Her final Summer was it --
And yet We guessed it not --
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within --
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain --
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post --
At Our Stupidity --
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay --
So busy was she -- finishing --
So leisurely -- were We --
'Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms --
It had the Tassels on --
I thought how yellow it would look --
When Richard went to mill --
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.
I thought just how Red -- Apples wedged
The Stubble's joints between --
And the Carts stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in --
I wondered which would miss me, least,
And when Thanksgiving, came,
If Father'd multiply the plates --
To make an even Sum --
This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life
I mention it to you,
When Sunrise through a fissure drop
The Day must follow too.
If we demur, its gaping sides
Disclose as 'twere a Tomb
Ourself am lying straight wherein
The Favorite of Doom.
When it has just contained a Life
Then, Darling, it will close
And yet so bolder every Day
So turbulent it grows
I'm tempted half to stitch it up
With a remaining Breath
I should not miss in yielding, though
To Him, it would be Death --
Ourselves were wed one summer -- dear --
Your Vision -- was in June --
And when Your little Lifetime failed,
I wearied -- too -- of mine --
And overtaken in the Dark --
Where You had put me down --
By Some one carrying a Light --
I -- too -- received the Sign.
'Tis true -- Our Futures different lay --
Your Cottage -- faced the sun --
While Oceans -- and the North must be --
On every side of mine
'Tis true, Your Garden led the Bloom,
For mine -- in Frosts -- was sown --
And yet, one Summer, we were Queens --
But You -- were crowned in June --
They say that "Time assuages" --
Time never did assuage --
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age --
Time is a Test of Trouble --
But not a Remedy --
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady --
How happy I was if I could forget
To remember how sad I am
Would be an easy adversity
But the recollecting of Bloom
Keeps making November difficult
Till I who was almost bold
Lose my way like a little Child
And perish of the cold.
Brother of Ingots -- Ah Peru --
Empty the Hearts that purchased you --
--
Sister of Ophir --
Ah, Peru --
Subtle the Sum
That purchase you --
--
Brother of Ophir
Bright Adieu,
Honor, the shortest route
To you.
I got so I could take his name --
Without -- Tremendous gain --
That Stop-sensation -- on my Soul --
And Thunder -- in the Room --
I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned -- how --
And all our Sinew tore --
I got so I could stir the Box --
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath --
As Staples -- driven through --
Could dimly recollect a Grace --
I think, they call it "God" --
Renowned to ease Extremity --
When Formula, had failed --
A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring
In contrast with the things that sing
Not Birds entirely -- but Minds --
Minute Effulgencies and Winds --
When what they sung for is undone
Who cares about a Blue Bird's Tune --
Why, Resurrection had to wait
Till they had moved a Stone --
If I'm lost -- now
That I was found --
Shall still my transport be --
That once -- on me -- those Jasper Gates
Blazed open -- suddenly --
That in my awkward -- gazing -- face --
The Angels -- softly peered --
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared --
I'm banished -- now -- you know it --
How foreign that can be --
You'll know -- Sir -- when the Savior's face
Turns so -- away from you --
How the Waters closed above Him
We shall never know --
How He stretched His Anguish to us
That -- is covered too --
Spreads the Pond Her Base of Lilies
Bold above the Boy
Whose unclaimed Hat and Jacket
Sum the History --
Birthday of but a single pang
That there are less to come --
Afflictive is the Adjective
But affluent the doom --