Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels -- lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.
Except for winds -- provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.
The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence -- Home!
He told a homely tale
And spotted it with tears --
Upon his infant face was set
The Cicatrice of years --
All crumpled was the cheek
No other kiss had known
Than flake of snow, divided with
The Redbreast of the Barn --
If Mother -- in the Grave --
Or Father -- on the Sea --
Or Father in the Firmament --
Or Brethren, had he --
If Commonwealth below,
Or Commonwealth above
Have missed a Barefoot Citizen --
I've ransomed it -- alive --
My Season's furthest Flower --
I tenderer commend
Because I found Her Kinsmanless,
A Grace without a Friend.
When I hoped I feared --
Since I hoped I dared
Everywhere alone
As a Church remain --
Spectre cannot harm --
Serpent cannot charm --
He deposes Doom
Who hath suffered him --
I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences --
It's time o' year for Hay.
And Broad -- Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil --
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile --
It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields --
The Busy Carts -- the fragrant Cocks --
The Mower's Metre -- Steals --
A Trouble lest they're homesick --
Those Farmers -- and their Wives --
Set separate from the Farming --
And all the Neighbors' lives --
How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn't care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears --
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity --
Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.
No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.
Antiquest felt at Noon
When August burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify
Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now
Pain has but one Acquaintance
And that is Death --
Each one unto the other
Society enough.
Pain is the Junior Party
By just a Second's right --
Death tenderly assists Him
And then absconds from Sight.
I never felt at Home -- Below --
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at Home -- I know --
I don't like Paradise --
Because it's Sunday -- all the time --
And Recess -- never comes --
And Eden'll be so lonesome
Bright Wednesday Afternoons --
If God could make a visit --
Or ever took a Nap --
So not to see us -- but they say
Himself -- a Telescope
Perennial beholds us --
Myself would run away
From Him -- and Holy Ghost -- and All --
But there's the "Judgement Day"!
One Day is there of the Series
Termed Thanksgiving Day.
Celebrated part at Table
Part in Memory.
Neither Patriarch nor Pussy
I dissect the Play
Seems it to my Hooded thinking
Reflex Holiday.
Had there been no sharp Subtraction
From the early Sum --
Not an Acre or a Caption
Where was once a Room --
Not a Mention, whose small Pebble
Wrinkled any Sea,
Unto Such, were such Assembly
'Twere Thanksgiving Day.
A Door just opened on a street --
I -- lost -- was passing by --
An instant's Width of Warmth disclosed --
And Wealth -- and Company.
The Door as instant shut -- And I --
I -- lost -- was passing by --
Lost doubly -- but by contrast -- most --
Informing -- misery --
Whatever it is -- she has tried it --
Awful Father of Love --
Is not Ours the chastising --
Do not chastise the Dove --
Not for Ourselves, petition --
Nothing is left to pray --
When a subject is finished --
Words are handed away --
Only lest she be lonely
In thy beautiful House
Give her for her Transgression
License to think of us --