerial gait Beyond the hope of touch. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCI XCI. - THE Look of Thee, what is it like? Hast thou a hand or foot, Or mansion of Identity, And what is thy Pursuit? - Thy fellows,- are they Realms or Themes? Hast thou Delight or Fear Or Longing,- and is that for us Or values more severe? - Let change transfuse all other traits, Enact all other blame, But deign this least certificate- That thou shalt be the same. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCII XCII. - THE Devil, had he fidelity, Would be the finest friend- Because he has ability, But Devils cannot mend. Perfidy is the virtue That would he but resign,- The Devil, so amended, Were durably divine. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCIII XCIII. - PAPA above! Regard a Mouse O'erpowered by the Cat; Reserve within thy kingdom A "mansion" for the Rat! - Snug in seraphic cupboards To nibble all the day, While unsuspecting cycles Wheel pompously away. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCIV XCIV. - NOT when we know The Power accosts, The garment of Surprise Was all our timid Mother wore At Home, in Paradise. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCV XCV. - ELIJAH'S wagon knew no thill, Was innocent of wheel, Elijah's horses as unique As was his vehicle. Elijah's journey to portray, Expire with him the skill, Who justified Elijah, In feats inscrutable. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCVI XCVI. - "REMEMBER me," implored the Thief- Oh magnanimity! "My Visitor in Paradise I give thee Guaranty." - That courtesy will fair remain, When the delight is dust, With which we cite this mightiest case Of compensated Trust. - Of All, we are allowed to hope, But Affidavit stands That this was due, where some, we fear, Are unexpected friends. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCVII XCVII. - TO this apartment deep No ribaldry may creep; Untroubled this abode By any man but God. {SINGLE_HOUND|XCVIII XCVIII. - "SOWN in dishonor?" Ah! Indeed! May this dishonor be? If I were half so fine myself, I'd notice nobody! - "Sown in corruption?" By no means! Apostle is askew; Corinthians 1.15, narrates A circumstance or two! {SINGLE_HOUND|XCIX XCIX. - WHO is it seeks my pillow nights? With plain inspecting face, "Did you, or did you not?" to ask, 'T is Conscience, childhood's nurse. - With martial hand she strokes the hair Upon my wincing head, "All rogues shall have their part in"- What- The Phosphorus of God. {SINGLE_HOUND|C C. - HIS Cheek is his Biographer- As long as he can blush, Perdition is Opprobrium; Past that, he sins in peace. {SINGLE_HOUND|CI CI. - "HEAVENLY Father," take to thee The supreme iniquity, Fashioned by thy candid hand In a moment contraband. Though to trust us seem to us More respectful- "we are dust." We apologize to Thee For Thine own Duplicity. {SINGLE_HOUND|CII CII. - THE sweets of Pillage can be known To no one but the Thief, Compassion for Integrity Is his divinest Grief. {SINGLE_HOUND|CIII CIII. - A LITTLE over Jordan, As Genesis record, An Angel and a Wrestler Did wrestle long and hard. - Till, morning touching mountain, And Jacob waxing strong, The Angel begged permission To breakfast and return. - Not so, quoth wily Jacob And grit his loins anew, "Until thou bless me, stranger!" The which acceded to: - Light swung the silver fleeces Peniel hills among, And the astonished Wrestler Found he had worsted God! {SINGLE_HOUND|CIV CIV. - DUST is the only secret, Death the only one You cannot find out all about In his native town: Nobody knew his father, Never was a boy, Had n't any playmates Or early history. - Industrious, laconic, Punctual, sedate, Bolder than a Brigand, Swifter than a Fleet, Builds like a bird too, Christ robs the nest- Robin after robin Smuggled to rest! {SINGLE_HOUND|CV CV. - AMBITION cannot find him, Affection doesn't know How many leagues of Nowhere Lie between them now. Yesterday undistinguished- Eminent today, For our mutual honor- Immortality! {SINGLE_HOUND|CVI CVI. - EDEN is that old fashioned House We dwell in every day, Without suspecting our abode Until we drive away. How fair, on looking back, the Day We sauntered from the door, Unconscious our returning Discover it no more. {SINGLE_HOUND|CVII CVII. - CANDOR, my tepid Friend, Come not to play with me! The Myrrhs and Mochas of the Mind Are its Iniquity. {SINGLE_HOUND|CVIII CVIII. - SPEECH is a symptom of affection, And Silence one, The perfectest communication Is heard of none- Exists and its indorsement Is had within- Behold! said the Apostle, Yet had not seen. {SINGLE_HOUND|CIX CIX. - WHO were "the Father and the Son"- We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us- And when portentous told With inference