1755
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
1760
Elysium is as far as to
The very nearest Room
If in that Room a Friend await
Felicity or Doom –
What fortitude the Soul contains,
That it can so endure
The accent of a coming Foot –
The opening of a Door –
1764
The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows –
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night's delicious close,
Between the March and April line –
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.
It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation's sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.
It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.
An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear.
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.
1765
That Love is all there is
Is all we know of Love,
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.
1767
Sweet hours have perished here,
This is a mighty room –
Within it's precincts hopes have played
Now shadows in the tomb.
1768
Lad of Athens, faithful be
To thyself,
And Mystery –
All the rest is Perjury –
1770
Experiment escorts us last –
His pungent company
Will not allow an Axiom
An Opportunity –
1771
How fleet – how indiscreet an one –
how always wrong is Love –
The joyful little Deity
We are not scourged to serve –
1774
Too happy Time dissolves itself
And leaves no remnant by –
'Tis Anguish not a Feather hath
Or too much weight to fly –
1775
The Earth has many keys –
Where Melody is not
Is the Unknown Peninsula –
Beauty - is Nature's Fact –
But Witness for Her Land –
And Winess for Her Sea –
The Cricket is Her utmost
Of Elegy, to Me –
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