A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
I envy Seas, whereon He rides —
I envy Spokes of Wheels
Of Chariots, that Him convey —
I envy Crooked Hills.
That gaze upon his journey —
How easy all can see.
What is forbidden utterly
As Heaven — unto me!
This was a Poet — It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings —
And Attar so immense
From the familiar species
That perished by the Door —
We wonder it was not Ourselves
Arrested it — before.
Of Pictures, the Discloser —
The Poet — it is He —
Entitles Us — by Contrast —
To ceaseless Poverty
Of Portion — so unconscious —
The Robbing — could not harm?
Himself — to Him — a Fortune —
Exterior — to Time.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Drama's Vitallest Expression is the Common Day
That arise and set about Us —
Other Tragedy
Perish in the Recitation —
This — the best enact
When the Audience is scattered
And the Boxes shut.
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