appalling, By Childhood fortified, We thought, "at least they are no worse Than they have been described." - Who are "the Father and the Son"- Did we demand today, "The Father and the Son" himself Would doubtless specify, But had they the felicity When we desired to know, We better Friends had been, perhaps, Than time ensue to be. - We start, to learn that we believe But once, entirely- {SINGLE_HOUND|CIX ^line 20} Belief, it does not fit so well When altered frequently. We blush, that Heaven if we achieve, Event ineffable- We shall have shunned, until ashamed To own the Miracle. {SINGLE_HOUND|CX CX. - THAT Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love; It is enough, the freight should be Proportioned to the groove. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXI CXI. - THE luxury to apprehend The luxury 't would be To look at thee a single time, An Epicure of me, In whatsoever Presence, makes, Till, for a further food I scarcely recollect to starve, So first am I supplied. The luxury to meditate The luxury it was To banquet on thy Countenance, A sumptuousness bestows On plainer days, Whose table, far as Certainly can see, Is laden with a single crumb- The consciousness of Thee. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXII CXII. - THE Sea said "Come" to the Brook, The Brook said "Let me grow!" The Sea said "Then you will be a Sea- I want a brook, Come now!" {SINGLE_HOUND|CXIII CXIII. - ALL I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for its Totalness? 'T is economy To bestow a world And withhold a star, Utmost is munificence; Less, though larger, Poor. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXIV CXIV. - LOVE reckons by itself alone, "As large as I" relate the Sun To one who never felt it blaze, Itself is all the like it has. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXV CXV. - THE inundation of the Spring Submerges every soul, It sweeps the tenement away But leaves the water whole. In which the Soul, at first alarmed, Seeks furtive for its shore, But acclimated, gropes no more For that Peninsular. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXVI CXVI. - NO Autumn's intercepting chill Appalls this Tropic Beast, But African exuberance And Asiatic rest. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXVII CXVII. - VOLCANOES be in Sicily And South America, I judge from my geography Volcanoes nearer here, A lava step, at any time, Am I inclined to climb A crater I may contemplate, Vesuvius at home. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXVIII CXVIII. - DISTANCE is not the realm of Fox, Nor by relay as Bird; Abated, Distance is until Thyself, Beloved! {SINGLE_HOUND|CXIX CXIX. - THE treason of an accent Might vilify the Joy- To breathe,- corrode the rapture Of Sanctity to be. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXX CXX. - HOW destitute is he Whose Gold is firm, Who finds it every time, The small stale sum- When Love, with but a pence Will so display, As is a disrespect to India! {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXI CXXI. - CRISIS is sweet and, set the Heart Upon the hither side, Has dowers of prospective Surrendered by the Tried. Inquire of the closing Rose Which Rapture she preferred, And she will tell you, sighing, The transport of the Bud. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXII CXXII. - TO tell the beauty would decrease, To state the Spell demean, There is a syllableless sea Of which it is the sign. - My will endeavours for its word And fails, but entertains A rapture as of legacies- Of introspective mines. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXIII CXXIII. - TO love thee, year by year, May less appear Than sacrifice and cease. However, Dear, Forever might be short I thought, to show, And so I pieced it with a flower now. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXIV CXXIV. - I SHOWED her heights she never saw- "Would'st climb?" I said, She said "Not so"- "With me?" I said, "With me?" I showed her secrets Morning's nest, The rope that Nights were put across- And now, "Would'st have me for a Guest?" She could not find her yes- And then, I brake my life, and Lo! A light for her, did solemn glow, The larger, as her face withdrew- And could she, further, "No"? {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXV CXXV. - ON my volcano grows the grass,- A meditative spot, An area for a bird to choose Would be the general thought. - How red the fire reeks below, How insecure the sod- Did I disclose, would populate With awe my solitude. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXVI CXXVI. - IF I could tell how glad I was, I should not be so glad, But when I cannot make the Force Nor mould it into word, I know it is a sign That new Dilemma be From mathematics further off, Than from Eternity. