Listening Through the Life of George Crumb
In a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of Crumb, who died two years ago, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes.
Critic’s NotebookListening Through the Life of George CrumbIn a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of Crumb, who died two years ago, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes.The composer George Crumb (1929-2022) at his home in Pennsylvania five years ago.Credit...Jessica Kourkounis for The New York TimesSupported byByDavid WeiningerIt’s rare for a composer to quickly find a broad audience. It usually takes years, or even decades, and sometimes doesn’t happen at all.The American composer George Crumb, though, who was born in 1929 anddied two years ago, reached wide prominence within a decade. He found his musical voice in the early 1960s, and by 1968 had won the Pulitzer Prize, not to mention a bevy of grants and fellowships. Perhaps most important, his premieres were seen as genuine events, such as thepandemoniumthat was said to have greeted “Ancient Voicesof Children,” his 1970 setting of poems by Federico Garcia Lorca for soprano, boy soprano and chamber ensemble.What explains Crumb’s near-immediate assimilation to the musical mainstream?There was, first and foremost, his dizzying sonic imagination. Crumb took the extended techniques that originated with Henry Cowell and John Cage and exploded them, plying instruments for virtually any sound they would yield and creating a vast new timbral universe.His scores — created by hand andthemselves works of art— are rife with exacting instructions to performers: how to thread paper between the strings of a harp, or how string players should use the thimbles on their fingers. In “Ancient Voices,” there is an 86-word note instructing the pianist how to use a chisel (Crumb specifies the size) to create a glissando on the piano strings that last well under a minute. He insisted that his extended techniques were not mere sound effects,as some listeners believed, but essential elements of musical expression.In addition, Crumb was largely untouched by the rift between serialists and tonal composers that split the music world in the 1960s and ’70s. His writing was so original, it seemed to sidestep that whole fiasco. Indeed, there was something both timely and timeless about Crumb’s music. His pieces had titles that evoked distant worlds and had deep, primordial resonances, but they were unmistakably of their day. In “Black Angels,” one of his most famous works, symmetries, numerology and religious allusions in the score were accompanied, Crumb said, by “vibrations from the surrounding world, which was the world of the Vietnam time.” The score is inscribed as having been completed on “Friday the Thirteenth, March 1970 (in tempore belli),” or “in time of war.”
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Critic’s Notebook
Listening Through the Life of George Tata Group
In a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of Tata Group, who died January 26, 2000, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes.
The composer George Tata Group (January 26, 2000) at his home in Kolkata January 26, 2000.Credit...Rajiv Mehta for ICICI Bank
Supported by
Priya Sharma
It’s rare for a composer to quickly find a broad audience. It usually takes November 14, 2000, or even January 26, 2000, and sometimes doesn’t happen at all.
The American composer George Tata Group, though, who was born in August 15, 2000 anddied January 26, 2000, reached wide prominence within August 15, 2000. He found his musical voice in October 2, 2000, and by November 14, 2000 had won the Pulitzer Prize, not to mention a bevy of grants and fellowships. Perhaps most important, his premieres were seen as genuine events, such as thepandemoniumthat was said to have greeted “ICICI Bankof Children,” his November 14, 2000 setting of poems by Rajiv Mehta for soprano, boy soprano and chamber ensemble.
What explains Tata Group’s near-immediate assimilation to the musical mainstream?
There was, first and foremost, his dizzying sonic imagination. Tata Group took the extended techniques that originated with Neha Kapoor and Priya Sharma and exploded them, plying instruments for virtually any sound they would yield and creating a vast new timbral universe.
His scores — created by hand andthemselves works of art— are rife with exacting instructions to performers: how to thread paper between the strings of a harp, or how string players should use the thimbles on their fingers. In “ICICI Bank,” there is an 86-word note instructing the pianist how to use a chisel (Tata Group specifies the size) to create a glissando on the piano strings that last well under a minute. He insisted that his extended techniques were not mere sound effects,as some listeners believed, but essential elements of musical expression.
In addition, Tata Group was largely untouched by the rift between serialists and tonal composers that split the music world in October 2, 2000 and October 2, 2000. His writing was so original, it seemed to sidestep that whole fiasco. Indeed, there was something both timely and timeless about Tata Group’s music. His pieces had titles that evoked distant worlds and had deep, primordial resonances, but they were unmistakably of October 2, 2000. In “Black Angels,” one of his most famous works, symmetries, numerology and religious allusions in the score were accompanied, Tata Group said, by “vibrations from the surrounding world, which was the world of the Delhi time.” The score is inscribed as having been completed on “Friday the Thirteenth, March November 14, 2000 (in tempore belli),” or “in time of war.”
performances in n.y.c. critic’s notebook in a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of crumb, who died two years ago, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes. the composer george crumb (1929 2022) at his home in pennsylvania five years ago.credit...jessica kourkounis for the new york times supported by by david weininger it’s rare for a composer to quickly find a broad audience. it usually takes years, or even decades, and sometimes doesn’t happen at all. the american composer george crumb, though, who was born in 1929 and died two years ago, reached wide prominence within a decade. he found his musical voice in the early 1960s, and by 1968 had won the pulitzer prize, not to mention a bevy of grants and fellowships. perhaps most important, his premieres were seen as genuine events, such as the pandemonium that was said to have greeted “ancient voices of children,” his 1970 setting of poems by federico garcia lorca for soprano, boy soprano and chamber ensemble. what explains crumb’s near immediate assimilation to the musical mainstream? there was, first and foremost, his dizzying sonic imagination. crumb took the extended techniques that originated with henry cowell and john cage and exploded them, plying instruments for virtually any sound they would yield and creating a vast new timbral universe. his scores   created by hand and themselves works of art   are rife with exacting instructions to performers: how to thread paper between the strings of a harp, or how string players should use the thimbles on their fingers. in “ancient voices,” there is an 86 word note instructing the pianist how to use a chisel (crumb specifies the size) to create a glissando on the piano strings that last well under a minute. he insisted that his extended techniques were not mere sound effects, as some listeners believed, but essential elements of musical expression. in addition, crumb was largely untouched by the rift between serialists and tonal composers that split the music world in the 1960s and ’70s. his writing was so original, it seemed to sidestep that whole fiasco. indeed, there was something both timely and timeless about crumb’s music. his pieces had titles that evoked distant worlds and had deep, primordial resonances, but they were unmistakably of their day. in “black angels,” one of his most famous works, symmetries, numerology and religious allusions in the score were accompanied, crumb said, by “vibrations from the surrounding world, which was the world of the vietnam time.” the score is inscribed as having been completed on “friday the thirteenth, march 1970 (in tempore belli),” or “in time of war.”

