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60 Cards in this Set

  • Front
  • Back
  • 3rd side (hint)

The world is not conclusion

This World is not Conclusion.


A Species stands beyond -


Invisible, as Music -


But positive, as Sound -


It beckons, and it baffles -


Philosophy, dont know -


And through a Riddle, at the last -


Sagacity, must go -


To guess it, puzzles scholars -


To gain it, Men have borne


Contempt of Generations


And Crucifixion, shown -


Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -


Blushes, if any see -


Plucks at a twig of Evidence -


And asks a Vane, the way -


Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -


Strong Hallelujahs roll -


Narcotics cannot still the Tooth


That nibbles at the soul -

Species, it beckons and It baffles, philosophy, riddle, sagacity, scholars, men generations, crucifixion, faith slips, blushes, evidence, vane, pulpit/gesture, hallelujahs, narcotics/soul

What mystery pervades a well!

1400



What mystery pervades a well!


That water lives so far—


A neighbor from another world


Residing in a jar



Whose limit none have ever seen,


But just his lid of glass—


Like looking every time you please


In an abyss’s face!



The grass does not appear afraid,


I often wonder he


Can stand so close and look so bold


At what is awe to me.



Related somehow they may be,


The sedge stands next the sea—


Where he is floorless


And does no timidity betray



But nature is a stranger yet;


The ones that cite her most


Have never passed her haunted house,


Nor simplified her ghost.



To pity those that know her not


Is helped by the regret


That those who know her, know her less


The nearer her they get.

There's a certain Slant of light



There's a certain Slant of light,


Winter Afternoons –


That oppresses, like the Heft


Of Cathedral Tunes –



Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –


We can find no scar,


But internal difference –


Where the Meanings, are –



None may teach it – Any –


'Tis the seal Despair –


An imperial affliction


Sent us of the Air –



When it comes, the Landscape listens –


Shadows – hold their breath –


When it goes, 'tis like the Distance


On the look of Death –

The last Night that She lived

The last night that she lived,


It was a common night,


Except the dying; this to us


Made nature different.



We noticed smallest things,—


Things overlooked before,


By this great light upon our minds


Italicized, as ’t were.



That others could exist


While she must finish quite,


A jealousy for her arose


So nearly infinite.



We waited while she passed;


It was a narrow time,


Too jostled were our souls to speak,


At length the notice came.



She mentioned, and forgot;


Then lightly as a reed


Bent to the water, shivered scarce,


Consented, and was dead.



And we, we placed the hair,


And drew the head erect;


And then an awful leisure was, Belief to regulate.


One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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


And then you and I, were silenter



Tell Him — Night finished — before we finished


And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!


And you — got sleepy — and begged to be ended


What could it hinder so — to say?


Tell Him — just how she sealed you — Cautious!


But — if He ask where you are hid


Until tomorrow — Happy letter!


Gesture Coquette — and shake your Head!

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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


And then you and I, were silenter



Tell Him — Night finished — before we finished


And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!


And you — got sleepy — and begged to be ended


What could it hinder so — to say?


Tell Him — just how she sealed you — Cautious!


But — if He ask where you are hid


Until tomorrow — Happy letter!


Gesture Coquette — and shake your Head!

Behind Me - dips Eternity



Behind Me—dips Eternity—


Before Me—Immortality—


Myself—the Term between—


Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,


Dissolving into Dawn away,


Before the West begin—



’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say—


In perfect—pauseless Monarchy—


Whose Prince—is Son of None—


Himself—His Dateless Dynasty—


Himself—Himself diversify—


In Duplicate divine—



’Tis Miracle before Me—then—


’Tis Miracle behind—between—


A Crescent in the Sea—


With Midnight to the North of Her—


And Midnight to the South of Her—


And Maelstrom—in the Sky—

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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


And then you and I, were silenter



Tell Him — Night finished — before we finished


And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!


And you — got sleepy — and begged to be ended


What could it hinder so — to say?


Tell Him — just how she sealed you — Cautious!


But — if He ask where you are hid


Until tomorrow — Happy letter!


Gesture Coquette — and shake your Head!

