Not seeing, still we know --
Not knowing, guess --
Not guessing, smile and hide
And half caress --

And quake -- and turn away,
Seraphic fear --
Is Eden's innuendo
"If you dare"?

The Dandelion's pallid tube
Astonishes the Grass,
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas --

The tube uplifts a signal Bud
And then a shouting Flower, --
The Proclamation of the Suns
That sepulture is o'er.

The stem of a departed Flower
Has still a silent rank.
The Bearer from an Emerald Court
Of a Despatch of Pink.

The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve --

His little Hearse like Figure
Unto itself a Dirge
To a delusive Lilac
The vanity divulge
Of Industry and Morals
And every righteous thing
For the divine Perdition
Of Idleness and Spring --

We never know we go when we are going --
We jest and shut the Door --
Fate -- following -- behind us bolts it --
And we accost no more --

A faded Boy -- in sallow Clothes
Who drove a lonesome Cow
To pastures of Oblivion --
A statesman's Embryo --

The Boys that whistled are extinct --
The Cows that fed and thanked
Remanded to a Ballad's Barn
Or Clover's Retrospect --

He lived the Life of Ambush
And went the way of Dusk
And now against his subtle name
There stands an Asterisk
As confident of him as we --
Impregnable we are --
The whole of Immortality intrenched
Within a star --

His oriental heresies
Exhilarate the Bee,
And filling all the Earth and Air
With gay apostasy

Fatigued at last, a Clover plain
Allures his jaded eye
That lowly Breast where Butterflies
Have felt it meet to die --

Oh give it Motion -- deck it sweet
With Artery and Vein --
Upon its fastened Lips lay words --
Affiance it again
To that Pink stranger we call Dust --
Acquainted more with that
Than with this horizontal one
That will not lift its Hat --

The Moon upon her fluent Route
Defiant of a Road --
The Star's Etruscan Argument
Substantiate a God --

If Aims impel these Astral Ones
The ones allowed to know
Know that which makes them as forgot
As Dawn forgets them -- now --

'Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War
In which we each were Conqueror
And each of us were slain
And Centuries 'twill be and more
Another Massacre before
So modest and so vain --
Without a Formula we fought
Each was to each the Pink Redoubt --

A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring
In contrast with the things that sing
Not Birds entirely -- but Minds --
Minute Effulgencies and Winds --
When what they sung for is undone
Who cares about a Blue Bird's Tune --
Why, Resurrection had to wait
Till they had moved a Stone --

Above Oblivion's Tide there is a Pier
And an effaceless "Few" are lifted there --
Nay -- lift themselves -- Fame has no Arms --
And but one smile -- that meagres Balms --

From all the Jails the Boys and Girls
Ecstatically leap --
Beloved only Afternoon
That Prison doesn't keep

They storm the Earth and stun the Air,
A Mob of solid Bliss --
Alas -- that Frowns should lie in wait
For such a Foe as this --

On that specific Pillow
Our projects flit away --
The Night's tremendous Morrow
And whether sleep will stay
Or usher us -- a stranger --
To situations new
The effort to comprise it
Is all the soul can do.

Society for me my misery
Since Gift of Thee --

The Life that tied too tight escapes
Will ever after run
With a prudential look behind
And spectres of the Rein --
The Horse that scents the living Grass
And sees the Pastures smile
Will be retaken with a shot
If he is caught at all --