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366
Although I put away his life --
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand
That sowed the flower, he preferred --
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path --
Or played his chosen tune --
On Lute the least -- the latest --
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe'er delighted it,
I never would let go --
The foot to bear his errand --
A little Boot I know --
Would leap abroad like Antelope --
With just the grant to do --
His weariest Commandment --
A sweeter to obey,
Than "Hide and Seek" --
Or skip to Flutes --
Or all Day, chase the Bee --
Your Servant, Sir, will weary --
The Surgeon, will not come --
The World, will have its own -- to do --
The Dust, will vex your Fame --
The Cold will force your tightest door
Some February Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay --
That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me --
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first -- to me.
367Over and over, like a Tune --
The Recollection plays --
Drums off the Phantom Battlements
Cornets of Paradise --
Snatches, from Baptized Generations --
Cadences too grand
But for the Justified Processions
At the Lord's Right hand.
368How sick -- to wait -- in any place -- but thine --
I knew last night -- when someone tried to twine --
Thinking -- perhaps -- that I looked tired -- or alone --
Or breaking -- almost -- with unspoken pain --
And I turned -- ducal --
That right -- was thine --
One port -- suffices -- for a Brig -- like mine --
Ours be the tossing -- wild though the sea --
Rather than a Mooring -- unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo -- unladed -- here --
Rather than the "spicy isles --"
And thou -- not there --
369She lay as if at play
Her life had leaped away --
Intending to return --
But not so soon --
Her merry Arms, half dropt --
As if for lull of sport --
An instant had forgot --
The Trick to start --
Her dancing Eyes -- ajar --
As if their Owner were
Still sparkling through
For fun -- at you --
Her Morning at the door --
Devising, I am sure --
To force her sleep --
So light -- so deep --
370Heaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved --
The Site -- of it -- by Architect
Could not again be proved --
'Tis vast -- as our Capacity --
As fair -- as our idea --
To Him of adequate desire
No further 'tis, than Here --
371A precious -- mouldering pleasure -- 'tis --
To meet an Antique Book --
In just the Dress his Century wore --
A privilege -- I think --
His venerable Hand to take --
And warming in our own --
A passage back -- or two -- to make --
To Times when he -- was young --
His quaint opinions -- to inspect --
His thought to ascertain
On Themes concern our mutual mind --
The Literature of Man --
What interested Scholars -- most --
What Competitions ran --
When Plato -- was a Certainty --
And Sophocles -- a Man --
When Sappho -- was a living Girl --
And Beatrice wore
The Gown that Dante -- deified --
Facts Centuries before
He traverses -- familiar --
As One should come to Town --
And tell you all your Dreams -- were true --
He lived -- where Dreams were born --
His presence is Enchantment --
You beg him not to go --
Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads
And tantalize -- just so --
372I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery --
Others -- whose instant's wanting --
Would be Eternity --
The last -- a scanty Number --
'Twould scarcely fill a Two --
The first -- a Gnat's Horizon
Could easily outgrow --
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