Behind Me - dips Eternity



Behind Me—dips Eternity—


Before Me—Immortality—


Myself—the Term between—


Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,


Dissolving into Dawn away,


Before the West begin—



’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say—


In perfect—pauseless Monarchy—


Whose Prince—is Son of None—


Himself—His Dateless Dynasty—


Himself—Himself diversify—


In Duplicate divine—



’Tis Miracle before Me—then—


’Tis Miracle behind—between—


A Crescent in the Sea—


With Midnight to the North of Her—


And Midnight to the South of Her—


And Maelstrom—in the Sky—

Because I could not stop for Death-

Because I could not stop for Death –


He kindly stopped for me –


The Carriage held but just Ourselves –


And Immortality.



We slowly drove – He knew no haste


And I had put away


My labor and my leisure too,


For His Civility –



We passed the School, where Children strove


At Recess – in the Ring –


We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –


We passed the Setting Sun –



Or rather – He passed Us –


The Dews drew quivering and Chill –


For only Gossamer, my Gown –


My Tippet – only Tulle –



We paused before a House that seemed


A Swelling of the Ground –


The Roof was scarcely visible –


The Cornice – in the Ground –



Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet


Feels shorter than the Day


I first surmised the Horses' Heads


Were toward Eternity –

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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


And then you and I, were silenter



Tell Him — Night finished — before we finished


And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!


And you — got sleepy — and begged to be ended


What could it hinder so — to say?


Tell Him — just how she sealed you — Cautious!


But — if He ask where you are hid


Until tomorrow — Happy letter!


Gesture Coquette — and shake your Head!

Behind Me - dips Eternity



Behind Me—dips Eternity—


Before Me—Immortality—


Myself—the Term between—


Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,


Dissolving into Dawn away,


Before the West begin—



’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say—


In perfect—pauseless Monarchy—


Whose Prince—is Son of None—


Himself—His Dateless Dynasty—


Himself—Himself diversify—


In Duplicate divine—



’Tis Miracle before Me—then—


’Tis Miracle behind—between—


A Crescent in the Sea—


With Midnight to the North of Her—


And Midnight to the South of Her—


And Maelstrom—in the Sky—

Because I could not stop for Death-

Because I could not stop for Death –


He kindly stopped for me –


The Carriage held but just Ourselves –


And Immortality.



We slowly drove – He knew no haste


And I had put away


My labor and my leisure too,


For His Civility –



We passed the School, where Children strove


At Recess – in the Ring –


We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –


We passed the Setting Sun –



Or rather – He passed Us –


The Dews drew quivering and Chill –


For only Gossamer, my Gown –


My Tippet – only Tulle –



We paused before a House that seemed


A Swelling of the Ground –


The Roof was scarcely visible –


The Cornice – in the Ground –



Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet


Feels shorter than the Day


I first surmised the Horses' Heads


Were toward Eternity –

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –


The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –


The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’


And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?



The Feet, mechanical, go round –


A Wooden way


Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –


Regardless grown,


A Quartz contentment, like a stone –



This is the Hour of Lead –


Remembered, if outlived,


As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –


First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—


One need not be a House—


The Brain has Corridors—surpassing


Material Place—



Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting


External Ghost


Than its interior Confronting—


That Cooler Host.



Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,


The Stones a'chase—


Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter—


In lonesome Place—



Ourself behind ourself, concealed—


Should startle most—


Assassin hid in our Apartment


Be Horror's least.



The Body—borrows a Revolver—


He bolts the Door—


O'erlooking a superior spectre—


Or More—

My Life had, stood - a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -


In Corners - till a Day


The Owner passed - identified -


And carried Me away -



And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -


And now We hunt the Doe -


And every time I speak for Him


The Mountains straight reply -



And do I smile, such cordial light


Opon the Valley glow -


It is as a Vesuvian face


Had let it’s pleasure through -



And when at Night - Our good Day done -


I guard My Master’s Head -


’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s


Deep Pillow - to have shared -



To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -


None stir the second time -


On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -


Or an emphatic Thumb -



Though I than He - may longer live


He longer must - than I -


For I have but the power to kill,


Without - the power to die -

It was not Death, for I stood up,

It was not Death, for I stood up,


And all the Dead, lie down -


It was not Night, for all the Bells


Put out their Tongues, for Noon.



It was not Frost, for on my Flesh


I felt Siroccos - crawl -


Nor Fire - for just my marble feet


Could keep a Chancel, cool -



And yet, it tasted, like them all,


The Figures I have seen


Set orderly, for Burial


Reminded me, of mine -



As if my life were shaven,


And fitted to a frame,


And could not breathe without a key,


And ’twas like Midnight, some -



When everything that ticked - has stopped -


And space stares - all around -


Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,


Repeal the Beating Ground -



But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -


Without a Chance, or spar -


Or even a Report of Land -


To justify - Despair.

