A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care – For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee And an entire universe For the delighted crew.
Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
I fear a Man of frugal speech – I fear a Silent Man – Haranguer – I can overtake – Or Babbler – entertain – But He who weigheth – While the Rest – Expend their furthest pound – Of this Man – I am wary – I fear that He is Grand -.
Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot Than save my Boot – For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store – But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more –.
Looking at Death, is Dying –...
By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted- Which Blossom in the dark.
A Letter is a Joy of Earth – It is denied the Gods.
It is easy to work when the soul is at play.
When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
His Labor is a Chant – His Idleness -a Tune – Oh, for a Bee’s experience Of Clovers, and of Noon!
Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.
A Deed knocks first at Thought And then – it knocks at Will – That is the manufacturing spot.
A Murmur in the Trees – to note – Not loud enough – for Wind – A Star – not far enough to seek – Nor near enough – to find.
My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them!
I dwell in Possibility A fairer house than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior – for Doors.
Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-Death- tho soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increase- Suspense-does not conclude-.
To possess is past the instant; we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
To be alive is power; existence in itself; without a further function; omnipotence.
This is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me, the simple news that nature told, with tender majesty. Her message is committed, to hands I cannot see; for love of her, sweet countrymen, judge tenderly of me.