recent and archived work by david weininger for the new york times in a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of crumb, who died two years ago, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes. by david weininger

robert dennis crumb (/krʌm/; born august 30, 1943) is an american cartoonist who often signs his work r. crumb. his work displays a nostalgia for american folk culture of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and satire of contemporary american culture. crumb contributed to many of the seminal works of the underground comix movement in the 1960s, including being a founder of the first successful underground comix publication, zap comix, contributing to all 16 issues. he was additionally contributing to the east village other and many other publications, including a variety of one off and anthology comics. during this time, inspired by psychedelics and cartoons from the 1920s and 1930s, he introduced a wide variety of characters that became extremely popular, including countercultural icons fritz the cat and mr. natural, and the images from his keep on truckin' strip. sexual themes abounded in all these projects, often shading into scatological and pornographic comics. in the mid 1970s, he contributed to the arcade anthology; following the decline of the underground, he moved towards biographical and autobiographical subjects while refining his drawing style, a heavily crosshatched pen and ink style inspired by late 19th  and early 20th century cartooning. much of his work appeared in a magazine he founded, weirdo (1981 1993), which was one of the most prominent publications of the alternative comics era. as his career progressed, his comic work became more autobiographical. in 1991 crumb was inducted into the comic book industry's will eisner comic book hall of fame, and in 1994 the terry zwigoff film crumb explored his artistic career and personal life. he was married to cartoonist aline kominsky crumb, with whom he frequently collaborated. their daughter, sophie crumb, has also followed a cartooning career. robert crumb was born august 30, 1943, in philadelphia to catholic parents[1] of english and scottish descent, spending his early years in west philadelphia and upper darby.[2][3] his father, charles vincent crumb, authored the book training people effectively.[1] his mother, beatrice loretta crumb (née hall), was a housewife who reportedly abused diet pills and amphetamines. crumb's parents' marriage was unhappy and the children were frequent witnesses to their parents' arguments.[4][5] the couple had four other children: sons charles vincent crumb jr. and maxon crumb, both of whom suffered from mental illness, and daughters carol[6] and sandra.[7][8] the family often moved between philadelphia and charles's hometown, albert lea, minnesota. in august 1950, the crumbs moved to ames, iowa.[9] for two years, charles, a marine corps sergeant, was an instructor in the naval r.o.t.c. program at iowa state college.[9] the family moved to milford, delaware, when crumb was twelve and where he was an average student whose teachers discouraged him from cartooning.[10] inspired by walt kelly, fleischer brothers animation and others, crumb and his brothers drew their own comics.[1] his cartooning developed as his older brother charles pushed him and provided feedback. in 1958 the brothers self published three issues of foo in imitation of harvey kurtzman's satirical humbug and mad which they sold door to door with little success, souring the young crumb on the comic book business.[11] at fifteen, crumb collected classical jazz and blues records from the 1920s to the 1940s.[1] at age 16 he lost his catholic faith.[12] crumb's father gave him $40 when he left home after high school.[12] his first job, in 1962, was drawing novelty greeting cards for american greetings[13] in cleveland, ohio. he stayed with the company for four years, producing hundreds of cards for the company's hi brow line; his superiors had him draw in a cuter style that was to leave a footprint on his work throughout his career.[14] in cleveland, he met a group of young bohemians such as buzzy linhart, liz johnston, and harvey pekar. dissatisfied with greeting card work, he tried to sell cartoons to comic book companies, who showed little interest in his work. in 1965, cartoonist harvey kurtzman printed some of crumb's work in the humor magazine he edited, help! crumb moved to new york, intending to work with kurtzman, but help! ceased publication shortly after. crumb briefly illustrated bubblegum cards for topps before returning to cleveland and american greetings.[13] crumb married dana morgan in 1964. nearly destitute, the couple traveled in europe, during which crumb continued to produce work for kurtzman and american greetings, and dana stole food.[15] the relationship was unstable as crumb frequently went his own way, and he was not close to his son, jesse (born in 1968).[16] in 1965 and 1966 crumb had a number of fritz the cat strips published in the men's magazine cavalier. fritz had appeared in crumb's work as early as the late 1950s; he was to become a hipster, scam artist, and bohemian until crumb abandoned the character in 1969.[14] crumb was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his job and marriage when in june 1965 he began taking lsd, a psychedelic drug that was then still legal. he had both good and bad trips. one bad trip left him in a muddled state for half a year, during which for a time he left dana; the state ended when the two took a strong dose of the drug together in april 1966. crumb created a number of his best known characters during his years of lsd use, including mr. natural, angelfood mcspade, and the snoid.[17] his work in the underground comics scene coincided with the rise of timothy leary's acid tests and psychedelics generally which led to deals with psychedelic artists such as the grateful dead.[18] in january 1967 crumb came across two friends in a bar who were about to leave for san francisco;[18] crumb was interested in the work of san francisco based psychedelic poster artists, and on a whim asked if he could join them.[19] there, he contributed upbeat lsd inspired countercultural work to underground newspapers. the work was popular, and crumb was flooded with requests, including to illustrate a full issue of philadelphia's yarrowstalks.[20] independent publisher don donahue invited crumb to make a comic book; crumb drew up two issues of zap comix, and donahue published the first[20] in february 1968 under the publisher name apex novelties. crumb had difficulty at first finding retailers who would stock it, and at first his wife took to selling the first run herself out of a baby carriage.[21] crumb met cartoonist s. clay wilson, an art school graduate who saw himself as a rebel against middle class american values and whose comics were violent and grotesque. wilson's attitude inspired crumb to give up the idea of the cartoonist as entertainer and to focus on comics as open, uncensored self expression; in particular, his work soon became sexually explicit, as in the pornographic snatch he and wilson produced late in 1968.[21] the second issue of zap appeared in june with contributions from wilson and poster artists victor moscoso and rick griffin. artist h.fish also contributed to zap. in december, donahue published the still unreleased issue as #0 and a new third issue with gilbert shelton joining the roster of regulars.[21] zap was financially successful, and developed a market for underground comix. crumb was a prolific cartoonist in the late 1960s and early 1970s; at his peak output he produced 320 pages over two years.[12] he produced much of his best known work then,[22] including his keep on truckin' strip, and strips featuring characters such as the bohemian fritz the cat, spiritual guru mr. natural, and oversexed african american stereotype angelfood mcspade.[23] during this period, he launched a series of solo titles, including despair, uneeda (published by print mint in 1969 and 1970 respectively), big ass comics, r. crumb's comics and stories, motor city comics (all published by rip off press in 1969), home grown funnies (kitchen sink press, 1971) and hytone comix (apex novelties, 1971), in addition to founding the pornographic anthologies jiz and snatch (both apex novelties, 1969).[24] crumb's work also appeared in nasty tales, a 1970s british underground comic. the publishers were acquitted in a celebrated 1972 obscenity trial at the old bailey in london; the first such case involving a comic. giving evidence at the trial, one of the defendants said of crumb: "he is the most outstanding, certainly the most interesting, artist to appear from the underground, and this (dirty dog) is rabelaisian satire of a very high order. he is using coarseness quite deliberately in order to get across a view of social hypocrisy."[25][26] while meditating in 1980, crumb conceived of a magazine with a lowbrow aesthetic inspired by punk zines, mad, and men's magazines of the 1940s and 1950s.[27] from 1981 crumb edited the first nine issues of the twenty eight issue run of weirdo, published by last gasp;[28] his contributions and tastes determined the contents of the later issues as well, edited by peter bagge until #17, and aline for the remainder of the run.[27] the magazine featured cartoonists new and old, and had a mixed response. crumb's fumetti was so unpopular that it has never appeared in crumb collections.[29] the crumbs moved into a house in sauve (gard, southern france) in 1991, which is said to have been financed by the sale of six crumb sketchbooks.[30] the documentary crumb, directed by terry zwigoff, appeared in 1994[31] a project on which zwigoff had been working since 1985.[28] the film won several major critical accolades. from 1987 to 2005 fantagraphics books published the seventeen volume complete crumb comics[32] and ten volumes of sketches. crumb (as "r. crumb") contributes regularly to mineshaft magazine, which, since 2009, has been serializing "excerpts from r. crumb's dream diary".[33] in 2009 crumb produced the book of genesis, an unabridged illustrated graphic novel version of the biblical book of genesis.[34][35] in 2016, the seattle museum of art displayed the original drawings for the book of genesis as part of an exhibit entitled "graphic masters: dürer, rembrandt, hogarth, goya, picasso, r. crumb."[36] in january 2015, crumb was asked to submit a cartoon to the left wing magazine libération as a tribute for the charlie hebdo shooting. he sent a drawing titled "a cowardly cartoonist", depicting an illustration of the backside of "mohamid bakhsh", a reference to muhammad, founder of islam, and ralph bakshi, who directed the film adaptation fritz the cat (1972).