We talked as Girls do –
Fond, and late –
We speculated fair, on every subject, but the Grave –
Of our’s, none affair –

We handled Destinies, as cool –
As we – Disposers – be –
And God, a Quiet Party
to our authority –

But fondest, dwelt opon Ourself
As we eventual – be –
When Girls, to Women, softly raised
We – occupy – Degree –

We parted with a contract
To cherish, and to write
But Heaven made both, impossible
Before another night.

I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there –
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler –

I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner’s name –
For doubt, that I should know the sound –

I judged my features – jarred my hair –
I pushed my dimples by, and waited –
If they – twinkled back –
Conviction might, of me –

I told myself, “Take Courage, Friend –
That – was a former time –
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home”!

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at Home – 
With a Bobolink for a Chorister – 
And an Orchard, for a Dome – 

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice – 
I, just wear my Wings – 
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton – sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman – 
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last – 
I’m going, all along.

“Faith” is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!

Success is counted sweetest,
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purpose Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated – dying – 
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

Beauty crowds me till I die
Beauty mercy have on me
But if I expire today
Let it be in sight of thee – 

Apparently with no surprise
To any happy Flower
The Frost beheads it at it’s play –
In accidental power – 
The blonde Assassin passes on –
The Sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another Day
For an Approving God – 

A Route of Evanescence,
With a revolving Wheel – 
A Resonance of Emerald
A Rush of Cochineal – 

And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts it’s tumbled Head – 
The Mail from Tunis – probably,
An easy Morning’s Ride – 

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown – 
Who ponders this tremendous scene – 
This whole Experiment of Green – 
As if it were his own!