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Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again than before—
Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more;Reason, 'tis true, may point the rocky shore,
And shew the danger, but can serve no more,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you'- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.Where, save as ghosts, we come no more,
May know what sweet majestic face
The gentle Prince of Players wore!Burned though light darkness some more…
All around flowers we bought;
We bought a bouquet.. What for?I'd strive for liberty no more,
But hug the glorious chains I wore.And the world closes its door
As the door of perception
Opens its doors once moreLook we but once nor before
Nor behind us, but straight on the skies;
Night is not then any more.And tender flesh to what before
Meant dampened feathers, nothing more.A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore;
At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,
Full ten pound weight and more.But now my Heart ye shall no more
Deceive, as you have heretofore:I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be--
The water comes ashore,My love should mend and sew no more.
And I would buy her a little quern,
Easy to turn on the kitchen floor.Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!Sure I shall do so, and much more:
But if I travel in your company,
You know the way to heaven's door.He that was our Brother sorrows sore!
Man goes to Man!
To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more.And many a treasure more,
The well-judged purchase and the gift
That graced his lettered store.Faint and perilous, far from shore,
No place to dream, but a place to die,—
The bottom of the sea once more.