Green-eyed Care May prowl and glare And poke his snub, be-whiskered nose: But Door fits tight Against the Night: Through criss-cross cracks no evil goes.
Window is small: No room at all For Worry and Money, his shoulder-bones: Chimney is wide, But Smoke's inside And happy Smoke would smother his moans.
Be-whiskered Care May prowl out there: But I never heard He caught the Blue Bird!
Sidelong the Bird ran, Hard-eyed on the turned mould: Was door--window--wide? --Then Heart grew kettle-cold.
Might no wind-suckt curtain Dim that travelling Eye? Could Door's thick benediction Deafen: if he should cry?
Sidelong the Bird crept Into the stark door: His yellow, lidless eye! Foot chill to the stone floor!
... Then Smoke, that slender baby, To Hearth's white Niobe-breast Sank trembling--dead. Oh Bird, Bird, spare the rest!
He has bidden bats to flit In Window's wide mouth: Starlings to tumble, and mock Poor Pot's old rusty drouth:
And a wet canker, nip Those round-breasted stones That I hugged to strong walls With the love of my strained bones.
He bad lank Spider run, Grow busy, web me out With dusty trespass stretcht From mantel to kettle-spout.
Door, Window, Rafter, Chimney, Grow silent, die: All are dead: all moulder: Sole banished mourner I.
See how the Past rustles Stirring to life again ... Three whole years left I lockt Behind that window-pane.
He is a man in love with grass, He shivers at a tree: Thrill of wing in briar-bushes Wildly at his heart pushes Like the first, faint hint A lover is let see.
If he had known a wordless song As a bird he would sing; Who took delight in slim rabbits, Watched their delicate habits, --Waited, by the briar-bush, That flutter of wooing.
_Why did he break that small wing?_ The sun looks hollowly: Mocking's where the water goes; The breeze bitter in his nose: Mocking eyes wide burning --Lost, lost is he!
Cold shone the moon, with noise The night went by. Trees uttered things of woe: Bent grass dared not grow:
Ah desperate man with haggard eyes And hands that fence away the skies On rock and briar stumbling, Is it fear of the storm's rumbling, Of the hissing cold rain, Or lightning's tragic pain Drives you so madly? See, see the patient moon; How she her course keeps Through cloudy shallows and across black deeps, Now gone, now shines soon: Where's cause for fear?