Nobody knows this little Rose --
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it --
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey --
On its breast to lie --
Only a Bird will wonder --
Only a Breeze will sigh --
Ah Little Rose -- how easy
For such as thee to die!
I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there --
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler --
I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name --
For doubt, that I should know the Sound --
I judged my features -- jarred my hair --
I pushed my dimples by, and waited --
If they -- twinkled back --
Conviction might, of me --
I told myself, "Take Courage, Friend --
That -- was a former time --
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!"
A loss of something ever felt I --
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was -- of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect
A Mourner walked among the children
I notwithstanding went about
As one bemoaning a Dominion
Itself the only Prince cast out --
Elder, Today, a session wiser
And fainter, too, as Wiseness is --
I find myself still softly searching
For my Delinguent Palaces --
And a Suspicion, like a Finger
Touches my Forehead now and then
That I am looking oppositely
For the site of the Kingdom of Heaven --
Trusty as the stars
Who quit their shining working
Prompt as when I lit them
In Genesis' new house,
Durable as dawn
Whose antiquated blossom
Makes a world's suspense
Perish and rejoice.
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!
She rose as high as His Occasion
Then sought the Dust --
And lower lay in low Westminster
For Her brief Crest --
Yesterday is History,
'Tis so far away --
Yesterday is Poetry --
'Tis Philosophy --
Yesterday is mystery --
Where it is Today
While we shrewdly speculate
Flutter both away
The Butterfly's Numidian Gown
With spots of Burnish roasted on
Is proof against the Sun
Yet prone to shut its spotted Fan
And panting on a Clover lean
As if it were undone --
Beauty crowds me till I die
Beauty mercy have on me
But if I expire today
Let it be in sight of thee --
Hope is a subtle Glutton --
He feeds upon the Fair --
And yet -- inspected closely
What Abstinence is there --
His is the Halcyon Table --
That never seats but One --
And whatsoever is consumed
The same amount remain --
Lest this be Heaven indeed
An Obstacle is given
That always gauges a Degree
Between Ourself and Heaven.
Four Trees -- upon a solitary Acre --
Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action --
Maintain --
The Sun -- upon a Morning meets them --
The Wind --
No nearer Neighbor -- have they --
But God --
The Acre gives them -- Place --
They -- Him -- Attention of Passer by --
Of Shadow, or of Squirrel, haply --
Or Boy --
What Deed is Theirs unto the General Nature --
What Plan
They severally -- retard -- or further --
Unknown --