I.
CHOICE.
Of all the souls that stand createI have elected one.When sense from spirit files away,And subterfuge is done;
When that which is and that which wasApart, intrinsic, stand,And this brief tragedy of fleshIs shifted like a sand;
When figures show their royal frontAnd mists are carved away, --Behold the atom I preferredTo all the lists of clay!
II.
I have no life but this,To lead it here;Nor any death, but lestDispelled from there;
Nor tie to earths to come,Nor action new,Except through this extent,The realm of you.
III.
Your riches taught me poverty.Myself a millionnaireIn little wealths, -- as girls could boast, --Till broad as Buenos Ayre,
You drifted your dominionsA different Peru;And I esteemed all poverty,For life's estate with you.
Of mines I little know, myself,But just the names of gems, --The colors of the commonest;And scarce of diadems
So much that, did I meet the queen,Her glory I should know:But this must be a different wealth,To miss it beggars so.
I 'm sure 't is India all dayTo those who look on youWithout a stint, without a blame, --Might I but be the Jew!
I 'm sure it is Golconda,Beyond my power to deem, --To have a smile for mine each day,How better than a gem!
At least, it solaces to knowThat there exists a gold,Although I prove it just in timeIts distance to behold!
It 's far, far treasure to surmise,And estimate the pearlThat slipped my simple fingers throughWhile just a girl at school!
IV.
THE CONTRACT.
I gave myself to him,And took himself for pay.The solemn contract of a lifeWas ratified this way.
The wealth might disappoint,Myself a poorer proveThan this great purchaser suspect,The daily own of Love
Depreciate the vision;But, till the merchant buy,Still fable, in the isles of spice,The subtle cargoes lie.
At least, 't is mutual risk, --Some found it mutual gain;Sweet debt of Life, -- each night to owe,Insolvent, every noon.
V.
THE LETTER.
"GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him --Tell him the page I didn't write;Tell him I only said the syntax,And left the verb and the pronoun out.Tell him just how the fingers hurried,Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow;And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,So you could see what moved them so.
"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled;You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,As if it held but the might of a child;You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.Tell him -- No, you may quibble there,For it would split his heart to know it,And then you and I were silenter.
"Tell him night finished before we finished,And the old clock kept neighing 'day!'And you got sleepy and begged to be ended --What could it hinder so, to say?Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious,But if he ask where you are hidUntil to-morrow, -- happy letter!Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!"
VI.
The way I read a letter 's this:'T is first I lock the door,And push it with my fingers next,For transport it be sure.
And then I go the furthest offTo counteract a knock;Then draw my little letter forthAnd softly pick its lock.
Then, glancing narrow at the wall,And narrow at the floor,For firm conviction of a mouseNot exorcised before,
Peruse how infinite I amTo -- no one that you know!And sigh for lack of heaven, -- but notThe heaven the creeds bestow.
VII.
Wild nights! Wild nights!Were I with thee,Wild nights should beOur luxury!
Futile the windsTo a heart in port, --Done with the compass,Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden!Ah! the sea!Might I but moorTo-night in thee!
VIII.
AT HOME.
The night was wide, and furnished scantWith but a single star,That often as a cloud it metBlew out itself for fear.
The wind pursued the little bush,And drove away the leavesNovember left; then clambered upAnd fretted in the eaves.
No squirrel went abroad;A dog's belated feetLike intermittent plush were heardAdown the empty street.
To feel if blinds be fast,And closer to the fireHer little rocking-chair to draw,And shiver for the poor,
The housewife's gentle task."How pleasanter," said sheUnto the sofa opposite,"The sleet than May -- no thee!"
IX.
POSSESSION.
Did the harebell loose her girdleTo the lover bee,Would the bee the harebell hallowMuch as formerly?
Did the paradise, persuaded,Yield her moat of pearl,Would the Eden be an Eden,Or the earl an earl?
X.
A charm invests a faceImperfectly beheld, --The lady dare not lift her veilFor fear it be dispelled.
But peers beyond her mesh,And wishes, and denies, --Lest interview annul a wantThat image satisfies.
XI.
THE LOVERS.
The rose did caper on her cheek,Her bodice rose and fell,Her pretty speech, like drunken men,Did stagger pitiful.
Her fingers fumbled at her work, --Her needle would not go;What ailed so smart a little maidIt puzzled me to know,
Till opposite I spied a cheekThat bore another rose;Just opposite, another speechThat like the drunkard goes;
A vest that, like the bodice, dancedTo the immortal tune, --Till those two troubled little clocksTicked softly into one.
XII.
In lands I never saw, they say,Immortal Alps look down,Whose bonnets touch the firmament,Whose sandals touch the town, --
Meek at whose everlasting feetA myriad daisies play.Which, sir, are you, and which am I,Upon an August day?
XIII.
The moon is distant from the sea,And yet with amber handsShe leads him, docile as a boy,Along appointed sands.
He never misses a degree;Obedient to her eye,He comes just so far toward the town,Just so far goes away.
Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand,And mine the distant sea, --Obedient to the least commandThine eyes impose on me.
XIV.
He put the belt around my life, --I heard the buckle snap,And turned away, imperial,My lifetime folding upDeliberate, as a duke would doA kingdom's title-deed, --Henceforth a dedicated sort,A member of the cloud.
Yet not too far to come at call,And do the little toilsThat make the circuit of the rest,And deal occasional smilesTo lives that stoop to notice mineAnd kindly ask it in, --Whose invitation, knew you notFor whom I must decline?
XV.
THE LOST JEWEL.
I held a jewel in my fingersAnd went to sleep.The day was warm, and winds were prosy;I said: "'T will keep."
I woke and chid my honest fingers, --The gem was gone;And now an amethyst remembranceIs all I own.
XVI.
What if I say I shall not wait?What if I burst the fleshly gateAnd pass, escaped, to thee?What if I file this mortal off,See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, --And wade in liberty?
They cannot take us any more, --Dungeons may call, and guns implore;Unmeaning now, to me,As laughter was an hour ago,Or laces, or a travelling show,Or who died yesterday!