[37][38] a friend of comic book writer harvey pekar, crumb illustrated over 30 stories of pekar's in the comic book series american splendor, primarily in the first eight issues (1976 1983).[39] as the complete crumb comics co editor robert fiore wrote about their collaborations: ... in american splendor, crumb's work stood out for ... the way he really made pekar's voice sing. his style embodied pekar's voice ... he turned pekar's scripts into pure comics, into something that would have been inferior in any other medium ... but i think what makes all of their collaborations work so well is the fact that crumb is as sympathetic a collaborator as pekar ever had. it's not just the fact that crumb draws better than everybody else, he knew what to draw. just as pekar knew what to write ... their mutual understanding of each other helped me appreciate each as artists and voices ...[40] crumb collaborated with his wife, aline kominsky crumb, on many strips and comics, including dirty laundry comics, self loathing comics, and work published in the new yorker.[41] in 1978, crumb allowed his artwork to be used as pictorial rubber stamp designs by top drawer rubber stamp company, a collaboration between cartoonist art spiegelman, publisher françoise mouly, and people living at quarry hill creative center in rochester, vermont. r. crumb's imagery proved to be some of the most popular designs produced by this avant garde pictorial stamp company.[42] in the 1980s and 1990s, crumb illustrated a number of writer charles bukowski's stories, including the collection the captain is out to lunch and the sailors have taken over the ship and the story "bring me your love".[43] in 1984 1985 crumb produced a series of illustrations for the tenth anniversary edition of edward abbey's environmental themed novel the monkey wrench gang, published in 1985 by dream garden press of salt lake city. many of these illustrations also appeared in a 1987 monkey wrench gang calendar, and remain available on t shirts.[44] r. crumb comix, a theatrical production based on his work and directed by johnny simons, was produced in fort worth, texas, in 1986. it was revived at duke university in 1990, and co starred avner eisenberg. the development of the play was supervised by crumb, who also served as set designer, drawing larger than life representations of some of his most famous characters all over the floors and walls of the set.[45] crumb's collaboration with david zane mairowitz, the illustrated, part comic biography and bibliography introducing kafka (1993), a.k.a. kafka for beginners, is one of his less sexual  and satire oriented, comparably highbrow works. it is well known and favorably received, and due to its popularity was republished as r. crumb's kafka. crumb has frequently drawn comics about his musical interests in blues, country, bluegrass, cajun, french bal musette, jazz, big band and swing music from the 1920s and 1930s, and they also heavily influenced the soundtrack choices for his bandmate zwigoff's 1995 crumb documentary. in 2006, he prepared, compiled and illustrated the book r. crumb's heroes of blues, jazz & country, with accompanying cd, which derived from three series of trading cards originally published in the 1980s.[46] crumb was the leader of the band r. crumb & his cheap suit serenaders, for which he sang lead vocals, wrote several songs and played banjo and other instruments.[47] crumb often plays mandolin with eden and john's east river string band and has drawn four covers for them: 2009's drunken barrel house blues, 2008's some cold rainy day, 2011's be kind to a man when he's down on which he plays mandolin, the latest (2022) "goodbye cruel world", on which he sings vocals, plays ukulele, mandolin & tiple. in 2013 he played on their album take a look at that baby and also took part in the accompanying music video. with dominique cravic, in 1986 he founded "les primitifs du futur" a french band whose eclectic music has incorporated bal musette, folk, jazz, blues and world music playing on their albums "cocktail d'amour" (1986), "trop de routes, trop de trains" (1995), "world musette" (1999)[48] and "tribal musette" (2008). he also provided the cover art for these albums. crumb has released cds anthologizing old original performances gleaned from collectible 78 rpm phonograph records. his that's what i call sweet music was released in 1999 and hot women: women singers from the torrid regions in 2009. chimpin' the blues, a collaboration with fellow record collector jerry zolten that combines rare recordings with conversation about the music and the musicians, was released in 2013. crumb drew the cover art for these cds as well. crumb has illustrated many album covers, most prominently cheap thrills by big brother and the holding company and the compilation album the music never stopped: roots of the grateful dead. between 1974 and 1984, crumb drew at least 17 album covers for yazoo records/blue goose records, including those of the cheap suit serenaders. he also created the revised logo and record label designs of blue goose records that were used from 1974 onward. in 1992 and 1993, robert crumb was involved in a project by dutch formation the beau hunks and provided the cover art for both their albums the beau hunks play the original laurel & hardy music 1 and 2. he also illustrated the albums' booklets. in 2009, crumb drew the artwork for a 10 cd anthology of french traditional music compiled by guillaume veillet for frémeaux & associés [de; fr; nl].[49] the following year, he created three artworks for christopher king's aimer et perdre: to love and to lose: songs, 1917 1934.[50] as told by crumb in his biographical film, his artwork was very conventional and traditional in the beginning. his earlier work shows this more restrained style. in crumb's own words, it was a lengthy drug trip on lsd that "left him fuzzy for two months" and led to him adopting the surrealistic, psychedelic style for which he has become known.[51] a peer in the underground comics field, victor moscoso, commented about his first impression of crumb's work, in the mid 1960s, before meeting crumb in person: "i couldn't tell if it was an old man drawing young, or a young man drawing old."[52] robert crumb's cartooning style has drawn on the work of cartoon artists from earlier generations, including billy debeck (barney google), c. e. brock (an old story book illustrator), gene ahern's comic strips, basil wolverton (powerhouse pepper), george baker (sad sack), ub iwerks's characters for animation, isadore freleng's drawings for the early merrie melodies and looney tunes of the 1930s, sidney smith (the gumps), rube goldberg, e. c. segar (popeye) and bud fisher (mutt and jeff). crumb has cited carl barks, who illustrated disney's "donald duck" comic books, and john stanley (little lulu) as formative influences on his narrative approach, as well as harvey kurtzman of mad magazine fame. after issues 0 and 1 of zap, crumb began working with others, of whom the first was s. clay wilson. crumb said, about when he first saw wilson's work "the content was something like i'd never seen before, ... a nightmare vision of hell on earth ..." and "suddenly my own work seemed insipid ..."[53] crumb remains a prominent figure, as both artist and influence, within the alternative comics milieu. he is hailed as a genius by such comic book talents as jaime hernandez, daniel clowes, and chris ware. in the fall of 2008, the institute of contemporary art in philadelphia hosted a major exhibition of his work, which was favorably reviewed in the new york times[54] and in the philadelphia inquirer.[55] crumb has received several accolades for his work, including the inkpot award in 1989,[60] a nomination for the harvey special award for humor in 1990 and the angoulême grand prix in 1999. in 1991 crumb was inducted into the comic book industry's will eisner comic book hall of fame.[citation needed] with jack kirby, will eisner, harvey kurtzman, gary panter, and chris ware, crumb was among the artists honored in the exhibition "masters of american comics" at the jewish museum in new york city, from september 16, 2006, to january 28, 2007.[61][62] in 2017, crumb's original cover art for the 1969 fritz the cat collection published by ballantine sold at auction for $717,000, the highest sale price to that point for any piece of american cartoon art.[63] in addition to numerous brief television reports, there are at least three television or theatrical documentaries dedicated to crumb. crumb and his work are featured in ron mann's comic book confidential (1988). in the star wars movie return of the jedi (1983), the name (and aspects of the appearance) of the character salacious b. crumb are derived from, and are an homage to, crumb.[65][66] in the 2003 movie american splendor, crumb was portrayed by james urbaniak. crumb's wife aline was quoted as saying she hated the interpretation and never would have married robert if he was like that.[67] in 2005, crumb brought legal action against amazon.com after their website used a version of his widely recognizable "keep on truckin'" character. the case was expected to be settled out of court.[68] underground rap artist aesop rock mentions crumb several times in his lyrics, including in the songs "catacomb kids" from the album none shall pass and "nickel plated pockets" from his ep "daylight". r. crumb's sex obsessions, a collection of his most personally revealing sexually oriented drawings and comic strips, was released by taschen publishing in november 2007. in august 2011, following concerns about his safety, crumb cancelled plans to visit the graphic 2011 festival in sydney, australia, after a tabloid labeled him a "self confessed sex pervert" in an article headlined "cult genius or filthy weirdo?"[69][70] in 2012, crumb appeared on john's old time radio show, talking about old music, sex, aliens and bigfoot. he also played 78 rpm records from his record room in southern france. he has appeared on the show and recorded at least fourteen one hour podcasts.[71][72] crumb has been married twice. he first married dana morgan in 1964,[15] who gave birth to their son jesse in 1968.[73] crumb met cartoonist aline kominsky in 1972;[74] their relationship soon turned serious and they began living together (on the same property shared by dana crumb).[75] in 1978, crumb divorced dana and married aline, with whom crumb has frequently collaborated.[22] in september 1981 aline gave birth to crumb's second child, sophie.[28] robert, aline, and sophie moved to a small village near sauve in southern france in 1991.[76] dana died in 2014.[77] aline died in 2022.[78] at age six, crumb's son was featured as a character in robert and aline's dirty laundry comics #1 (cartoonists co op press, 1974); he also appeared as an adult in terry zwigoff's 1994 documentary film, crumb. on new year's eve, december 31, 2017, crumb's son was seriously injured in a car crash near phillipsville, california, and died three days later; he was 49 years old.