To tell the Beauty would decrease
To state the Spell demean --
There is a syllable-less Sea
Of which it is the sign --
My will endeavors for its word
And fails, but entertains
A Rapture as of Legacies --
Of introspective Mines --
To their apartment deep
No ribaldry may creep
Untumbled this abode
By any man but God --
Today or this noon
She dwelt so close
I almost touched her --
Tonight she lies
Past neighborhood
And bough and steeple,
Now past surmise.
'Twas comfort in her Dying Room
To hear the living Clock --
A short relief to have the wind
Walk boldly up and knock --
Diversion from the Dying Theme