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The Soul has Bandaged moments --
When too appalled to stir --
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her --

Salute her -- with long fingers --
Caress her freezing hair --
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover -- hovered -- o'er --
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme -- so -- fair --

The soul has moments of Escape --
When bursting all the doors --
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee -- delirious borne --
Long Dungeoned from his Rose --
Touch Liberty -- then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise --

The Soul's retaken moments --
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue --

Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their -- low Brows --
Or Bees -- that thought the Summer's name
Some rumor of Delirium,
No Summer -- could -- for Them --

Or Arctic Creatures, dimly stirred --
By Tropic Hint -- some Travelled Bird
Imported to the Wood --

Or Wind's bright signal to the Ear --
Making that homely, and severe,
Contented, known, before --

The Heaven -- unexpected come,
To Lives that thought the Worshipping
A too presumptuous Psalm --

Her smile was shaped like other smiles --
The Dimples ran along --
And still it hurt you, as some Bird
Did hoist herself, to sing,
Then recollect a Ball, she got --
And hold upon the Twig,
Convulsive, while the Music broke --
Like Beads -- among the Bog --

No Crowd that has occurred
Exhibit -- I suppose
That General Attendance
That Resurrection -- does --

Circumference be full --
The long restricted Grave
Assert her Vital Privilege --
The Dust -- connect -- and live --

On Atoms -- features place --
All Multitudes that were
Efface in the Comparison --
As Suns -- dissolve a star --

Solemnity -- prevail --
Its Individual Doom
Possess each separate Consciousness --
August -- Absorbed -- Numb --

What Duplicate -- exist --
What Parallel can be --
Of the Significance of This --
To Universe -- and Me?

Beauty -- be not caused -- It Is --
Chase it, and it ceases --
Chase it not, and it abides --

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow -- when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro' it --
Deity will see to it
That You never do it --

He parts Himself -- like Leaves --
And then -- He closes up --
Then stands upon the Bonnet
Of Any Buttercup --

And then He runs against
And oversets a Rose --
And then does Nothing --
Then away upon a Jib -- He goes --

And dangles like a Mote
Suspended in the Noon --
Uncertain -- to return Below --
Or settle in the Moon --

What come of Him -- at Night --
The privilege to say
Be limited by Ignorance --
What come of Him -- That Day --

The Frost -- possess the World --
In Cabinets -- be shown --
A Sepulchre of quaintest Floss --
An Abbey -- a Cocoon --

Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night
Had scarcely deigned to lie --
When, stirring, for Belief's delight,
My Bride had slipped away --

If 'twas a Dream -- made solid -- just
The Heaven to confirm --
Or if Myself were dreamed of Her --
The power to presume --

With Him remain -- who unto Me --
Gave -- even as to All --
A Fiction superseding Faith --
By so much -- as 'twas real --

'Twas warm -- at first -- like Us --
Until there crept upon
A Chill -- like frost upon a Glass --
Till all the scene -- be gone.

The Forehead copied Stone --
The Fingers grew too cold
To ache -- and like a Skater's Brook --
The busy eyes -- congealed --

It straightened -- that was all --
It crowded Cold to Cold --
It multiplied indifference --
As Pride were all it could --

And even when with Cords --
'Twas lowered, like a Weight --
It made no Signal, nor demurred,
But dropped like Adamant.