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXVII CXXVII. - HER Grace is all she has, And that, so vast displays, One Art, to recognize, must be, Another Art to praise. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXVIII CXXVIII. - NO matter where the Saints abide, They make their circuit fair; Behold how great a Firmament Accompanies a star! {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXIX CXXIX. - TO see her is a picture, To hear her is a tune, To know her an intemperance As innocent as June; By which to be undone Is dearer than Redemption- Which never to receive, Makes mockery of melody It might have been to live. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXX CXXX. - SO set its sun in thee, What day is dark to me- What distance far, So I the ships may see That touch how seldomly Thy shore? {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXI CXXXI. - HAD this one day not been, Or could it cease to be- How smitten, how superfluous Were every other day! - Lest Love should value less What Loss would value more, Had it the stricken privilege- It cherishes before. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXII CXXII. - THAT she forgot me was the least, I felt it second pain, That I was worthy to forget Was most I thought upon. - Faithful, was all that I could boast, But Constancy became, To her, by her innominate, A something like a shame. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXIII CXXXIII. - THE incidents of Love Are more than its Events, Investments best expositor Is the minute per cents. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXIV CXXXIV. - JUST so, Jesus raps- He does not weary- Last at the knocker and first at the bell, Then on divinest tiptoe standing Might He out-spy the lady's soul When He retires, chilled and weary- It will be ample time for me; Patient, upon the steps, until then- Heart, I am knocking low at Thee! {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXV CXXXV. - SAFE Despair it is that raves, Agony is frugal, Puts itself severe away For its own perusal. - Garrisoned no Soul can be In the front of Trouble, Love is one, not aggregate, Nor is Dying double. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXVI CXXXVI. - THE Face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day- As absent as a hundred years When it has rode away. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXVII CXXXVII. - OF so divine a loss We enter but the gain, Indemnity for loneliness That such a bliss has been. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXVIII CXXXVIII. - THE healed Heart shows its shallow scar With confidential moan, Not mended by Mortality Are fabrics truly torn. To go its convalescent way So shameless is to see, More genuine were Perfidy Than such Fidelity. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXXXIX CXXXIX. - TO pile like Thunder to its close, Then crumble grand away, While everything created hid- This would be Poetry: Or Love,- the two coeval came- We both and neither prove, Experience either, and consume- For none see God and live. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXL CXL. - THE Stars are old, that stood for me- The West a little worn, Yet newer glows the only Gold I ever cared to earn- Presuming on that lone result Her infinite disdain, But vanquished her with my defeat, 'Twas Victory was slain. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXLI CXLI. - ALL circumstances are the frame In which His Face is set, All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient continent. - The light His Action and the dark The Leisure of His Will, In Him Existence serve, or set A force illegible. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXLII CXLII. - I DID not reach thee, But my feet slip nearer every day; Three Rivers and a Hill to cross, One Desert and a Sea- I shall not count the journey one When I am telling thee. - Two deserts- but the year is cold So that will help the sand- One desert crossed, the second one Will feel as cool as land. Sahara is too little price To pay for thy Right hand! - The sea comes last. Step merry, feet! So short have we to go To play together we are prone, But we must labor now, The last shall be the lightest load That we have to draw. {SINGLE_HOUND|CXLII ^line 20} - The Sun goes crooked- that is night- Before he makes the bend We must have passed the middle sea, Almost we wish the end Were further off- too great it seems So near the Whole to stand. - We step like plush, we stand like snow- The waters murmur now, Three rivers and the hill are passed, Two deserts and the sea! Now Death usurps my premium And gets the look at Thee. - - THE END