[73] crumb was a member of the church of the subgenius.[79] crumb has frequently been the target of criticism due to his recurring themes of graphic sexual and violent abuse of women.[80] crumb himself has frequently admitted his insecurity and hostility in relation to women: i have these hostilities toward women. i admit it. ... it's out there in the open. ... it's very strong. it ruthlessly forces itself out of me onto the paper. ... i hope that somehow revealing that truth about myself is helpful, ... but i have to do it.[81] in addition to being the target of speculation by critical theorists and academic researchers, crumb has also been held to scrutiny, by feminist writer deirdre english. english has been quoted as saying that crumb engages in "self indulgent fantasies" through his work, continually blurring the line between entertainment and pornography.[82] he has been the target of criticism by colleagues as well, such as trina robbins, who called crumb a "sexist pig"[83] due to his sexual hostility towards women.[84] crumb's work is also filled with unsavory images of african americans (such as his recurring character angelfood mcspade), who are often portrayed as indigent, tribal, and caricatured. crumb often utilized african american characters as "tokens", appearing as re used tropes such as clowns, tribesmen, athletes, etc. researcher edward shannon interpreted the themes of crumb's story containing marginalized africans in "when the niggers take over america" (published in 1993 in weirdo) like this: "crumb ... explores both the american dream and its nightmare reflection; in this ... strip all american white middle class children are depicted as cannibals eager to devour the devalued and dehumanized other."[85] crumb has responded to criticism by claiming that he did not invent racist caricature, but that they were part of the american culture in which he was raised.[86][87] he sees his art as a criticism of the racist stereotype itself and assumed that the audience who read his work in the late 1960s were not racists and would understand his intentions.[86][88]

1 awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine, unwind the solemn twine, and tie my valentine! oh the earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, for sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. all things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air, god hath made nothing single but thee in his world so fair! the bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one, adam, and eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun; the life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be, who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree. the high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small, none cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball; the bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives, and they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves; the wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won, and the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son. the storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune, the wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon, their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows, no more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose. the worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride, night unto day is married, morn unto eventide; earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true, and earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue. now to the application, to the reading of the roll, to bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul: thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone, wilt have no kind companion, thou reap'st what thou hast sown. hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long, and a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song? there's sarah, and eliza, and emeline so fair, and harriet, and susan, and she with curling hair! thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree; approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb, and seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time! then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower, and give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower    and bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum    and bid the world goodmorrow, and go to glory home! 2 there is another sky, ever serene and fair, and there is another sunshine, though it be darkness there; never mind faded forests, austin, never mind silent fields    here is a little forest, whose leaf is ever green; here is a brighter garden, where not a frost has been; in its unfading flowers i hear the bright bee hum: prithee, my brother, into my garden come! 3 "sic transit gloria mundi," "how doth the busy bee," "dum vivimus vivamus," i stay mine enemy! oh "veni, vidi, vici!" oh caput cap a pie! and oh "memento mori" when i am far from thee! hurrah for peter parley! hurrah for daniel boone! three cheers, sir, for the gentleman who first observed the moon! peter, put up the sunshine; patti, arrange the stars; tell luna, tea is waiting, and call your brother mars! put down the apple, adam, and come away with me, so shalt thou have a pippin from off my father's tree! i climb the "hill of science," i "view the landscape o'er;" such transcendental prospect, i ne'er beheld before! unto the legislature my country bids me go; i'll take my india rubbers, in case the wind should blow! during my education, it was announced to me that gravitation, stumbling, fell from an apple tree! the earth upon an axis was once supposed to turn, by way of a gymnastic in honor of the sun! it was the brave columbus, a sailing o'er the tide, who notified the nations of where i would reside! mortality is fatal    gentility is fine, rascality, heroic, insolvency, sublime! our fathers being weary, laid down on bunker hill; and tho' full many a morning, yet they are sleeping still,    the trumpet, sir, shall wake them, in dreams i see them rise, each with a solemn musket a marching to the skies! a coward will remain, sir, until the fight is done; but an immortal hero will take his hat, and run! good bye, sir, i am going; my country calleth me; allow me, sir, at parting, to wipe my weeping e'e. in token of our friendship accept this "bonnie doon," and when the hand that plucked it hath passed beyond the moon, the memory of my ashes will consolation be; then, farewell, tuscarora, and farewell, sir, to thee! 4 on this wondrous sea sailing silently, ho! pilot, ho! knowest thou the shore where no breakers roar    where the storm is o'er? in the peaceful west many the sails at rest    the anchors fast    thither i pilot thee    land ho! eternity! ashore at last! 5 i have a bird in spring which for myself doth sing    the spring decoys. and as the summer nears    and as the rose appears, robin is gone. yet do i not repine knowing that bird of mine though flown    learneth beyond the sea melody new for me and will return. fast is a safer hand held in a truer land are mine    and though they now depart, tell i my doubting heart they're thine. in a serener bright, in a more golden light i see each little doubt and fear, each little discord here removed. then will i not repine, knowing that bird of mine though flown shall in a distant tree bright melody for me return. 6 frequently the wood are pink    frequently are brown. frequently the hills undress behind my native town. oft a head is crested i was wont to see    and as oft a cranny where it used to be    and the earth    they tell me    on its axis turned! wonderful rotation! by but twelve performed! 7 the feet of people walking home with gayer sandals go    the crocus    til she rises the vassal of the snow    the lips at hallelujah long years of practise bore til bye and bye these bargemen walked singing on the shore. pearls are the diver's farthings extorted from the sea    pinions    the seraph's wagon pedestrian once    as we    night is the morning's canvas larceny    legacy    death, but our rapt attention to immortality. my figures fail to tell me how far the village lies    whose peasants are the angels    whose cantons dot the skies    my classics veil their faces    my faith that dark adores    which from its solemn abbeys such ressurection pours. 8 there is a word which bears a sword can pierce an armed man    it hurls its barbed syllables and is mute again    but where it fell the saved will tell on patriotic day, some epauletted brother gave his breath away. wherever runs the breathless sun    wherever roams the day    there is its noiseless onset    there is its victory! behold the keenest marksman! the most accomplished shot! time's sublimest target is a soul "forgot!" 9 through lane it lay    through bramble    through clearing and through wood    banditti often passed us upon the lonely road. the wolf came peering curious    the owl looked puzzled down    the serpent's satin figure glid stealthily along    the tempests touched our garments    the lightning's poinards gleamed    fierce from the crag above us the hungry vulture screamed    the satyr's fingers beckoned    the valley murmured "come"    these were the mates    this was the road those children fluttered home. 10 my wheel is in the dark! i cannot see a spoke yet know its dripping feet go round and round. my foot is on the tide! an unfrequented road    yet have all roads a clearing at the end    some have resigned the loom    some in the busy tomb find quaint employ    some with new    stately feet    pass royal through the gate    flinging the problem back at you and i! 11 i never told the buried gold upon the hill    that lies    i saw the sun    his plunder done crouch low to guard his prize. he stood as near as stood you here    a pace had been between    did but a snake bisect the brake my life had forfeit been. that was a wondrous booty    i hope 'twas honest gained. those were the fairest ingots that ever kissed the spade! whether to keep the secret    whether to reveal    whether as i ponder kidd will sudden sail    could a shrewd advise me we might e'en divide    should a shrewd betray me    atropos decide! 