Fairer through Fading -- as the Day
Into the Darkness dips away --
Half Her Complexion of the Sun --
Hindering -- Haunting -- Perishing --

Rallies Her Glow, like a dying Friend --
Teasing with glittering Amend --
Only to aggravate the Dark
Through an expiring -- perfect -- look --

What I see not, I better see --
Through Faith -- my Hazel Eye
Has periods of shutting --
But, No lid has Memory --

For frequent, all my sense obscured
I equally behold
As someone held a light unto
The Features so beloved ---

And I arise -- and in my Dream --
Do Thee distinguished Grace --
Till jealous Daylight interrupt --
And mar thy perfectness --

On that dear Frame the Years had worn
Yet precious as the House
In which We first experienced Light
The Witnessing, to Us --

Precious!  It was conceiveless fair
As Hands the Grave had grimed
Should softly place within our own
Denying that they died.

The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At rarer intervals --
The little Bird would not dissent
But meekly recognize

The Gulf between the Hand and Her
And crumbless and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore --

Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee

Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow?

A Coffin -- is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.

A Grave -- is a restricted Breadth --
Yet ampler than the Sun --
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend --
Circumference without Relief --
Or Estimate -- or End --

I learned -- at least -- what Home could be --
How ignorant I had been
Of pretty ways of Covenant --
How awkward at the Hymn

Round our new Fireside -- but for this --
This pattern -- of the Way --
Whose Memory drowns me, like the Dip
Of a Celestial Sea --

What Mornings in our Garden -- guessed --
What Bees -- for us -- to hum --
With only Birds to interrupt
The Ripple of our Theme --

And Task for Both --
When Play be done --
Your Problem -- of the Brain --
And mine -- some foolisher effect --
A Ruffle -- or a Tune --

The Afternoons -- Together spent --
And Twilight -- in the Lanes --
Some ministry to poorer lives --
Seen poorest -- thro' our gains --

And then Return -- and Night -- and Home --

And then away to You to pass --
A new -- diviner -- care --
Till Sunrise take us back to Scene --
Transmuted -- Vivider --

This seems a Home --
And Home is not --
But what that Place could be --
Afflicts me -- as a Setting Sun --
Where Dawn -- knows how to be --

This is a Blossom of the Brain --
A small -- italic Seed
Lodged by Design or Happening
The Spirit fructified --

Shy as the Wind of his Chambers
Swift as a Freshet's Tongue
So of the Flower of the Soul
Its process is unknown.

When it is found, a few rejoice
The Wise convey it Home
Carefully cherishing the spot
If other Flower become.

When it is lost, that Day shall be
The Funeral of God,
Upon his Breast, a closing Soul
The Flower of our Lord.

It is an honorable Thought
And make One lift One's Hat
As One met sudden Gentlefolk
Upon a daily Street

That We've immortal Place
Though Pyramids decay
And Kingdoms, like the Orchard
Flit Russetly away

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
"A Soul has gone to Heaven"
I'm answered in a lonesome tone --
Is Heaven then a Prison?

That Bells should ring till all should know
A Soul had gone to Heaven
Would seem to me the more the way
A Good News should be given.

'Twas Crisis -- All the length had passed --
That dull -- benumbing time
There is in Fever or Event --
And now the Chance had come --

The instant holding in its claw
The privilege to live
Or warrant to report the Soul
The other side the Grave.

The Muscles grappled as with leads
That would not let the Will --
The Spirit shook the Adamant --
But could not make it feel.

The Second poised -- debated -- shot --
Another had begun --
And simultaneously, a Soul
Escaped the House unseen --