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A phantom in the night thy confidant for once,)
The first and last confession of the globe,
Outsurging, muttering from thy soul's abysms,
The tale of cosmic elemental passion,
Thou tellest to a kindred soul.

OF THAT BLITHE THROAT OF THINE

More than eighty-three degrees north about a good day's steaming distance to the Pole by one of our fast oceaners in clear water - Greely the explorer heard the song of a single snow-bird merrily sounding over the desolation. Of that blithe throat of thine from arctic bleak and blank, I'll mind the lesson, solitary bird — let me too welcome

chilling drifts, E'en the profoundest chill, as now — a torpid pulse, a

brain unnerv’d, Old age land-lock'd within its winter bay — (cold, cold, O

cold !) These snowy hairs, my feeble arm, my frozen feet, , For them thy faith, thy rule I take, and grave it to the

last;

Not summer's zones alone — not chants of youth, or

south's warm tides alone, But held by sluggish foes, pack'd in the northern ice, the

cumulus of years, These with gay heart I also sing.

THE UNITED STATES TO OLD WORLD CRITICS
Here first the duties of to-day, the lessons of the concrete,
Wealth, order, travel, shelter, products, plenty ;
As of the building of some varied, vast, perpetual edifice,
Whence to arise inevitable in time, the towering roofs, the

lamps,
The solid-planted spires tall shooting to the stars.

THE VOICE OF THE RAIN
And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here trans-

lated :

I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottom-

less sea,

Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether

changed, and yet the same, I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the

globe, And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent,

unborn; And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own

origin, and make pure and beautify it : (For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment,

wandering, Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)

SOON SHALL THE WINTER'S FOIL BE HERE
Soon shall the winter's foil be here;
Soon shall these icy ligatures unbind and melt — A little

while, And air, soil, wave, suffused shall be in softness, bloom

and growth a thousand forms shall rise From these dead clods and chills as from low burial graves. Thine eyes, ears --- all thy best attributes --- all that takes

cognizance of natural beauty, Shall wake and fill. Thou shalt perceive the simple

shows, the delicate miracles of earth, Dandelions, clover, the emerald grass, the early scents and

flowers, The arbutus under foot, the willow's yellow-green, the

blossoming plum and cherry; With these the robin, lark and thrush, singing their songs

- the Aitting bluebird ; For such the scenes the annual play brings on.

A PRAIRIE SUNSET
Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn,
The earth's whole amplitude and Nature's multiform

power consign'd for once to colors;

1

The light, the general air possess'd by them - colors till

now unknown, No limit, confine - not the Western sky alone -- the

high meridian — North, South, all, Pure luminous color fighting the silent shadows to the

last.

TWILIGHT
The soft voluptuous opiate shades,
The sun just gone, the eager light dispellid — (I too will

soon be gone, dispell’d)
A haze - nirwana - rest and night oblivion.

THE DISMANTLED SHIP
In some unused lagoon, some nameless bay,
On sluggish, lonesome waters, anchor'd near the shore,
An old, dismasted, gray and batter'd ship, disabled, done,
After free voyages to all the seas of earth, haul'd up at last

and hawser'd tight, Lies rusting, mouldering.

no more

AFTER THE SUPPER AND TALK
After the supper and talk — after the day is done,
As a friend from friends his final withdrawal prolonging,
Good-bye and Good-bye with emotional lips repeating,
(So hard for his hand to release those hands

will they meet, No more for communion of sorrow and joy, of old and

young, A far-stretching journey awaits him, to return no more,) Shunning, postponing severance — seeking to ward off the

last word ever so little, E'en at the exit-door turning — charges superfluous calling

back-e'en as he descends the steps, Something to eke out a minute additional — shadows of

nightfall deepening,

Farewells, message lessening - dimmer the forthgoer's

visage and form, Soon to be lost for aye in the darkness - loth, O so loth

to depart! Garrulous to the very last.

GOOD_BYE MY FANCY

TO THE SUN-SET BREEZE
Ah, whispering, something again, unseen,
Where late this heated day thou enterest at my window,

door,
Thou, laving, tempering all, cool-freshing, gently vitalizing
Me, old, alone, sick, weak-down, melted-worn with sweat;
Thou, nestling, folding close and firm yet soft, companion

better than talk, book, art, (Thou hast, О Nature ! elements ! utterance to my heart

beyond the rest — and this is of them,) So sweet thy primitive taste to breathe within thy sooth

ing fingers on my face and hands, Thou, messenger-magical strange bringer to body and

spirit of me, (Distances balk'd — occult medicines penetrating me from

head to foot,) I feel the sky, the prairies vast — I feel the mighty northern

lakes, I feel the ocean and the forest somehow I feel the globe

itself swift-swimming in space; Thou blown from lips so loved, now gone — haply from

endless store, God-sent, (For thou art spiritual, Godly, most of all known to my

sense) Minister to speak to me, here and now, what word has

never told, and cannot tell, Art thou not universal concrete's distillation ? Law's, all

Astronomy's last refinement ?
Hast thou no soul? Can I not know, identify thee?

WHEN THE FULL-GROWN POET CAME
When the full-grown poet came,
Out spake pleased Nature (the round impassive globe, with

all its shows of day and night,) saying, He is mine ; But out spake too the Soul of man, proud, jealous and

unreconciled, Nay, he is mine alone ; - Then the full-grown poet stood between the two, and

took each by the hand; And to-day and ever so stands, as blender, uniter, tightly

holding hands, Which he will never release until he reconciles the two, And wholly and joyously blends them.

A PERSIAN LESSON
For his o'erarching and last lesson the greybeard sufi,
In the fresh scent of the morning in the open air,
On the slope of a teeming Persian rose-garden,
Under an ancient chestnut-tree wide spreading its branches,
Spoke to the young priests and students.
« Finally my children, to envelop each word, each part of

the rest,

Allah is all, all, all — is immanent in every life and object, May-be at many and many-a-more removes — yet Allah,

Allah, Allah is there. “ Has the estray wander'd far ? Is the reason-why

strangely hidden ? Would you sound below the restless ocean of the entire

world? Would you know the dissatisfaction ? the urge and spur

of every life; The something never stilld — never entirely gone? the

invisible need of every seed ? “ It is the central urge in every atom, (Often unconscious, often evil, downfallen,) To return to its divine source and origin, however distant, Latent the same in subject and in object, without one

exception."

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