Always the heavy air,
The dreadful cage, the low
Murmur of voices, where
Some Force goes to and fro
In an immense despair!

As through a haunted brain —
With tireless footfalls
The Obsession moves again,
Trying the floor, the walls,
Forever, but in vain.

In vain, proud Force! A might,
Shrewder than yours, did spin
Around your rage that bright
Prison of steel, wherein
You pace for my delight.

And O, my heart, what Doom,
What warier Will has wrought
The cage, within whose room
Paces your burning thought,

Always happy, always bright,
Never changes, day or night;
Always askin' 'bout the folks,
Always knows the latest jokes.
Entertains you and the wife —
Shows and dinners — bet your life!
Nothin' swifter ever ran
Than that same commission man.
Comes out West stock-meetin' time;
Then the cuss is in his prime,
Passin' out his line of talk
To the shippers on the walk.
Scatters watch-charm souvenirs;
Claims that he kin sell your steers
Fer more money than the rest;
Swears his outfit is the best .
Then, before you know it, he

Although your charms are many,
Although you're sweet and cute,
Although you equal any
Magnetic little beaut,
I'm sick of reading matter
Your many beaux turn out
In re your charming chatter,
In re your pretty pout.

I wish they'd stop their praising
Your eyes, your nose, your smile;
And cut their lyric phrasing
For just a little while.
I know their verses grip you —
But put them on the shelf! . . .
You see, I want to slip you
A verse or two myself.

Although the snow still lingers
Heaped on the ivy's blunt webbed fingers
And painting tree-trunks on one side,
Here in this sunlit ride
The fresh unchristened things appear,
Leaf, spathe and stem,
With crumbs of earth clinging to them
To show the way they came
But no flower yet to tell their name,
And one green spear
Stabbing a dead leaf from below
Kills winter at a blow.

Although mythological or personified description
is something I would be ashamed to attempt,
let me for a moment assume the position of the ancient poet
and state the following to the black, obscene nimbus:
I, a humble official, hoping to wash both mind and body
in the vast air glimmering above this summit,
and in the cold wind passing here with a fragrance of roses,
and in the terrifying blue etching of mountains and valleys,
have managed from today's business schedule
a few moments
and stand here, knowing their full value.

Although I had a check,
To give the mate is hard,
For I have found a neck
To keep my men in guard.
And you that hardy are
To give so great assay
Unto a man of war,
To drive his men away.

I rede you take good heed
And mark this foolish verse
For I will so provide
That I will have your ferse.
And when your ferse is had,
And all your war is done,
Then shall yourself be glad
To end that you begun.

For if by chance I win
Your person in the field,
Too late then come you in
Yourself to me to yield.

Alter? When the hills do.
Falter? When the sun
Question if his glory
Be the perfect one.

Surfeit? When the daffodil
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!

Prometheus, pitying men,
Dared the long wrath of gods,
Thongs and the vulture —
To bring to earth
The fire,
Before which I drowse,
In utter well-being.

Already, no more dreams of going to the capital;
only noble feelings of learning the hermit's life.
Quite poor, still I'll pawn my clothes
when I want to buy a painting;
invalid, I want to throw away my inkstone,
tired of requests for writing.
The stableboy burns piles of firewood
to scare off tigers at night;
a young girl knocks at the gate each morning,
come to sell us fish.
Tired, I rest my head on my books,
hungry, I just eat;
I laugh at myself for having such a simple plan for life.

Aloof within the day's enormous dome,
— — He holds unshared the silence of the sky.
— — Far down his bleak, relentless eyes descry
The eagle's empire and the falcon's home —
Far down, the galleons of sunset roam;
— — His hazards on the sea of morning lie;
— — Serene, he hears the broken tempest sigh
Where cold sierras gleam like scattered foam.

And least of all he holds the human swarm —
— — Unwitting now that envious men prepare
— — — To make their dream and its fulfillment one,
When, poised above the caldrons of the storm,