So much of Heaven has gone from Earth
That there must be a Heaven
If only to enclose the Saints
To Affidavit given.

The Missionary to the Mole
Must prove there is a Sky
Location doubtless he would plead
But what excuse have I?

Too much of Proof affronts Belief
The Turtle will not try
Unless you leave him -- then return
And he has hauled away.

Because He loves Her
We will pry and see if she is fair
What difference is on her Face
From Features others wear.

It will not harm her magic pace
That we so far behind --
Her Distances propitiate
As Forests touch the Wind

Not hoping for his notice vast
But nearer to adore
'Tis Glory's far sufficiency
That makes our trying poor.

It came at last but prompter Death
Had occupied the House --
His pallid Furniture arranged
And his metallic Peace --

Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date
Had Love as punctual been
Delight had aggrandized the Gate
And blocked the coming in.

Somewhere upon the general Earth
Itself exist Today --
The Magic passive but extant
That consecrated me --

Indifferent Seasons doubtless play
Where I for right to be --
Would pay each Atom that I am
But Immortality --

Reserving that but just to prove
Another Date of Thee --
Oh God of Width, do not for us
Curtail Eternity!

The Clover's simple Fame
Remembered of the Cow --
Is better than enameled Realms
Of notability.
Renown perceives itself
And that degrades the Flower --
The Daisy that has looked behind
Has compromised its power --

Had I not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade
But Light a newer Wilderness
My Wilderness has made --

If my Bark sink
'Tis to another sea --
Mortality's Ground Floor
Is Immortality --

Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new 'twas Wind --
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand --
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road --
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad --
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.

Like Time's insidious wrinkle
On a beloved Face
We clutch the Grace the tighter
Though we resent the crease

The Frost himself so comely
Dishevels every prime
Asserting from his Prism
That none can punish him

My Heart ran so to thee
It would not wait for me
And I affronted grew
And drew away

For whatsoe'er my pace
He first achieve they Face
How general a Grace
Allotted two --

Not in malignity
Mentioned I this to thee --
Had he obliquity
Soonest to share
But for the Greed of him --
Boasting my Premium --
Basking in Bethleem
Ere I be there --

Power is a familiar growth --
Not foreign -- not to be --
Beside us like a bland Abyss
In every company --
Escape it -- there is but a chance --
When consciousness and clay
Lean forward for a final glance --
Disprove that and you may --

Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun
Seductive in the Air --
That Tun is hollow -- but the Tun --
With Hundred Weights -- to spare --

Too ponderous to suspect the snare
Espies that fickle chair
And seats itself to be let go
By that perfidious Hair --

The "foolish Tun" the Critics say --
While that delusive Hair
Persuasive as Perdition,
Decoys its Traveller.

The Beggar at the Door for Fame
Were easily supplied
But Bread is that Diviner thing
Disclosed to be denied

The Lilac is an ancient shrub
But ancienter than that
The Firmamental Lilac
Upon the Hill tonight --
The Sun subsiding on his Course
Bequeaths this final Plant
To Contemplation -- not to Touch --
The Flower of Occident.
Of one Corolla is the West --
The Calyx is the Earth --
The Capsules burnished Seeds the Stars
The Scientist of Faith
His research has but just begun --
Above his synthesis
The Flora unimpeachable
To Time's Analysis --
"Eye hath not seen" may possibly
Be current with the Blind
But let not Revelation
By theses be detained --