There may be phrases which shall be palaces to dwell in, treasure-houses to explore; a single word may be a window from which one may perceive all the kingdoms of the earth. (Words of Thomas Wentworth Higginson.)
I sing to use the Waiting,
My bonnet but to tie
And shut the Door unto my House
No more to do have I
Till His best step approaching
We journey to the Day
And tell each other how We sung
To keep the Dark away.
A Thought went up my mind today—
That I have had before—
But did not finish—some way back—
I could not fix the year—
Nor Where it went—nor why it came
The second time to me—
Nor definitely, what it was—
Have I the Art to say—
But somewhere—in my soul—I know—
I’ve met the Thing before—
It just reminded me—’twas all—
And came my way no more—
Touch lightly Nature’s sweet Guitar
Unless thou know’st the Tune
Or eery Bird will point at thee
Because a Bard too soon—
Musicians wrestle everywhere—
All day—among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife—
And—waking—long before the morn—
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that “New Life”!
It is not Bird—it has no nest—
Nor “Band”—in brass and scarlet—drest
Nor Tamborin—nor Man—
It is not Hymn from pulpit read—
The “Morning Stars” the treble led
On Time’s first afternoon!
Some—say—it is “the Spheres”—at play!
Some say—that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames—and Men!
Some—think it service in the place
Where we—with late—celestial face—
Please God—shall ascertain!
The Crickets sang
And set the Sun
And Workmen finished one by one
Their Seam the Day upon—
The Bee had perished from the Scene
And distant as an Order done
And doubtful as Report upon
The Multitudes of Noon—
The low Grass loaded with the Dew
The Twilight leaned as Strangers do
With Hat in Hand, polite and new
To stay as if, or go—
A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came—
A Wisdom without Face or Name—
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so, the Night became—
The fascinating chill that Music leaves
Is Earth’s corroboration
Of Ecstacy’s impediment—
’Tis Rapture’s germination
In timid and tumultuous soil
A fine—estranging creature—
To something upper wooing us
But not to our Creator—
Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile – the winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight –
In thee!
You love me—you are sure—
I shall not fear mistake—
I shall not cheated wake—
Some grinning morn—
To find the Sunrise left—
And Orchards—unbereft—
And Dollie—gone!
I need not start—you’re sure—
That night will never be—
When frightened—home to Thee I run—
To find the windows dark—
And no more Dollie—mark—
Quite none?
Be sure you’re sure—you know—
I’ll bear it better now—
If you’ll just tell me so—
Than when—a little dull Balm grown—
Over this pain of mine—
You sting—again!
Me quieres—estás segura—
No temo el error—
No despertaré engañada—
Una mañana sonriendo—
a descubrir el Sol ha ido—
y Huertos—desolados—
y Dollie—ya se fue!
No debo empezar—estás segura—
Que nunca será la noche—
Cuando asustada, a ti que corro—
Encontrar las ventanas oscuras—
Y no mas Dollie—aye—
¿Bastante ninguna?
Por su puesto estás segura—sabes—
Lo soportaré mejor ahora—
Si justo me lo dices que—
Que cuando—un poco de bálsamo crecido—
sobre esta pena mia—
¡me pinchas—otra vez!
“Why do I love” You, Sir?
Because –
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer – Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place
Because He knows – and
Do not You –
And We know not –
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so –
The Lightning – never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut – when He was by –
Because He knows it cannot speak –
And reasons not contained – Of Talk –
There be – preferred by Daintier Folk –
The Sunrise – Sir – compelleth Me –
Because He’s Sunrise – and I see –
Therefore – Then –
I love Thee –
I heard, as if I had no ear
Until a Vital Word
Came all the way from Life to me
And then I knew I heard—
I saw, as if my eye were on
Another, till a Thing
And now I know ’twas Light, because
It fitted them, came in.
I dwelt, as if Myself were out,
My Body but within
Until a Might detected me
And set my Kernel in—
And Spirit turned unto the Dust
“Old Friend, thou knowest Me”,
And Time went out to tell the News
And met Eternity