XXIII.
A COUNTRY BURIAL.
Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.
Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.
XXIV.
GOING.
On such a night, or such a night,
Would anybody care
If such a little figure
Slipped quiet from its chair,
So quiet, oh, how quiet!
That nobody might know
But that the little figure
Rocked softer, to and fro?
On such a dawn, or such a dawn,
Would anybody sigh
That such a little figure
Too sound asleep did lie
For chanticleer to wake it, --
Or stirring house below,
Or giddy bird in orchard,
Or early task to do?
There was a little figure plump
For every little knoll,
Busy needles, and spools of thread,
And trudging feet from school.
Playmates, and holidays, and nuts,
And visions vast and small.
Strange that the feet so precious charged
Should reach so small a goal!
XXV.
Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws.
The general rose decays;
But this, in lady's drawer,
Makes summer when the lady lies
In ceaseless rosemary.
XXVI.
I lived on dread; to those who know
The stimulus there is
In danger, other impetus
Is numb and vital-less.
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