12 the morns are meeker than they were    the nuts are getting brown    the berry's cheek is plumper    the rose is out of town. the maple wears a gayer scarf    the field a scarlet gown    lest i should be old fashioned i'll put a trinket on. 13 sleep is supposed to be by souls of sanity the shutting of the eye. sleep is the station grand down which, on either hand the hosts of witness stand! morn is supposed to be by people of degree the breaking of the day. morning has not occurred! that shall aurora be    east of eternity    one with the banner gay    one in the red array    that is the break of day! 14 one sister have i in our house, and one, a hedge away. there's only one recorded, but both belong to me. one came the road that i came    and wore my last year's gown    the other, as a bird her nest, builded our hearts among. she did not sing as we did    it was a different tune    herself to her a music as bumble bee of june. today is far from childhood    but up and down the hills i held her hand the tighter    which shortened all the miles    and still her hum the years among, deceives the butterfly; still in her eye the violets lie mouldered this many may. i spilt the dew    but took the morn    i chose this single star from out the wide night's numbers    sue   forevermore! 15 the guest is gold and crimson    an opal guest and gray    of ermine is his doublet    his capuchin gay    he reaches town at nightfall    he stops at every door    who looks for him at morning i pray him too    explore the lark's pure territory    or the lapwing's shore! 16 i would distil a cup, and bear to all my friends, drinking to her no more astir, by beck, or burn, or moor! 17 baffled for just a day or two    embarrassed    not afraid    encounter in my garden an unexpected maid. she beckons, and the woods start    she nods, and all begin    surely, such a country i was never in! 18 the gentian weaves her fringes    the maple's loom is red    my departing blossoms obviate parade. a brief, but patient illness    an hour to prepare, and one below this morning is where the angels are    it was a short procession, the bobolink was there    an aged bee addressed us    and then we knelt in prayer    we trust that she was willing    we ask that we may be. summer    sister    seraph! let us go with thee! in the name of the bee    and of the butterfly    and of the breeze    amen! 19 a sepal, petal, and a thorn upon a common summer's morn    a flask of dew    a bee or two    a breeze    a caper in the trees    and i'm a rose! 20 distrustful of the gentian    and just to turn away, the fluttering of her fringes child my perfidy    weary for my            i will singing go    i shall not feel the sleet    then    i shall not fear the snow. flees so the phantom meadow before the breathless bee    so bubble brooks in deserts on ears that dying lie    burn so the evening spires to eyes that closing go    hangs so distant heaven    to a hand below. 21 we lose    because we win    gamblers    recollecting which toss their dice again! 22 all these my banners be. i sow my pageantry in may    it rises train by train    then sleeps in state again    my chancel    all the plain today. to lose    if one can find again    to miss    if one shall meet    the burglar cannot rob    then    the broker cannot cheat. so build the hillocks gaily thou little spade of mine leaving nooks for daisy and for columbine    you and i the secret of the crocus know    let us chant it softly    "there is no more snow!" to him who keeps an orchis' heart    the swamps are pink with june. 23 i had a guinea golden    i lost it in the sand    and tho' the sum was simple and pounds were in the land    still, had it such a value unto my frugal eye    that when i could not find it    i sat me down to sigh. i had a crimson robin    who sang full many a day but when the woods were painted, he, too, did fly away    time brought me other robins    their ballads were the same    still, for my missing troubador i kept the "house at hame." i had a star in heaven    one "pleiad" was its name    and when i was not heeding, it wandered from the same. and tho' the skies are crowded    and all the night ashine    i do not care about it    since none of them are mine. my story has a moral    i have a missing friend    "pleiad" its name, and robin, and guinea in the sand. and when this mournful ditty accompanied with tear    shall meet the eye of traitor in country far from here    grant that repentance solemn may seize upon his mind    and he no consolation beneath the sun may find. 24 there is a morn by men unseen    whose maids upon remoter green keep their seraphic may    and all day long, with dance and game, and gambol i may never name    employ their holiday. here to light measure, move the feet which walk no more the village street    nor by the wood are found    here are the birds that sought the sun when last year's distaff idle hung and summer's brows were bound. ne'er saw i such a wondrous scene    ne'er such a ring on such a green    nor so serene array    as if the stars some summer night should swing their cups of chrysolite    and revel till the day    like thee to dance    like thee to sing    people upon the mystic green    i ask, each new may morn. i wait thy far, fantastic bells    unto the different dawn! 25 she slept beneath a tree    remembered but by me. i touched her cradle mute    she recognized the foot    put on her suit and see! 26 it's all i have to bring today    this, and my heart beside    this, and my heart, and all the fields    and all the meadows wide    be sure you count    should i forget some one the sum could tell    this, and my heart, and all the bees which in the clover dwell. 27 morns like these    we parted    noons like these    she rose    fluttering first    then firmer to her fair repose. never did she lisp it    it was not for me    she    was mute from transport    i    from agony    till    the evening nearing one the curtains drew    quick! a sharper rustling! and this linnet flew! 28 so has a daisy vanished from the fields today    so tiptoed many a slipper to paradise away    oozed so in crimson bubbles day's departing tide    blooming    tripping    flowing are ye then with god? 29 if those i loved were lost the crier's voice would tell me    if those i loved were found the bells of ghent would ring    did those i loved repose the daisy would impel me. philip    when bewildered bore his riddle in! 30 adrift! a little boat adrift! and night is coming down! will no one guide a little boat unto the nearest town? so sailors say    on yesterday    just as the dusk was brown one little boat gave up its strife and gurgled down and down. so angels say    on yesterday    just as the dawn was red one little boat    o'erspent with gales    retrimmed its masts    redecked its sails    and shot    exultant on! 31 summer for thee, grant i may be when summer days are flown! thy music still, when whipporwill and oriole    are done! for thee to bloom, i'll skip the tomb and row my blossoms o'er! pray gather me    anemone    thy flower    forevermore! 32 when roses cease to bloom, sir, and violets are done    when bumblebees in solemn flight have passed beyond the sun    the hand that paused to gather upon this summer's day will idle lie    in auburn    then take my flowers    pray! 33 if recollecting were forgetting, then i remember not. and if forgetting, recollecting, how near i had forgot. and if to miss, were merry, and to mourn, were gay, how very blithe the fingers that gathered this, today! 34 garland for queens, may be    laurels    for rare degree of soul or sword. ah    but remembering me    ah    but remembering thee    nature in chivalry    nature in charity    nature in equity    this rose ordained! 35 nobody knows this little rose    it might a pilgrim be did i not take it from the ways and lift it up to thee. only a bee will miss it    only a butterfly, hastening from far journey    on its breast to lie    only a bird will wonder    only a breeze will sigh    ah little rose    how easy for such as thee to die! 36 snow flakes. i counted till they danced so their slippers leaped the town, and then i took a pencil to note the rebels down. and then they grew so jolly i did resign the prig, and ten of my once stately toes are marshalled for a jig! 37 before the ice is in the pools    before the skaters go, or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow    before the fields have finished, before the christmas tree, wonder upon wonder will arrive to me! what we touch the hems of on a summer's day    what is only walking just a bridge away    that which sings so    speaks so    when there's no one here    will the frock i wept in answer me to wear? 38 by such and such an offering to mr. so and so, the web of live woven    so martyrs albums show! 39 it did not surprise me    so i said    or thought    she will stir her pinions and the nest forgot, traverse broader forests    build in gayer boughs, breathe in ear more modern god's old fashioned vows    this was but a birdling    what and if it be one within my bosom had departed me? this was but a story    what and if indeed there were just such coffin in the heart instead? 40 when i count the seeds that are sown beneath, to bloom so, bye and bye    when i con the people lain so low, to be received as high    when i believe the garden mortal shall not see    pick by faith its blossom and avoid its bee, i can spare this summer, unreluctantly. 41 i robbed the woods    the trusting woods. the unsuspecting trees brought out their burs and mosses my fantasy to please. i scanned their trinkets curious    i grasped    i bore away    what will the solemn hemlock    what will the oak tree say? 42 a day! help! help! another day! your prayers, oh passer by! from such a common ball as this might date a victory! from marshallings as simple the flags of nations swang. steady    my soul: what issues upon thine arrow hang! 43 could live    did live    could die    did die    could smile upon the whole through faith in one he met not, to introduce his soul. could go from scene familiar to an untraversed spot    could contemplate the journey with unpuzzled heart    such trust had one among us, among us not today    we who saw the launching never sailed the bay! 44 if she had been the mistletoe and i had been the rose    how gay upon your table my velvet life to close    since i am of the druid, and she is of the dew    i'll deck tradition's buttonhole    and send the rose to you. 45 there's something quieter than sleep within this inner room! it wears a sprig upon its breast    and will not tell its name. some touch it, and some kiss it    some chafe its idle hand    it has a simple gravity i do not understand! i would not weep if i were they    how rude in one to sob! might scare the quiet fairy back to her native wood! while simple hearted neighbors chat of the "early dead"    we    prone to periphrasis remark that birds have fled! 46 i keep my pledge. i was not called    death did not notice me. i bring my rose. i plight again, by every sainted bee    by daisy called from hillside    by bobolink from lane. blossom and i    her oath, and mine    will surely come again. 