We talked as Girls do --
Fond, and late --
We speculated fair, on every subject, but the Grave --
Of ours, none affair --

We handled Destinies, as cool --
As we -- Disposers -- be --
And God, a Quiet Party
To our Authority --

But fondest, dwelt upon Ourself
As we eventual -- be --
When Girls to Women, softly raised
We -- occupy -- Degree --

We parted with a contract
To cherish, and to write
But Heaven made both, impossible
Before another night.

Empty my Heart, of Thee --
Its single Artery --
Begin, and leave Thee out --
Simply Extinction's Date --

Much Billow hath the Sea --
One Baltic -- They --
Subtract Thyself, in play,
And not enough of me
Is left -- to put away --
"Myself" meanth Thee --

Erase the Root -- no Tree --
Thee -- then -- no me --
The Heavens stripped --
Eternity's vast pocket, picked --

I cried at Pity -- not at Pain --
I heard a Woman say
"Poor Child" -- and something in her voice
Convicted me -- of me --

So long I fainted, to myself
It seemed the common way,
And Health, and Laughter, Curious things --
To look at, like a Toy --

To sometimes hear "Rich people" buy
And see the Parcel rolled --
And carried, I supposed -- to Heaven,
For children, made of Gold --

But not to touch, or wish for,
Or think of, with a sigh --
And so and so -- had been to me,
Had God willed differently.

I wish I knew that Woman's name --
So when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears
For fear I hear her say

She's "sorry I am dead" -- again --
Just when the Grave and I --
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep,
Our only Lullaby --

The Night was wide, and furnished scant
With but a single Star --
That often as a Cloud it met --
Blew out itself -- for fear --

The Wind pursued the little Bush --
And drove away the Leaves
November left -- then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves --

No Squirrel went abroad --
A Dog's belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, he heard
Adown the empty Street --

To feel if Blinds be fast --
And closer to the fire --
Her little Rocking Chair to draw --
And shiver for the Poor --

The Housewife's gentle Task --
How pleasanter -- said she
Unto the Sofa opposite --
The Sleet -- than May, no Thee --

Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth --
Widths out of the Sun --
And look -- and shudder, and block your breath --
And deem to be alone

In such a place, what horror,
How Goblin it would be --
And fly, as 'twere pursuing you?
Then Loneliness -- looks so --

Did you ever look in a Cannon's face --
Between whose Yellow eye --
And yours -- the Judgment intervened --
The Question of "To die" --

Extemporizing in your ear
As cool as Satyr's Drums --
If you remember, and were saved --
It's liker so -- it seems --

To interrupt His Yellow Plan
The Sun does not allow
Caprices of the Atmosphere --
And even when the Snow

Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy
Directly in His Eye --
Does not so much as turn His Head
Busy with Majesty --

'Tis His to stimulate the Earth --
And magnetize the Sea --
And bind Astronomy, in place,
Yet Any passing by

Would deem Ourselves -- the busier
As the Minutest Bee
That rides -- emits a Thunder --
A Bomb -- to justify --