136
Have you a Brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so -
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
that any brook is there,
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there -
Why, look out for the little brook in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying from the hills,
And the bridges often go -
And later, in August may be -
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook of life,
Some burning noon go dry!
320
We play at Paste -
Till, qualified for Pearl -
Then, drop the Paste -
And deem ourself a fool -
The shapes – though – were similar -
And our new Hands
Learned Gem – Tactics –
Practicing Sands -
341
Agreat pain, a formal feeling comes -
The Nerves sit cerimonious, like Tombs -
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go around -
Of ground, on Air, or Ought -
A Wodden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone -
This is the Hour of Lead -
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go -
370
Heaven 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 desir
No further 'tis, then Here –
384
No Rack can torture me -
My soul – at Liberty –
Behind this mortal Bone
There knits a bolder One -
You Cannot prick with saw -
Nor pierce with Cimitar -
Two Bodies – therefore be -
Bind one – The Other fly -
The Eagle of his Nest
No easier divest -
And gain the Sky
Than mayest Thou -
Except Thyself may be
Thine Enemy -
Captivity is Consciousness -
So's Liberty.
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