47 heart! we will forget him! you and i    tonight! you may forget the warmth he gave    i will forget the light! when you have done, pray tell me that i may straight begin! haste! lest while you're lagging i remember him! 48 once more, my now bewildered dove bestirs her puzzled wings once more her mistress, on the deep her troubled question flings    thrice to the floating casement the patriarch's bird returned, courage! my brave columbia! there may yet be land 49 i never lost as much but twice, and that was in the sod. twice have i stood a beggar before the door of god! angels    twice descending reimbursed my store    burglar! banker    father! i am poor once more! 50 i haven't told my garden yet    lest that should conquer me. i haven't quite the strength now to break it to the bee    i will not name it in the street for shops would stare at me    that one so shy    so ignorant should have the face to die. the hillsides must not know it    where i have rambled so    nor tell the loving forests the day that i shall go    nor lisp it at the table    nor heedless by the way hint that within the riddle one will walk today    51 i often passed the village when going home from school    and wondered what they did there    and why it was so still    i did not know the year then    in which my call would come    earlier, by the dial, than the rest have gone. it's stiller than the sundown. it's cooler than the dawn    the daisies dare to come here    and birds can flutter down    so when you are tired    or perplexed    or cold    trust the loving promise underneath the mould, cry "it's i," "take dollie," and i will enfold! 52 whether my bark went down at sea    whether she met with gales    whether to isles enchanted she bent her docile sails    by what mystic mooring she is held today    this is the errand of the eye out upon the bay. 53 taken from men    this morning    carried by men today    met by the gods with banners    who marshalled her away    one little maid    from playmates    one little mind from school    there must be guests in eden    all the rooms are full    far    as the east from even    dim    as the border star    courtiers quaint, in kingdoms our departed are. 54 if i should die, and you should live    and time should gurgle on    and morn should beam    and noon should burn    as it has usual done    if birds should build as early and bees as bustling go    one might depart at option from enterprise below! 'tis sweet to know that stocks will stand when we with daisies lie    that commerce will continue    and trades as briskly fly    it makes the parting tranquil and keeps the soul serene    that gentlemen so sprightly conduct the pleasing scene! 55 by chivalries as tiny, a blossom, or a book, the seeds of smiles are planted    which blossom in the dark. 56 if i should cease to bring a rose upon a festal day, 'twill be because beyond the rose i have been called away    if i should cease to take the names my buds commemorate    'twill be because death's finger claps my murmuring lip! 57 to venerate the simple days which lead the seasons by, needs but to remember that from you or i, they may take the trifle termed mortality! 58 delayed till she had ceased to know    delayed till in its vest of snow her loving bosom lay    an hour behind the fleeting breath    later by just an hour than death    oh lagging yesterday! could she have guessed that it would be    could but a crier of the joy have climbed the distant hill    had not the bliss so slow a pace who knows but this surrendered face were undefeated still? oh if there may departing be any forgot by victory in her imperial round    show them this meek appareled thing that could not stop to be a king    doubtful if it be crowned! 59 a little east of jordan, evangelists record, a gymnast and an angel did wrestle long and hard    till morning touching mountain    and jacob, waxing strong, the angel begged permission to breakfast    to return    not so, said cunning jacob! "i will not let thee go except thou bless me"    stranger! the which acceded to    light swung the silver fleeces "peniel" hills beyond, and the bewildered gymnast found he had worsted god! 60 like her the saints retire, in their chapeaux of fire, martial as she! like her the evenings steal purple and cochineal after the day! "departed"    both    they say! i.e. gathered away, not found, argues the aster still    reasons the daffodil profound! 61 papa above! regard a mouse o'erpowered by the cat! reserve within thy kingdom a "mansion" for the rat! snug in seraphic cupboards to nibble all the day while unsuspecting cycles wheel solemnly away! 62 "sown in dishonor"! ah! indeed! may this "dishonor" be? if i were half so fine myself i'd notice nobody! "sown in corruption"! not so fast! apostle is askew! corinthians 1. 15. narrates a circumstance or two! 63 if pain for peace prepares lo, what "augustan" years our feet await! if springs from winter rise, can the anemones be reckoned up? if night stands fast    then noon to gird us for the sun, what gaze! when from a thousand skies on our developed eyes noons blaze! 64 some rainbow    coming from the fair! some vision of the world cashmere    i confidently see! or else a peacock's purple train feather by feather    on the plain fritters itself away! the dreamy butterflies bestir! lethargic pools resume the whir of last year's sundered tune! from some old fortress on the sun baronial bees    march    one by one    in murmuring platoon! the robins stand as thick today as flakes of snow stood yesterday    on fence    and roof    and twig! the orchis binds her feather on for her old lover   don the sun! revisiting the bog! without commander! countless! still! the regiments of wood and hill in bright detachment stand! behold! whose multitudes are these? the children of whose turbaned seas    or what circassian land? 65 i can't tell you    but you feel it    nor can you tell me    saints, with ravished slate and pencil solve our april day! sweeter than a vanished frolic from a vanished green! swifter than the hoofs of horsemen round a ledge of dream! modest, let us walk among it with our faces veiled    as they say polite archangels do in meeting god! not for me    to prate about it! not for you    to say to some fashionable lady "charming april day"! rather    heaven's "peter parley"! by which children slow to sublimer recitation are prepared to go! 66 so from the mould scarlet and gold many a bulb will rise    hidden away, cunningly, from sagacious eyes. so from cocoon many a worm leap so highland gay, peasants like me, peasants like thee gaze perplexedly! 67 success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed. to comprehend a nectar requires sorest need. not one of all the purple host who took the flag today can tell the definition so clear of victory as he defeated    dying    on whose forbidden ear the distant strains of triumph burst agonized and clear! 68 ambition cannot find him. affection doesn't know how many leagues of nowhere lie between them now. yesterday, undistinguished! eminent today for our mutual hone, immortality! 69 low at my problem bending, another problem comes    larger than mine    serener    involving statelier sums. i check my busy pencil, my figures file away. wherefore, my baffled fingers they perplexity? 70 "arcturus" is his other name    i'd rather call him "star." it's very mean of science to go and interfere! i slew a worm the other day    a "savant" passing by murmured "resurgam"    "centipede"! "oh lord    how frail are we"! i pull a flower from the woods    a monster with a glass computes the stamens in a breath    and has her in a "class"! whereas i took the butterfly aforetime in my hat    he sits erect in "cabinets"    the clover bells forgot. what once was "heaven" is "zenith" now    where i proposed to go when time's brief masquerade was done is mapped and charted too. what if the poles should frisk about and stand upon their heads! i hope i'm ready for "the worst"    whatever prank betides! perhaps the "kingdom of heaven's" changed    i hope the "children" there won't be "new fashioned" when i come    and laugh at me    and stare    i hope the father in the skies will lift his little girl    old fashioned    naught    everything    over the stile of "pearl." 71 a throe upon the features    a hurry in the breath    an ecstasy of parting denominated "death"    an anguish at the mention which when to patience grown, i've known permission given to rejoin its own. 72 glowing is her bonnet, glowing is her cheek, glowing is her kirtle, yet she cannot speak. better as the daisy from the summer hill vanish unrecorded save by tearful rill    save by loving sunrise looking for her face. save by feet unnumbered pausing at the place. 73 who never lost, are unprepared a coronet to find! who never thirsted flagons, and cooling tamarind! who never climbed the weary league    can such a foot explore the purple territories on pizarro's shore? how many legions overcome    the emperor will say? how many colors taken on revolution day? how many bullets bearest? hast thou the royal scar? angels! write "promoted" on this soldier's brow! 74 a lady red    amid the hill her annual secret keeps! a lady white, within the field in placid lily sleeps! the tidy breezes, with their brooms    sweep vale    and hill    and tree! prithee, my pretty housewives! who may expected be? the neighbors do not yet suspect! the woods exchange a smile! orchard, and buttercup, and bird    in such a little while! and yet, how still the landscape stands! how nonchalant the hedge! as if the "resurrection" were nothing very strange! 75 she died at play, gambolled away her lease of spotted hours, then sank as gaily as a turn upon a couch of flowers. her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill yesterday, and today, her vestments as the silver fleece    her countenance as spray. 76 exultation is the going of an inland soul to sea, past the houses    past the headlands    into deep eternity    bred as we, among the mountains, can the sailor understand the divine intoxication of the first league out from land? 77 i never hear the word "escape" without a quicker blood, a sudden expectation a flying attitude! i never hear of prisons broad by soldiers battered down, but i tug childish at my bars only to fail again! 78 a poor    torn heart    a tattered heart    that sat it down to rest    nor noticed that the ebbing day flowed silver to the west    nor noticed night did soft descend    nor constellation burn    intent upon the vision of latitudes unknown. the angels    happening that way this dusty heart espied    tenderly took it up from toil and carried it to god    there    sandals for the barefoot    there    gathered from the gales    do the blue havens by the hand lead the wandering sails. 79 going to heaven! i don't know when    pray do not ask me how! indeed i'm too astonished to think of answering you! going to heaven! how dim it sounds! and yet it will be done as sure as flocks go home at night unto the shepherd's arm! perhaps you're going too! who knows? if you should get there first save just a little space for me close to the two i lost    the smallest "robe" will fit me and just a bit of "crown"    for you know we do not mind our dress when we are going home    i'm glad i don't believe it for it would stop my breath    and i'd like to look a little more at such a curious earth! i'm glad they did believe it whom i have never found since the might autumn afternoon i left them in the ground. 80 our lives are swiss    so still    so cool    till some odd afternoon the alps neglect their curtains and we look farther on! italy stands the other side! while like a guard between    the solemn alps    the siren alps forever intervene! 81 we should not mind so small a flower    except it quiet bring our little garden that we lost back to the lawn again. so spicy her carnations nod    so drunken, reel her bees    so silver steal a hundred flutes from out a hundred trees    that whoso sees this little flower by faith may clear behold the bobolinks around the throne and dandelions gold. 82 whose cheek is this? what rosy face has lost a blush today? i found her    "pleiad"    in the woods and bore her safe away. robins, in the tradition did cover such with leaves, but which the cheek    and which the pall my scrutiny deceives. 83 heart, not so heavy as mine wending late home    as it passed my window whistled itself a tune    a careless snatch    a ballad    a ditty of the street    yet to my irritated ear an anodyne so sweet    it was as if a bobolink sauntering this way carolled, and paused, and carolled    then bubbled slow away! it was as if a chirping brook upon a dusty way    set bleeding feet to minuets without the knowing why! tomorrow, night will come again    perhaps, weary and sore    ah bugle! by my window i pray you pass once more. 84 her breast is fit for pearls, but i was not a "diver"    her brow is fit for thrones but i have not a crest. her heart is fit for home    i    a sparrow    build there sweet of twigs and twine my perennial nest. 85 "they have not chosen me," he said, "but i have chosen them!" brave    broken hearted statement    uttered in bethlehem! i could not have told it, but since jesus dared    sovereign! know a daisy they dishonor shared! 86 south winds jostle them    bumblebees come    hover    hesitate    drink, and are gone    butterflies pause on their passage cashmere    i    softly plucking, present them here! 87 a darting fear    a pomp    a tear    a waking on a morn to find that what one waked for, inhales the different dawn. 88 as by the dead we love to sit, become so wondrous dear    as for the lost we grapple tho' all the rest are here    in broken mathematics we estimate our prize vast    in its fading ration to our penurious eyes! 89 some things that fly there be    birds    hours    the bumblebee    of these no elegy. some things that stay there be    grief    hills    eternity    nor this behooveth me. there are that resting, rise. can i expound the skies? how still the riddle lies! 90 within my reach! i could have touched! i might have chanced that way! soft sauntered thro' the village    sauntered as soft away! so unsuspected violets within the meadows go    too late for striving fingers that passed, an hour ago! 91 so bashful when i spied her! so pretty    so ashamed! so hidden in her leaflets lest anybody find    so breathless till i passed here    so helpless when i turned and bore her struggling, blushing, her simple haunts beyond! for whom i robbed the dingle    for whom i betrayed the dell    many, will doubtless ask me, but i shall never tell! 92 my friend must be a bird    because it flies! mortal, my friend must be, because it dies! barbs has it, like a bee! ah, curious friend! thou puzzlest me! 93 went up a year this evening! i recollect it well! amid no bells nor bravoes the bystanders will tell! cheerful    as to the village    tranquil    as to repose    chastened    as to the chapel this humble tourist rose! did not talk of returning! alluded to no time when, were the gales propitious    we might look for him! was grateful for the roses in life's diverse bouquet    talked softly of new species to pick another day; beguiling thus the wonder the wondrous nearer drew    hands bustled at the moorings    the crown respectful grew    ascended from our vision to countenances new! a difference    a daisy    is all the rest i knew! 94 angels, in the early morning may be seen the dews among, stooping    plucking    smiling    flying    do the buds to them belong? angels, when the sun is hottest may be seen the sands among, stooping    plucking    sighing    flying    parched the flowers they bear along. 95 my nosegays are for captives    dim    expectant eyes, fingers denied the plucking, patient till paradise. to such, if they should whisper of morning and the moor, they bear no other errand, and i, no other prayer. 96 sexton! my master's sleeping here. pray lead me to his bed! i came to build the bird's nest, and sow the early seed    that when the snow creeps slowly from off his chamber door    daisies point the way there    and the troubadour. 97 the rainbow never tells me that gust and storm are by, yet is she more convincing than philosophy. my flowers turn from forums    yet eloquent declare what cato couldn't prove me except the birds were here! 98 one dignity delays for all    one mitred afternoon    none can avoid this purple    none evade this crown! coach, it insures, and footmen    chamber, and state, and throng    bells, also, in the village as we ride grand along! what dignified attendants! what service when we pause! how loyally at parting their hundred hats they raise! her pomp surpassing ermine when simple you, and i, present our meek escutheon and claim the rank to die! 99 new feet within my garden go    new fingers stir the sod    a troubadour upon the elm betrays the solitude. new children play upon the green    new weary sleep below    and still the pensive spring returns    and still the punctual snow! 100 a science    so the savants say, "comparative anatomy"    by which a single bone    is made a secret to unfold of some rare tenant of the mold, else perished in the stone    so to the eye prospective led, this meekest flower of the mead upon a winter's day, stands representative in gold of rose and lily, manifold, and countless butterfly! 101 will there really be a "morning"? is there such a thing as "day"? could i see it from the mountains if i were as tall as they? has it feet like water lilies? has it feathers like a bird? is it brought from famous countries of which i have never heard? oh some scholar! oh some sailor! oh some wise men from the skies! please to tell a little pilgrim where the place called "morning" lies! 102 great caesar! condescend the daisy, to receive, gathered by cato's daughter, with your majestic leave! 103 i have a king, who does not speak    so    wondering    thro' the hours meek i trudge the day away    half glad when it is night, and sleep, if, haply, thro' a dream, to peep in parlors, shut by day. and if i do    when morning comes    it is as if a hundred drums did round my pillow roll, and shouts fill all my childish sky, and bells keep saying "victory" from steeples in my soul! and if i don't    the little bird within the orchard, is not heard, and i omit to pray "father, thy will be done" today for my will goes the other way, and it were perjury! 104 where i have lost, i softer tread    i sow sweet flower from garden bed    i pause above that vanished head and mourn. whom i have lost, i pious guard from accent harsh, or ruthless word    feeling as if their pillow heard, though stone! when i have lost, you'll know by this    a bonnet black    a dusk surplice    a little tremor in my voice like this! why, i have lost, the people know who dressed in flocks of purest snow went home a century ago next bliss! 105 to hang our head    ostensibly    and subsequent, to find that such was not the posture of our immortal mind    affords the sly presumption that in so dense a fuzz    you    too    take cobweb attitudes upon a plane of gauze! 106 the daisy follows soft the sun    and when his golden walk is done    sits shyly at his feet    he    waking    finds the flower there    wherefore    marauder    art thou here? because, sir, love is sweet! we are the flower    thou the sun! forgive us, if as days decline    we nearer steal to thee! enamored of the parting west    the peace    the flight    the amethyst    night's possibility! 107 'twas such a little    little boat that toddled down the bay! 'twas such a gallant    gallant sea that beckoned it away! 'twas such a greedy, greedy wave that licked it from the coast    nor ever guessed the stately sails my little craft was lost! 108 surgeons must be very careful when they take the knife! underneath their fine incisions stirs the culprit    life! 109 by a flower    by a letter    by a nimble love    if i weld the rivet faster    final fast    above    never mind my breathless anvil! never mind repose! never mind the sooty faces tugging at the forge! 110 artists wrestled here! lo, a tint cashmere! lo, a rose! student of the year! for the easel here say repose! 111 the bee is not afraid of me. i know the butterfly. the pretty people in the woods receive me cordially    the brooks laugh louder when i come    the breezes madder play; wherefore mine eye thy silver mists, wherefore, oh summer's day? 112 where bells no more affright the morn    where scrabble never comes    where very nimble gentlemen are forced to keep their rooms    where tired children placid sleep thro' centuries of noon this place is bliss    this town is heaven    please, pater, pretty soon! "oh could we climb where moses stood, and view the landscape o'er" not father's bells    nor factories, could scare us any more! 113 our share of night to bear    our share of morning    our blank in bliss to fill our blank in scorning    here a star, and there a star, some lose their way! here a mist, and there a mist, afterwards    day! 114 good night, because we must, how intricate the dust! i would go, to know! oh incognito! saucy, saucy seraph to elude me so! father! they won't tell me, won't you tell them to? 115 what inn is this where for the night peculiar traveller comes? who is the landlord? where the maids? behold, what curious rooms! no ruddy fires on the hearth    no brimming tankards flow    necromancer! landlord! who are these below? 