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Life LXXXVIII. Heaven is what I cannot reach! (239)

Part One: Life

 
            LXXXVIII
 
HEAVEN is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That “heaven” is, to me.
 
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind,—
There Paradise is found!
 
Her teasing Purples—Afternoons—
The credulous—decoy—
Enamored—of the Conjuror—
That spurned us—Yesterday!
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