Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights,Commenta
With plain inspecting face -
"Did you" or "Did you not," to ask -
'Tis "Conscience," Childhood's Nurse -
With Martial Hand she strokes the Hair
Upon my wincing Head -
"All" Rogues "shall have their part in" what -
The Phosphorous of God.
'Tis not the swaying frame we miss -Commenta
It is the steadfast Heart,
That had it beat a thousand years,
With Love alone had bent -
It's fervor the electric Oar,
That bore it through the Tomb -
Ourselves, denied the privilege,
Few, yet enough,Commenta
Enough is One -
To that etherial throng
Have not each one of us the right
To stealthily belong.
Declaiming Waters none may dread -Commenta
But Waters that are still
Are so for that most fatal cause
In Nature - they are full.
Immured in Heaven!Commenta
What a Cell!
Let every Bondage be,
Thou sweetest of the Universe,
Like that which ravished thee.