Going to Him! Happy letter!
Tell Him --
Tell Him the page I didn't write --
Tell Him -- I only said the Syntax --
And left the Verb and the pronoun out --
Tell Him just how the fingers hurried --
Then -- how they waded -- slow -- slow --
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages --
So you could see what moved them so --
Tell Him -- it wasn't a Practised Writer --
You guessed -- from the way the sentence toiled --
You could hear the Bodice tug, behind you --
As if it held but the might of a child --
You almost pitied it -- you -- it worked so --
Tell Him -- no -- you may quibble there --
For it would split His Heart, to know it --
His Heart was darker than the starless night
For that there is a morn
But in this black Receptacle
Can be no Bode of Dawn
We grow accustomed to the Dark --
When light is put away --
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye --
A Moment -- We uncertain step
For newness of the night --
Then -- fit our Vision to the Dark --
And meet the Road -- erect --
And so of larger -- Darkness --
Those Evenings of the Brain --
When not a Moon disclose a sign --
Or Star -- come out -- within --
The Bravest -- grope a little --
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead --
But as they learn to see --
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago --
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below --
Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde --
Her Cheek -- a Beryl hewn --
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known --
Her Lips of Amber never part --
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will --
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star --
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door --
A Murmur in the Trees -- to note --
Not loud enough -- for Wind --
A Star -- not far enough to seek --
Nor near enough -- to find --
A long -- long Yellow -- on the Lawn --
A Hubbub -- as of feet --
Not audible -- as Ours -- to Us --
But dapperer -- More Sweet --
A Hurrying Home of little Men
To Houses unperceived --
All this -- and more -- if I should tell --
Would never be believed --
Of Robins in the Trundle bed
How many I espy
Whose Nightgowns could not hide the Wings --
Although I heard them try --
Ah, Moon -- and Star!
You are very far --
But were no one
Farther than you --
Do you think I'd stop
For a Firmament --
Or a Cubit -- or so?
I could borrow a Bonnet
Of the Lark --
And a Chamois' Silver Boot --
And a stirrup of an Antelope --
And be with you -- Tonight!
But, Moon, and Star,
Though you're very far --
There is one -- farther than you --
He -- is more than a firmament -- from Me --
As Children bid the Guest "Good Night"
And then reluctant turn --
My flowers raise their pretty lips --
Then put their nightgowns on.
As children caper when they wake
Merry that it is Morn --
My flowers from a hundred cribs
Will peep, and prance again.
Tho' I get home how late -- how late --
So I get home - 'twill compensate --
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me --
When Night -- descending -- dumb -- and dark --
They hear my unexpected knock --
Transporting must the moment be --
Brewed from decades of Agony!
To think just how the fire will burn --
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn --
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me --
Beguiles the Centuries of way!
O mother-my-love, if you'll give me your hand,
And go where I ask you to wander,
I will lead you away to a beautiful land,--
The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder.
We'll walk in a sweet posie-garden out there,
Where moonlight and starlight are streaming,
And the flowers and the birds are filling the air
With the fragrance and music of dreaming.
There'll be no little tired-out boy to undress,
No questions or cares to perplex you,
There'll be no little bruises or bumps to caress,
Nor patching of stockings to vex you;
For I'll rock you away on a silver-dew stream
And sing you asleep when you're weary,
And no one shall know of our beautiful dream
But you and your own little dearie.
(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)
Grim is the face that looks into the night
Over the stretch of sands;
A sullen rock in a sea of white--
A ghostly shadow in ghostly light,
Peering and moaning it stands.
"Oh, is it the king that rides this way--
Oh, is it the king that rides so free?
I have looked for the king this many a day,
But the years that mock me will not say
Why tarrieth he!"
'T is not your king that shall ride to-night,
But a child that is fast asleep;
And the horse he shall ride is the Dream-horse white--
Aha, he shall speed through the ghostly light
Where the ghostly shadows creep!
Star of the East, that long ago
Brought wise men on their way
Where, angels singing to and fro,
The Child of Bethlehem lay--
Above that Syrian hill afar
Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!
Star of the East, the night were drear
But for the tender grace
That with thy glory comes to cheer
Earth's loneliest, darkest place;
For by that charity we see
Where there is hope for all and me.
Star of the East! show us the way
In wisdom undefiled
To seek that manger out and lay
Our gifts before the child--
Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
'T is a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of that fruit to be happy next day.
When you 've got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below---
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so: