The nearest dream recedes, unreali…
The heaven we chase
Like the June bee
Before the school-boy
Invites the race;
An awful Tempest mashed the air—
The clouds were gaunt, and few—
A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
That flickered in the night’—
When it was dark enough to do
Without erasing sight’—
Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here…
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird’s nest,
And sow the Early seed—
All Circumstances are the Frame
In which His Face is set—
All Latitudes exist for His
The Bible is an antique Volume—
Written by faded men
At the suggestion of Holy Spectre…
Till we—are stouter—
Till we—are less afraid—
Going to Heaven!
I don’t know when—
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed I’m too astonished
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes—
I wonder if It weighs like Mine—
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long—
Wild Nights! Wild Nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild Nights should be
Futile the winds
Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes…
Came the Darker Way—
Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too…
But for Holiday
The face I carry with me’—last’—
When I go out of Time’—
To take my Rank’—by’—in the West’…
That face’—will just be thine’—
Best Gains’—must have the Losses’…
To constitute them’—Gains’—
She dealt her pretty words like B…
How glittering they shone—
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone—
If this is “fading”
Oh let me immediately “fade”!
If this is “dying”
Bury me, in such a shroud of red!