God is a distant -- stately Lover --
Woos, as He states us -- by His Son --
Verily, a Vicarious Courtship --
"Miles", and "Priscilla", were such an One --

But, lest the Soul -- like fair "Priscilla"
Choose the Envoy -- and spurn the Groom --
Vouches, with hyperbolic archness --
"Miles", and "John Alden" were Synonym --

If any sink, assure that this, now standing --
Failed like Themselves -- and conscious that it rose --
Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding
How Weakness passed -- or Force -- arose --

Tell that the Worst, is easy in a Moment --
Dread, but the Whizzing, before the Ball --
When the Ball enters, enters Silence --
Dying -- annuls the power to kill.

I gained it so --
By Climbing slow --
By Catching at the Twigs that grow
Between the Bliss -- and me --
It hung so high
As well the Sky
Attempt by Strategy --

I said I gained it --
This -- was all --
Look, how I clutch it
Lest it fall --
And I a Pauper go --
Unfitted by an instant's Grace
For the Contented -- Beggar's face
I wore -- an hour ago --

Death sets a Thing significant
The Eye had hurried by
Except a perished Creature
Entreat us tenderly

To ponder little Workmanships
In Crayon, or in Wool,
With "This was last Her fingers did" --
Industrious until --

The Thimble weighed too heavy --
The stitches stopped -- by themselves --
And then 'twas put among the Dust
Upon the Closet shelves --

A Book I have -- a friend gave --
Whose Pencil -- here and there --
Had notched the place that pleased Him --
At Rest -- His fingers are --

Now -- when I read -- I read not --
For interrupting Tears --
Obliterate the Etchings
Too Costly for Repairs.

What I can do -- I will --
Though it be little as a Daffodil --
That I cannot -- must be
Unknown to possibility --

It struck me -- every Day --
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through --

It burned Me -- in the Night --
It Blistered to My Dream --
It sickened fresh upon my sight --
With every Morn that came --

I though that Storm -- was brief --
The Maddest -- quickest by --
But Nature lost the Date of This --
And left it in the Sky --

I went to thank Her --
But She Slept --
Her Bed -- a funneled Stone --
With Nosegays at the Head and Foot --
That Travellers -- had thrown --

Who went to thank Her --
But She Slept --
'Twas Short -- to cross the Sea --
To look upon Her like -- alive --
But turning back -- 'twas slow --

The Morning after Woe --
'Tis frequently the Way --
Surpasses all that rose before --
For utter Jubilee --

As Nature did not care --
And piled her Blossoms on --
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon --

The Birds declaim their Tunes --
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers -- Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead --

On here and there -- a creature --
They'd modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef --
Some Key of Calvary --

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge --