READ STUDY GUIDE: "I died for Beauty--but was scarce..." |
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Part I, Section 4:
TIME AND ETERNITY.
TIME AND ETERNITY.
| 1 | |
| One dignity delays for all, | |
| One mitred afternoon. | |
| None can avoid this purple, | |
| None evade this crown. | 5 |
| Coach it insures, and footmen, |
| Chamber and state and throng; |
| Bells, also, in the village, |
| As we ride grand along. |
| What dignified attendants, | 10 |
| What service when we pause! | |
| How loyally at parting | |
| Their hundred hats they raise! | |
| How pomp surpassing ermine, | |
| When simple you and I | 15 |
| Present our meek escutcheon, | |
| And claim the rank to die! | |
| Delayed till she had ceased to know, | 20 |
| Delayed till in its vest of snow | |
| An hour behind the fleeting breath, | |
| Later by just an hour than death,— | |
| 25 | |
| Could she have guessed that it would be; | |
| Could but a crier of the glee | |
| Had not the bliss so slow a pace,— | |
| Who knows but this surrendered face | 30 |
| Oh, if there may departing be | |
| Any forgot by victory | |
| Show them this meek apparelled thing, | 35 |
| That could not stop to be a king, | |
| Departed to the judgment, | 40 |
| A mighty afternoon; | |
| Great clouds like ushers leaning, | |
| Creation looking on. | |
| The flesh surrendered, cancelled, | |
| The bodiless begun; | 45 |
| Two worlds, like audiences, disperse | |
| And leave the soul alone. | |
| Safe in their alabaster chambers, | |
| Untouched by morning and untouched by noon, | 50 |
| Sleep the meek members of the resurrection, | |
| Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. | |
| Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine; | |
| Babbles the bee in a stolid ear; | |
| Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence,— | 55 |
| Ah, what sagacity perished here! | |
| Grand go the years in the crescent above them; | |
| Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row, | |
| Diadems drop and Doges surrender, | |
| Soundless as dots on a disk of snow. | 60 |
| On this long storm the rainbow rose, | |
| On this late morn the sun; | |
| The clouds, like listless elephants, | |
| Horizons straggled down. | 65 |
| The birds rose smiling in their nests, |
| The gales indeed were done; |
| Alas! how heedless were the eyes |
| On whom the summer shone! |
| The quiet nonchalance of death | 70 |
| No daybreak can bestir; | |
| The slow archangel's syllables | |
| Must awaken her. | |
| 75 | |
| My cocoon tightens, colors tease, |
| I'm feeling for the air; |
| A dim capacity for wings |
| Degrades the dress I wear. |
| A power of butterfly must be | 80 |
| The aptitude to fly, | |
| Meadows of majesty concedes | |
| And easy sweeps of sky. | |
| So I must baffle at the hint | |
| And cipher at the sign, | 85 |
| And make much blunder, if at last | |
| I take the clew divine. | |
| Exultation is the going | 90 |
| Of an inland soul to sea,— | |
| Past the houses, past the headlands, | |
| Into deep eternity! | |
| Bred as we, among the mountains, | |
| Can the sailor understand | 95 |
| The divine intoxication | |
| Of the first league out from land? | |
| Look back on time with kindly eyes, | |
| He doubtless did his best; | 100 |
| How softly sinks his trembling sun | |
| In human nature's west! | |
| A train went through a burial gate, | |
| A bird broke forth and sang, | 105 |
| And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat | |
| Till all the churchyard rang; | |
| And then adjusted his little notes, | |
| And bowed and sang again. | |
| Doubtless, he thought it meet of him | 110 |
| To say good-by to men. | |
| I died for beauty, but was scarce | |
| Adjusted in the tomb, | |
| When one who died for truth was lain | 115 |
| In an adjoining room. | |
| He questioned softly why I failed? | |
| "For beauty," I replied. | |
| "And I for truth,—the two are one; | |
| We brethren are," he said. | 120 |
| And so, as kinsmen met a night, |
| We talked between the rooms, |
| Until the moss had reached our lips, |
| And covered up our names. |
| 125 | |
| How many times these low feet staggered, | |
| Only the soldered mouth can tell; | |
| Try! can you stir the awful rivet? | |
| Try! can you lift the hasps of steel? | 130 |
| Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often, |
| Lift, if you can, the listless hair; |
| Handle the adamantine fingers |
| Never a thimble more shall wear. |
| Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window; | 135 |
| Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane; | |
| Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling— | |
| Indolent housewife, in daisies lain! | |
| 140 | |
| I like a look of agony, |
| Because I know it 's true; |
| Men do not sham convulsion, |
| Nor simulate a throe. |
| The eyes glaze once, and that is death. | 145 |
| Impossible to feign | |
| The beads upon the forehead | |
| By homely anguish strung. | |
| 150 | |
| That short, potential stir |
| That each can make but once, |
| That bustle so illustrious |
| 'T is almost consequence, |
| Is the eclat of death. | 155 |
| Oh, thou unknown renown | |
| That not a beggar would accept, | |
| Had he the power to spurn! | |
| I went to thank her, | 160 |
| But she slept; | |
| Her bed a funnelled stone, | |
| With nosegays at the head and foot, | |
| That travellers had thrown, | |
| Who went to thank her; | 165 |
| But she slept. | |
| 'T was short to cross the sea | |
| To look upon her like, alive, | |
| But turning back 't was slow. | |
| 170 | |
| I've seen a dying eye | |
| Run round and round a room | |
| In search of something, as it seemed, | |
| Then cloudier become; | |
| And then, obscure with fog, | 175 |
| And then be soldered down, | |
| Without disclosing what it be, | |
| 'T were blessed to have seen. | |
| 180 | |
| The clouds their backs together laid, | |
| The north begun to push, | |
| The forests galloped till they fell, | |
| The lightning skipped like mice; | |
| The thunder crumbled like a stuff— | 185 |
| How good to be safe in tombs, | |
| Where nature's temper cannot reach, | |
| Nor vengeance ever comes! | |
| I never saw a moor, | 190 |
| I never saw the sea; | |
| Yet know I how the heather looks, | |
| And what a wave must be. | |
| I never spoke with God, | |
| Nor visited in heaven; | 195 |
| Yet certain am I of the spot | |
| As if the chart were given. | |
| God permits industrious angels | 200 |
| Afternoons to play. | |
| I met one,—forgot my school-mates, | |
| All, for him, straightway. | |
| God calls home the angels promptly | |
| At the setting sun; | 205 |
| I missed mine. How dreary marbles, | |
| After playing Crown! | |
| To know just how he suffered would be dear; | |
| To know if any human eyes were near | 210 |
| To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze, | |
| Until it settled firm on Paradise. | |
| To know if he was patient, part content, | |
| Was dying as he thought, or different; | |
| Was it a pleasant day to die, | 215 |
| And did the sunshine face his way? | |
| What was his furthest mind, of home, or God, | |
| Or what the distant say | |
| At news that he ceased human nature | |
| On such a day? | 220 |
| And wishes, had he any? | |
| Just his sigh, accented, | |
| Had been legible to me. | |
| And was he confident until | |
| Ill fluttered out in everlasting well? | 225 |
| And if he spoke, what name was best, |
| What first, |
| What one broke off with |
| At the drowsiest? |
| Was he afraid, or tranquil? | 230 |
| Might he know | |
| How conscious consciousness could grow, | |
| Till love that was, and love too blest to be, | |
| Meet—and the junction be Eternity? | |
| 235 | |
| The last night that she lived, |
| It was a common night, |
| Except the dying; this to us |
| Made nature different. |
| We noticed smallest things,— | 240 |
| Things overlooked before, | |
| By this great light upon our minds | |
| Italicized, as 't were. | |
| That others could exist | |
| While she must finish quite, | 245 |
| A jealousy for her arose | |
| So nearly infinite. | |
| We waited while she passed; | |
| It was a narrow time, | |
| Too jostled were our souls to speak, | 250 |
| At length the notice came. | |
| She mentioned, and forgot; | |
| Then lightly as a reed | |
| Bent to the water, shivered scarce, | |
| Consented, and was dead. | 255 |
| And we, we placed the hair, |
| And drew the head erect; |
| And then an awful leisure was, |
| Our faith to regulate. |
| 260 | |
| Not in this world to see his face | |
| Sounds long, until I read the place | |
| Where this is said to be | |
| But just the primer to a life | 265 |
| Unopened, rare, upon the shelf, | |
| Clasped yet to him and me. | |
| And yet, my primer suits me so | |
| I would not choose a book to know | |
| Than that, be sweeter wise; | 270 |
| Might some one else so learned be, | |
| And leave me just my A B C, | |
| Himself could have the skies. | |
| The bustle in a house | 275 |
| The morning after death | |
| Is solemnest of industries | |
| Enacted upon earth,— | |
| The sweeping up the heart, | |
| And putting love away | 280 |
| We shall not want to use again | |
| Until eternity. | |
| I reason, earth is short, | |
| And anguish absolute, | 285 |
| And many hurt; | |
| But what of that? | |
| I reason, we could die: | |
| The best vitality | |
| Cannot excel decay; | 290 |
| But what of that? | |
| I reason that in heaven | |
| Somehow, it will be even, | |
| Some new equation given; | |
| But what of that? | 295 |
| Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? | |
| Not death; for who is he? | |
| The porter of my father's lodge | |
| As much abasheth me. | 300 |
| Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing |
| That comprehendeth me |
| In one or more existences |
| At Deity's decree. |
| Of resurrection? Is the east | 305 |
| Afraid to trust the morn | |
| With her fastidious forehead? | |
| As soon impeach my crown! | |
| 310 | |
| The sun kept setting, setting still; |
| No hue of afternoon |
| Upon the village I perceived,— |
| From house to house 't was noon. |
| The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; | 315 |
| No dew upon the grass, | |
| But only on my forehead stopped, | |
| And wandered in my face. | |
| My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, | |
| My fingers were awake; | 320 |
| Yet why so little sound myself | |
| Unto my seeming make? | |
| How well I knew the light before! | |
| I could not see it now. | |
| 'T is dying, I am doing; but | 325 |
| I'm not afraid to know. | |
| Two swimmers wrestled on the spar | |
| Until the morning sun, | |
| When one turned smiling to the land. | 330 |
| O God, the other one! | |
| The stray ships passing spied a face | |
| Upon the waters borne, | |
| With eyes in death still begging raised, | |
| And hands beseeching thrown. | 335 |
| Because I could not stop for Death, | |
| He kindly stopped for me; | |
| The carriage held but just ourselves | 340 |
| And Immortality. | |
| We slowly drove, he knew no haste, | |
| And I had put away | |
| My labor, and my leisure too, | |
| For his civility. | 345 |
| We passed the school where children played, |
| Their lessons scarcely done; |
| We passed the fields of gazing grain, |
| We passed the setting sun. |
| We paused before a house that seemed | 350 |
| A swelling of the ground; | |
| The roof was scarcely visible, | |
| The cornice but a mound. | |
| Since then 't is centuries; but each | |
| Feels shorter than the day | 355 |
| I first surmised the horses' heads | |
| Were toward eternity. | |
| She went as quiet as the dew | |
| From a familiar flower. | 360 |
| Not like the dew did she return | |
| At the accustomed hour! | |
| She dropt as softly as a star | |
| From out my summer's eve; | |
| Less skilful than Leverrier | 365 |
| It's sorer to believe! | |
| At last to be identified! | |
| At last, the lamps upon thy side, | 370 |
| The rest of life to see! | |
