IV.

We cover thee, sweet face.

   Not that we tire of thee,

But that thyself fatigue of us;

   Remember, as thou flee,

We follow thee until

   Thou notice us no more,

And then, reluctant, turn away

   To con thee o'er and o'er,

And blame the scanty love

   We were content to show,

Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold

   If thou would'st take it now.

V.

ENDING.

That is solemn we have ended, —

   Be it but a play,

Or a glee among the garrets,

   Or a holiday,

Or a leaving home; or later,

   Parting with a world

We have understood, for better

   Still it be unfurled.

VI.

The stimulus, beyond the grave

   His countenance to see,

Supports me like imperial drams

   Afforded royally.

VII.

Given in marriage unto thee,

   Oh, thou celestial host!

Bride of the Father and the Son,

   Bride of the Holy Ghost!

Other betrothal shall dissolve,

   Wedlock of will decay;

Only the keeper of this seal

   Conquers mortality.

VIII.

That such have died enables us

   The tranquiller to die;

That such have lived, certificate

   For immortality.

IX.

They won't frown always, — some sweet day

   When I forget to tease,

They'll recollect how cold I looked,

   And how I just said 'please.'

Then they will hasten to the door

   To call the little child,

Who cannot thank them, for the ice

   That on her lisping piled.

X.

IMMORTALITY.

It is an honorable thought,

   And makes one lift one's hat,

As one encountered gentlefolk

   Upon a daily street,

That we've immortal place,

   Though pyramids decay,

And kingdoms, like the orchard,

   Flit russetly away.

XI.

The distance that the dead have gone

   Does not at first appear;

Their coming back seems possible

   For many an ardent year.

And then, that we have followed them

   We more than half suspect,

So intimate have we become

   With their dear retrospect.

XII.

How dare the robins sing,

   When men and women hear

Who since they went to their account

   Have settled with the year! —

Paid all that life had earned

   In one consummate bill,

And now, what life or death can do

   Is immaterial.

Insulting is the sun

   To him whose mortal light,

Beguiled of immortality,

   Bequeaths him to the night.

In deference to him

   Extinct be every hum,

Whose garden wrestles with the dew,

   At daybreak overcome!

XIII.

DEATH.

Death is like the insect

   Menacing the tree,

Competent to kill it,

   But decoyed may be.

Bait it with the balsam,

   Seek it with the knife,

Baffle, if it cost you

   Everything in life.

Then, if it have burrowed

   Out of reach of skill,

Ring the tree and leave it, —

   'T is the vermin's will.

XIV.

UNWARNED.

'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou

   No station in the day?

'T was not thy wont to hinder so, —

   Retrieve thine industry.

'T is noon, my little maid, alas!

   And art thou sleeping yet?

The lily waiting to be wed,

   The bee, dost thou forget?

My little maid, 't is night; alas,

   That night should be to thee

Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached

   Thy little plan to me,

Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,

   I might have aided thee.

XV.

Each that we lose takes part of us;

   A crescent still abides,

Which like the moon, some turbid night,

   Is summoned by the tides.

XVI.

Not any higher stands the grave

   For heroes than for men;

Not any nearer for the child

   Than numb three-score and ten.

This latest leisure equal lulls

   The beggar and his queen;

Propitiate this democrat

   By summer's gracious mien.

XVII.

ASLEEP.

As far from pity as complaint,

   As cool to speech as stone,

As numb to revelation

   As if my trade were bone.

As far from time as history,

   As near yourself to-day

As children to the rainbow's scarf,

   Or sunset's yellow play

To eyelids in the sepulchre.

   How still the dancer lies,

While color's revelations break,

   And blaze the butterflies!

XVIII.

THE SPIRIT.

'T is whiter than an Indian pipe,

   'T is dimmer than a lace;

No stature has it, like a fog,

   When you approach the place.

Not any voice denotes it here,

   Or intimates it there;

A spirit, how doth it accost?

   What customs hath the air?

This limitless hyperbole

   Each one of us shall be;

'T is drama, if (hypothesis)

   It be not tragedy!

XIX.

THE MONUMENT.

She laid her docile crescent down,

   And this mechanic stone

Still states, to dates that have forgot,

   The news that she is gone.

So constant to its stolid trust,

   The shaft that never knew,

It shames the constancy that fled

   Before its emblem flew.

XX.

Bless God, he went as soldiers,

   His musket on his breast;

Grant, God, he charge the bravest

   Of all the martial blest.

Please God, might I behold him

   In epauletted white,

I should not fear the foe then,

   I should not fear the fight.

XXI.

Immortal is an ample word

   When what we need is by,

But when it leaves us for a time,

   'T is a necessity.

Of heaven above the firmest proof

   We fundamental know,

Except for its marauding hand,

   It had been heaven below.

XXII.

Where every bird is bold to go,

   And bees abashless play,

The foreigner before he knocks

   Must thrust the tears away.

XXIII.