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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -

In Corners - till a Day

The Owner passed - identified -

And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -

And now We hunt the Doe -

And every time I speak for Him

The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light

Opon the Valley glow -

It is as a Vesuvian face

Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night - Our good Day done -

I guard My Master’s Head -

’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s

Deep Pillow - to have shared -

To foe of His - I’m deadly foe -

None stir the second time -

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -

Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He - may longer live

He longer must - than I -

For I have but the power to kill,

Without - the power to die -

Late 1863

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Zoom Meeting ID, if needed, 923 592 7237

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Zoom Meeting ID, if needed, 923 592 7237

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1844, Noah Webster's American Dictionary of the English language

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1844, Noah Webster's American Dictionary of the English language

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While the most recent Webster's dictionary is excellent in many ways, it does not have the quotations from Pope, Dryden, or any other poet.

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Why make it doubt—it hurts it so—
So sick—to guess—
So strong—to know—
So brave—upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself—and smile—And shake—
For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake—
But—the Instead—the Pinching fear
That Something—it did do—or dare—
Offend the Vision—and it flee—
And They no more remember me—
Nor ever turn to tell me why—
Oh, Master, This is Misery—

circa second half of 1862

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The face I carry with me—last—
When I go out of Time—
To take my Rank—by—in the West—
That face—will just be thine—

I'll hand it to the Angel—
That—Sir—was my Degree—
In Kingdoms—you have heard the Raised—
Refer to—possibly.

He'll take it—scan it—step aside—
Return—with such a crown
As Gabriel—never capered at—
And beg me put it on—

And then—he'll turn me round and round—
To an admiring sky—
As One that bore her Master's name—
Sufficent Royalty!

Autumn 1862

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Sunset at Night—is natural—
But Sunset on the Dawn
Reverses Nature—Master—
So Midnight's—due—at Noon.

Eclipses be—predicted—
And Science bows them in—
But do one face us suddenly—
Jehovah's Watch—is wrong.

autumn 1862

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A Wife – at daybreak – I shall be –

Sunrise – Hast thou a Flag for me?

At Midnight – I am but a Maid –

How short it takes to make a Bride –

Then – Midnight – I have passed from thee –

Unto the East –  and Victory –

Midnight – Good Night! – I hear them call –

The Angels bustle in the Hall –

Softly – my Future climbs the Stair –

I fumble at my Childhood's prayer –

So soon to be a Child – no more –

Eternity, I'm coming – Sir –

Master – I've seen the face – before –

spring 1861

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Mute thy Coronation—
Meek my Vive le roi,
Fold a tiny courtier
In thine Ermine, Sir,
There to rest revering
Till the pageant by,
I can murmur broken,
Master, It was I—

summer-autumn 1860

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Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.

Pray lead me to his bed!

I came to build the Bird's nest,

And sow the Early seed—

That when the snow creeps slowly

From off his chamber door—

Daisies point the way there—

And the Troubadour.

spring 1859