Лирика

470

I am alive — I guess —

The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory —
And at my finger's end —
The Carmine — tingles warm —
And if I hold a Glass
Across my Mouth — it blurs it —
Physician's — proof of Breath —

I am alive — because

I am not in a Room —
The Parlor — Commonly — it is —
So Visitors may come —
And lean — and view it sidewise —
And add` How cold — it grew" —
And Was it conscious — when it stepped
In Immortality?

I am alive — because

I do not own a House —
Entitled to myself — precise —
And fitting to no one else —

And marked my Girlhood's name —

So Visitors may know
Which Door is mine — and not mistake —
And try another Key —

How good-to be alive!

How infinite to be
Alive — two-fold —
The Birth I had —
And this — besides, in — Thee!

* * *

510

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 «t was 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.»

* * *

540

I Took my Power in my Hand —

And went against the World —
'T was not so much as David — had —
But I was twice as bold —

I aimed my Pebble — but Myself

Was all the one that fell —
Was it Goliaf — was too large —
Or was myself — too small?

* * *

543

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.

* * *

619

Glee — the great storm is over —

Four — have recovered the Land —
Forty — gone down together —
Into the boiling Sand —

Ring — for the Scant Salvation —

Toll — for the bonnie Souls —
Neighbor — and friend — and Bridegroom,
Spinning upon the Shoals —

How they will tell the Story —

When Winter shake the Door —
Till the Children urge — But the Forty —
Did they — come back no more?

Then a softness — suffuses the Story —

And a silence — the Teller's eye —
And the Children — no further question —
And only the Sea — reply —

* * *