The Robin is a Gabriel
In humble circumstances --
His Dress denotes him socially,
Of Transport's Working Classes --
He has the punctuality
Of the New England Farmer --
The same oblique integrity,
A Vista vastly warmer --

A small but sturdy Residence
A self denying Household,
The Guests of Perspicacity
Are all that cross his Threshold --
As covert as a Fugitive,
Cajoling Consternation
By Ditties to the Enemy
And Sylvan Punctuation --

We shall find the Cube of the Rainbow.
Of that, there is no doubt.
But the Arc of a Lover's conjecture
Eludes the finding out.

Love is done when Love's begun,
Sages say,
But have Sages known?
Truth adjourn your Boon
Without Day.

Her spirit rose to such a height
Her countenance it did inflate
Like one that fed on awe.
More prudent to assault the dawn
Than merit the ethereal scorn
That effervesced from her.

The Savior must have been
A docile Gentleman --
To come so far so cold a Day
For little Fellowmen --

The Road to Bethlehem
Since He and I were Boys
Was leveled, but for that 'twould be
A rugged billion Miles --

Birthday of but a single pang
That there are less to come --
Afflictive is the Adjective
But affluent the doom --

A Dimple in the Tomb
Makes that ferocious Room
A Home --

The Face in evanescence lain
Is more distinct than ours --
And ours surrendered for its sake
As Capsules are for Flower's --
Or is it the confiding sheen
Dissenting to enamor us
Of Detriment divine?

The Road to Paradise is plain,
And holds scarce one.
Not that it is not firm
But we presume
A Dimpled Road
Is more preferred.
The Belles of Paradise are few --
Not me -- nor you --
But unsuspected things --
Mines have no Wings.

"And with what body do they come?" --
Then they do come -- Rejoice!
What Door -- What Hour -- Run -- run -- My Soul!
Illuminate the House!

"Body!"  Then real -- a Face and Eyes --
To know that it is them!
Paul knew the Man that knew the News --
He passed through Bethlehem --

Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell
Be once disclosed to us
The clamor for their loveliness
Would burst the Loneliness --

The competitions of the sky
Corrodeless ply.

The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for
Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude --
The desolations only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
And stood amazed before the Change
In ravished Holiness --

All that I do
Is in review
To his enamored mind
I know his eye
Where e'er I ply
Is pushing close behind
Not any Port
Nor any flight
But he doth there preside
What omnipresence lies in wait
For her to be a Bride

Facts by our side are never sudden
Until they look around
And then they scare us like a spectre
Protruding from the Ground --

The height of our portentous Neighbor
We never know --
Till summoned to his recognition
By an Adieu --

Adieu for whence
The sage cannot conjecture
The bravest die
As ignorant of their resumption
As you or I --

Glass was the Street -- in tinsel Peril
Tree and Traveller stood --
Filled was the Air with merry venture
Hearty with Boys the Road --

Shot the lithe Sleds like shod vibrations
Emphasized and gone
It is the Past's supreme italic
Makes this Present mean --

How firm Eternity must look
To crumbling men like me
The only Adamant Estate
In all Identity --

How mighty to the insecure
Thy Physiognomy
To whom not any Face cohere --
Unless concealed in thee