Paura! Di chi ho paura?Commenta
Non della Morte - perché chi è Costei?
Il Portiere della casa di mio Padre
Allo stesso modo m'intimidisce!
Della Vita? Sarebbe strano ch'io temessi una cosa
Che è parte integrante di me
In una o due esistenze -
A seconda del caso -
Della Risurrezione? Ha l'Est
Paura di affidare al Mattino
La sua fronte schizzinosa?
Tanto varrebbe ricusare la mia Corona.
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?Commenta
Not Death - for who is He?
The Porter of my Father's Lodge
As much abasheth me!
Of Life? 'Twere odd I fear a thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or two existences -
Just as the case may be -
Of Resurrection? Is the East
Afraid to trust the Morn
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my Crown.
Of nearness to her sundered ThingsCommenta
The Soul has special times -
When Dimness - looks the Oddity -
Distinctness - easy - seems -
The Shapes we buried, dwell about,
Familiar, in the Rooms -
Untarnished by the Sepulchre,
The Mouldering Playmate comes -
In just the Jacket that he wore -
Long buttoned in the Mold
Since we - old mornings, Children - played -
Divided - by a world -
The Grave yields back her Robberies -
The Years, our pilfered Things -
Bright Knots of Apparitions
Salute us, with their wings -
As we - it were - that perished -
Themself - had just remained till we rejoin them -
And 'twas they, and not ourself
The Trees like Tassels - hit - and swung -Commenta
There seemed to rise a Tune
From Miniature Creatures
Accompanying the Sun -
Far Psalteries of Summer -
Enamoring the Ear
They never yet did satisfy -
Remotest - when most fair
The Sun shone whole at intervals -
Then Half - then utter hid -
As if Himself were optional
And had Estates of Cloud
Sufficient to enfold Him
Eternally from view -
Except it were a whim of His
To let the Orchards grow -
A Bird sat careless on the fence -
One gossipped in the Lane
On silver matters charmed a Snake
Just winding round a Stone -
Bright Flowers slit a Calyx
And soared upon a Stem
Like Hindered Flags - Sweet hoisted -
With Spices - in the Hem -
'Twas more - I cannot mention -
How mean - to those that see -
Of Nature's - Summer Day!
The Spider holds a Silver BallCommenta
In unperceived Hands -
And dancing softly as He knits
His Coil of Pearl - unwinds -
He plies from Nought to Nought -
In unsubstantial Trade -
Supplants our Tapestries with His -
In half the period -
An Hour to rear supreme
His Theories of Light -
Then dangle from the Housewife's Broom -
His Sophistries - forgot.