| Past midnight, past the morning star! | |
| Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are | |
| Between our feet and day! | |
| 375 | |
| Except to heaven, she is nought; |
| Except for angels, lone; |
| Except to some wide-wandering bee, |
| A flower superfluous blown; |
| Except for winds, provincial; | 380 |
| Except by butterflies, | |
| Unnoticed as a single dew | |
| That on the acre lies. | |
| The smallest housewife in the grass, | |
| Yet take her from the lawn, | 385 |
| And somebody has lost the face | |
| That made existence home! | |
| Death is a dialogue between | |
| The spirit and the dust. | 390 |
| "Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir, | |
| I have another trust." | |
| Death doubts it, argues from the ground. | |
| The Spirit turns away, | |
| Just laying off, for evidence, | 395 |
| An overcoat of clay. | |
| It was too late for man, | |
| But early yet for God; | |
| Creation impotent to help, | 400 |
| But prayer remained our side. | |
| How excellent the heaven, | |
| When earth cannot be had; | |
| How hospitable, then, the face | |
| Of our old neighbor, God! | 405 |
| When I was small, a woman died. | |
| To-day her only boy | |
| Went up from the Potomac, | 410 |
| His face all victory, | |
| To look at her; how slowly | |
| The seasons must have turned | |
| Till bullets clipt an angle, | |
| And he passed quickly round! | 415 |
| If pride shall be in Paradise |
| I never can decide; |
| Of their imperial conduct, |
| No person testified. |
| But proud in apparition, | 420 |
| That woman and her boy | |
| Pass back and forth before my brain, | |
| As ever in the sky. | |
| The daisy follows soft the sun, | 425 |
| And when his golden walk is done, | |
| He, waking, finds the flower near. | |
| "Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" | |
| 430 | |
| We are the flower, Thou the sun! | |
| Forgive us, if as days decline, | |
| Enamoured of the parting west, | |
| The peace, the flight, the amethyst, | 435 |
| No rack can torture me, | |
| My soul's at liberty | 440 |
| Behind this mortal bone | |
| There knits a bolder one | |
| You cannot prick with saw, | |
| Nor rend with scymitar. | |
| Two bodies therefore be; | 445 |
| Bind one, and one will flee. | |
| The eagle of his nest | |
| No easier divest | |
| And gain the sky, | |
| Than mayest thou, | 450 |
| Except thyself may be |
| Thine enemy; |
| Captivity is consciousness, |
| So's liberty. |
| 455 | |
| I lost a world the other day. | |
| Has anybody found? | |
| You'll know it by the row of stars | |
| Around its forehead bound. | 460 |
| A rich man might not notice it; |
| Yet to my frugal eye |
| Of more esteem than ducats. |
| Oh, find it, sir, for me! |
| 465 | |
| If I should n't be alive |
| When the robins come, |
| Give the one in red cravat |
| A memorial crumb. |
| If I could n't thank you, | 470 |
| Being just asleep, | |
| You will know I'm trying | |
| With my granite lip! | |
| Sleep is supposed to be, | 475 |
| By souls of sanity, | |
| The shutting of the eye. | |
| Sleep is the station grand | |
| Down which on either hand | |
| The hosts of witness stand! | 480 |
| Morn is supposed to be, |
| By people of degree, |
| The breaking of the day. |
| Morning has not occurred! | |
| That shall aurora be | 485 |
| East of eternity; | |
| One with the banner gay, |
| One in the red array,— |
| That is the break of day. |
| 490 | |
| I shall know why, when time is over, |
| And I have ceased to wonder why; |
| Christ will explain each separate anguish |
| In the fair schoolroom of the sky. |
| He will tell me what Peter promised, | 495 |
| And I, for wonder at his woe, | |
| I shall forget the drop of anguish | |
| That scalds me now, that scalds me now. | |
| I never lost as much but twice, | 500 |
| And that was in the sod; | |
| Twice have I stood a beggar | |
| Before the door of God! | |
| Angels, twice descending, | |
| Reimbursed my store. | 505 |
| Burglar, banker, father, | |
| I am poor once more! | |




