That sacred Closet when you sweep --
Entitled "Memory" --
Select a reverential Broom --
And do it silently.

'Twill be a Labor of surprise --
Besides Identity
Of other Interlocutors
A probability --

August the Dust of that Domain --
Unchallenged -- let it lie --
You cannot supersede itself
But it can silence you --

The Bone that has no Marrow,
What Ultimate for that?
It is not fit for Table
For Beggar or for Cat.

A Bone has obligations --
A Being has the same --
A Marrowless Assembly
Is culpabler than shame.

But how shall finished Creatures
A function fresh obtain?
Old Nicodemus' Phantom
Confronting us again!

The Spider as an Artist
Has never been employed --
Though his surpassing Merit
Is freely certified

By every Broom and Bridget
Throughout a Christian Land --
Neglected Son of Genius
I take thee by the Hand --

'Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came --
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home --
'Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps esoteric Time.

While we were fearing it, it came --
But came with less of fear
Because that fearing it so long
Had almost made it fair --

There is a Fitting -- a Dismay --
A Fitting -- a Despair
'Tis harder knowing it is Due
Than knowing it is Here.

They Trying on the Utmost
The Morning it is new
Is Terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.

The Mountains stood in Haze --
The Valleys stopped below
And went or waited as they liked
The River and the Sky.

At leisure was the Sun --
His interests of Fire
A little from remark withdrawn --
The Twilight spoke the Spire,

So soft upon the Scene
The Act of evening fell
We felt how neighborly a Thing
Was the Invisible.

The Way to know the Bobolink
From every other Bird
Precisely as the Joy of him --
Obliged to be inferred.

Of impudent Habiliment
Attired to defy,
Impertinence subordinate
At times to Majesty.

Of Sentiments seditious
Amenable to Law --
As Heresies of Transport
Or Puck's Apostacy.

Extrinsic to Attention
Too intimate with Joy --
He compliments existence
Until allured away

By Seasons or his Children --
Adult and urgent grown --
Or unforeseen aggrandizement
Or, happily, Renown --

By Contrast certifying
The Bird of Birds is gone --
How nullified the Meadow --
Her Sorcerer withdrawn!

The harm of Years is on him --
The infamy of Time --
Depose him like a Fashion
And give Dominion room.


Forget his Morning Forces --
The Glory of Decay
Is a minuter Pageant
Than least Vitality.

A stagnant pleasure like a Pool
That lets its Rushes grow
Until they heedless tumble in
And make the Water slow

Impeding navigation bright
Of Shadows going down
Yet even this shall rouse itself
When freshets come along.

Art thou the thing I wanted?
Begone -- my Tooth has grown --
Supply the minor Palate
That has not starved so long --
I tell thee while I waited
The mystery of Food
Increased till I abjured it
And dine without Like God --

--

Art thou the thing I wanted?
Begone -- my Tooth has grown --
Affront a minor palate
Thou could'st not goad so long --

I tell thee while I waited --
The mystery of Food
Increased till I abjured it
Subsisting now like God --

Could Hope inspect her Basis
Her Craft were done --
Has a fictitious Charter
Or it has none --

Balked in the vastest instance
But to renew --
Felled by but one assassin --
Prosperity --

Had we our senses
But perhaps 'tis well they're not at Home
So intimate with Madness
He's liable with them

Had we the eyes without our Head --
How well that we are Blind --
We could not look upon the Earth --
So utterly unmoved --

I know Suspense -- it steps so terse
And turns so weak away --
Besides -- Suspense is neighborly
When I am riding by --

Is always at the Window
Though lately I descry
And mention to my Horses
The need is not of me --