I heard a Fly buzz- when I died-

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -


The Stillness in the Room


Was like the Stillness in the Air -


Between the Heaves of Storm -



The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -


And Breaths were gathering firm


For that last Onset - when the King


Be witnessed - in the Room -



I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away


What portion of me be


Assignable - and then it was


There interposed a Fly -



With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -


Between the light - and me -


And then the Windows failed - and then


I could not see to see -

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,


And Mourners to and fro


Kept treading - treading - till it seemed


That Sense was breaking through -



And when they all were seated,


A Service, like a Drum -


Kept beating - beating - till I thought


My mind was going numb -



And then I heard them lift a Box


And creak across my Soul


With those same Boots of Lead, again,


Then Space - began to toll,



As all the Heavens were a Bell,


And Being, but an Ear,


And I, and Silence, some strange Race,


Wrecked, solitary, here -



And then a Plank in Reason, broke,


And I dropped down, and down -


And hit a World, at every plunge,


And Finished knowing - then -

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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


And then you and I, were silenter



Tell Him — Night finished — before we finished


And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!


And you — got sleepy — and begged to be ended


What could it hinder so — to say?


Tell Him — just how she sealed you — Cautious!


But — if He ask where you are hid


Until tomorrow — Happy letter!


Gesture Coquette — and shake your Head!

Behind Me - dips Eternity



Behind Me—dips Eternity—


Before Me—Immortality—


Myself—the Term between—


Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,


Dissolving into Dawn away,


Before the West begin—



’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say—


In perfect—pauseless Monarchy—


Whose Prince—is Son of None—


Himself—His Dateless Dynasty—


Himself—Himself diversify—


In Duplicate divine—



’Tis Miracle before Me—then—


’Tis Miracle behind—between—


A Crescent in the Sea—


With Midnight to the North of Her—


And Midnight to the South of Her—


And Maelstrom—in the Sky—

Because I could not stop for Death-

Because I could not stop for Death –


He kindly stopped for me –


The Carriage held but just Ourselves –


And Immortality.



We slowly drove – He knew no haste


And I had put away


My labor and my leisure too,


For His Civility –



We passed the School, where Children strove


At Recess – in the Ring –


We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –


We passed the Setting Sun –



Or rather – He passed Us –


The Dews drew quivering and Chill –


For only Gossamer, my Gown –


My Tippet – only Tulle –



We paused before a House that seemed


A Swelling of the Ground –


The Roof was scarcely visible –


The Cornice – in the Ground –



Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet


Feels shorter than the Day


I first surmised the Horses' Heads


Were toward Eternity –

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –


The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –


The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’


And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?



The Feet, mechanical, go round –


A Wooden way


Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –


Regardless grown,


A Quartz contentment, like a stone –



This is the Hour of Lead –


Remembered, if outlived,


As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –


First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

A narrow Fellow in the Grass

A narrow fellow in the grass


Occasionally rides;


You may have met him—did you not


His notice sudden is,


The grass divides as with a comb,


A spotted shaft is seen,


And then it closes at your feet,


And opens further on.



He likes a boggy acre,


A floor too cool for corn,


But when a boy and barefoot,


I more than once at noon


Have passed, I thought, a whip lash,


Unbraiding in the sun,


When stooping to secure it,


It wrinkled and was gone.



Several of nature’s people


I know, and they know me;


I feel for them a transport


Of cordiality.


But never met this fellow,


Attended or alone,


Without a tighter breathing,


And zero at the bone.

A Bird came down the Walk-

A Bird came down the Walk—


He did not know I saw—


He bit an Angleworm in halves


And ate the fellow, raw,



And then he drank a Dew


From a convenient Grass—


And then hopped sidewise to the Wall


To let a Beetle pass—



He glanced with rapid eyes


That hurried all around—


They looked like frightened Beads, I thought—


He stirred his Velvet Head



Like one in danger, Cautious,


I offered him a Crumb


And he unrolled his feathers


And rowed him softer home—



Than Oars divide the Ocean,


Too silver for a seam—


Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon


Leap, plashless as they swim.