| There�s a certain slant of light, Winter afternoons, That oppress, like he heft Of Cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt, it gives us We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the meanings are. None may teach it, any, �Tis the seal despair. An imperial affliction Sent us of the air. When it comes, the landscape listens, Shadows hold their breath... When it goes, �tis like the distance On the look of death... ----------------------- Did our best moment last, �Twould supersede the heaven A few, and they by risk, procure So this sort are not given. Except as stimulants in Cases of despair, Or stupor the reserve These heavenly moments are A grant of the divine, That certain as it comes, Withdraws, and leaves the dazzled soul In her unfurnished rooms. ------------------- I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted to the tomb When one who died for truth, was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly �Why I failed??� �For beauty�, I replied �And I for truth, themself are one, We brethen are.�, he said. And so, as kinsmen, met a night We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names. ------------------ There is a pain so utter, It swallows substance up, Then covers the abyss with trance, So memory can stop Around, across, upon it, As one within a swoon Goes safely where an open eye Would drop him, bone by bone. ----------------- They shut me up in prose, As when a little girl, they put me in the closet, Because they liked me �still�. Still!! Could themself have peeped And seen my brain go round, They might as wise have lodged a bird For treason in the pound. Himself has but to will And easy as a star, Look down upon captivity, And laugh. No more have I. -------------------- Remorse is a memory awake, Her parties all astir, A presence of departed acts, At window, and at door. It�s past set down before the soul, And lighted with a match, Perusal to facilitate, And help belief to stretch. Remorse is cureless, the disease Not even God can heal. For �tis His institution, and The adequate of hell. |
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