A.
My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
I'm feeling for the air;
A dim capacity for wings
Degrades the dress I wear.
B.
Could she have guessed that it would be;
Could but a crier of the glee
Have climbed the distant hill;
Had not the bliss so slow a pace, —
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?
C.
One dignity delays for all,
One mitred afternoon.
None can avoid this purple,
None evade this crown.
D.
There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
E.
Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea, —
Past the houses, past the headlands,
Into deep eternity!