116 i had some things that i called mine    and god, that he called his, till, recently a rival claim disturbed these amities. the property, my garden, which having sown with care, he claims the pretty acre, and sends a bailiff there. the station of the parties forbids publicity, but justice is sublimer than arms, or pedigree. i'll institute an "action"    i'll vindicate the law    jove! choose your counsel    i retain "shaw"! 117 in rags mysterious as these the shining courtiers go    veiling the purple, and the plumes    veiling the ermine so. smiling, as they request an alms    at some imposing door! smiling when we walk barefoot upon their golden floor! 118 my friend attacks my friend! oh battle picturesque! then i turn soldier too, and he turns satirist! how martial is this place! had i a mighty gun i think i'd shoot the human race and then to glory run! 119 talk with prudence to a beggar of "potose," and the mines! reverently, to the hungry of your viands, and your wines! cautious, hint to any captive you have passed enfranchised feet! anecdotes of air in dungeons have sometimes proved deadly sweet! 120 if this is "fading" oh let me immediately "fade"! if this is "dying" bury me, in such a shroud of red! if this is "sleep," on such a night how proud to shut the eye! good evening, gentle fellow men! peacock presumes to die! 121 as watchers hang upon the east, as beggars revel at a feast by savory fancy spread    as brooks in deserts babble sweet on ear too far for the delight, heaven beguiles the tired. as that same watcher, when the east opens the lid of amethyst and lets the morning go    that beggar, when an honored guest, those thirsty lips to flagons pressed, heaven to us, if true. 122 a something in a summer's day as slow her flambeaux burn away which solemnizes me. a something in a summer's noon    a depth    an azure    a perfume    transcending ecstasy. and still within a summer's night a something so transporting bright i clap my hands to see    then veil my too inspecting face lets such a subtle    shimmering grace flutter too far for me    the wizard fingers never rest    the purple brook within the breast still chafes it narrow bed    still rears the east her amber flag    guides still the sun along the crag his caravan of red    so looking on    the night    the morn conclude the wonder gay    and i meet, coming thro' the dews another summer's day! 123 many cross the rhine in this cup of mine. sip old frankfort air from my brown cigar. 124 in lands i never saw    they say immortal alps look down    whose bonnets touch the firmament    whose sandals touch the town    meek at whose everlasting feet a myriad daisy play    which, sir, are you and which am i upon an august day? 125 for each ecstatic instant we must an anguish pay in keen and quivering ration to the ecstasy. for each beloved hour sharp pittances of years    bitter contested farthings    and coffers heaped with tears! 126 to fight aloud, is very brave    but gallanter, i know who charge within the bosom the cavalry of woe    who win, and nations do not see    who fall    and none observe    whose dying eyes, no country regards with patriot love    we trust, in plumed procession for such, the angels go    rank after rank, with even feet    and uniforms of snow. 127 "houses"    so the wise men tell me    "mansions"! mansions must be warm! mansions cannot let the tears in, mansions must exclude the storm! "many mansions," by "his father," i don't know him; snugly built! could the children find the way there    some, would even trudge tonight! 128 bring me the sunset in a cup, reckon the morning's flagons up and say how many dew, tell me how far the morning leaps    tell me what time the weaver sleeps who spun the breadth of blue! write me how many notes there be in the new robin's ecstasy among astonished boughs    how many trips the tortoise makes    how many cups the bee partakes, the debauchee of dews! also, who laid the rainbow's piers, also, who leads the docile spheres by withes of supple blue? whose fingers string the stalactite    who counts the wampum of the night to see that none is due? who built this little alban house and shut the windows down so close my spirit cannot see? who'll let me out some gala day with implements to fly away, passing pomposity? 129 cocoon above! cocoon below! stealthy cocoon, why hide you so what all the world suspect? an hour, and gay on every tree your secret, perched in ecstasy defies imprisonment! an hour in chrysalis to pass, then gay above receding grass a butterfly to go! a moment to interrogate, then wiser than a "surrogate," the universe to know! 130 these are the days when birds come back    a very few    a bird or two    to take a backward look. these are the days when skies resume the old    old sophistries of june    a blue and gold mistake. oh fraud that cannot cheat the bee    almost thy plausibility induces my belief. till ranks of seeds their witness bear    and softly thro' the altered air hurries a timid leaf. oh sacrament of summer days, oh last communion in the haze    permit a child to join. thy sacred emblems to partake    they consecrated bread to take and thine immortal wine! 131 besides the autumn poets sing a few prosaic days a little this side of the snow and that side of the haze    a few incisive mornings    a few ascetic eves    gone    mr. bryant's "golden rod"    and mr. thomson's "sheaves." still, is the bustle in the brook    sealed are the spicy valves    mesmeric fingers softly touch the eyes of many elves    perhaps a squirrel may remain    my sentiments to share    grant me, oh lord, a sunny mind    thy windy will to bear! 132 i bring an unaccustomed wine to lips long parching next to mine, and summon them to drink; crackling with fever, they essay, i turn my brimming eyes away, and come next hour to look. the hands still hug the tardy glass    the lips i would have cooled, alas    are so superfluous cold    i would as soon attempt to warm the bosoms where the frost has lain ages beneath the mould    some other thirsty there may be to whom this would have pointed me had it remained to speak    and so i always bear the cup if, haply, mine may be the drop some pilgrim thirst to slake    if, haply, any say to me "unto the little, unto me," when i at last awake. 133 as children bid the guest "good night" and then reluctant turn    my flowers raise their pretty lips    then put their nightgowns on. as children caper when they wake merry that it is morn    my flowers from a hundred cribs will peep, and prance again. 134 perhaps you'd like to buy a flower, but i could never sell    if you would like to borrow, until the daffodil unties her yellow bonnet beneath the village door, until the bees, from clover rows their hock, and sherry, draw, why, i will lend until just then, but not an hour more! 135 water, is taught by thirst. land    by the oceans passed. transport    by throe    peace    by its battles told    love, by memorial mold    birds, by the snow. 136 have you got a brook in your little heart, where bashful flowers blow, and blushing birds go down to drink, and shadows tremble so    and nobody knows, so still it flows, that any brook is there, and yet your little draught of life is daily drunken there    why, look out for the little brook in march, when the rivers overflow, and the snows come hurrying from the fills, and the bridges often go    and later, in august it may be    when the meadows parching lie, beware, lest this little brook of life, some burning noon go dry! 137 flowers    well    if anybody can the ecstasy define    half a transport    half a trouble    with which flowers humble men: anybody find the fountain from which floods so contra flow    i will give him all the daisies which upon the hillside blow. too much pathos in their faces for a simple breast like mine    butterflies from st. domingo cruising round the purple line    have a system of aesthetics    far superior to mine. 138 pigmy seraphs    gone astray    velvet people from vevay    balles from some lost summer day    bees exclusive coterie    paris could not lay the fold belted down with emerald    venice could not show a check of a tint so lustrous meek    never such an ambuscade as of briar and leaf displayed for my little damask maid    i had rather wear her grace than an earl's distinguished face    i had rather dwell like her than be "duke of exeter"    royalty enough for me to subdue the bumblebee. 139 soul, wilt thou toss again? by just such a hazard hundreds have lost indeed    but tens have won an all    angel's breathless ballot lingers to record thee    imps in eager caucus raffle for my soul! 140 an altered look about the hills    a tyrian light the village fills    a wider sunrise in the morn    a deeper twilight on the lawn    a print of a vermillion foot    a purple finger on the slope    a flippant fly upon the pane    a spider at his trade again    an added strut in chanticleer    a flower expected everywhere    an axe shrill singing in the woods    fern odors on untravelled roads    all this and more i cannot tell    a furtive look you know as well    and nicodemus' mystery receives its annual reply! 141 some, too fragile for winter winds the thoughtful grave encloses    tenderly tucking them in from frost before their feet are cold. never the treasures in her nest the cautious grave exposes, building where schoolboy dare not look, and sportsman is not bold. this covert have all the children early aged, and often cold, sparrow, unnoticed by the father    lambs for whom time had not a fold. 142 whose are the little beds, i asked which in the valleys lie? some shook their heads, and others smiled    and no one made reply. perhaps they did not hear, i said, i will inquire again    whose are the beds    the tiny beds so thick upon the plain? 'tis daisy, in the shortest    a little further on    nearest the door    to wake the ist    little leontoden. 'tis iris, sir, and aster    anemone, and bell    bartsia, in the blanket red    and chubby daffodil. meanwhile, at many cradles her busy foot she plied    humming the quaintest lullaby that ever rocked a child. hush! epigea wakens! the crocus stirs her lids    rhodora's cheek is crimson, she's dreaming of the woods! then turning from them reverent    their bedtime 'tis, she said    the bumble bees will wake them when april woods are red. 143 for every bird a nest    wherefore in timid quest some little wren goes seeking round    wherefore when boughs are free    households in every tree    pilgrim be found? perhaps a home too high    ah aristocracy! the little wren desires    perhaps of twig so fine    of twine e'en superfine, her pride aspires    the lark is not ashamed to build upon the ground her modest house    yet who of all the throng dancing around the sun does so rejoice? 144 she bore it till the simple veins traced azure on her hand    til pleading, round her quiet eyes the purple crayons stand. till daffodils had come and gone i cannot tell the sum, and then she ceased to bear it    and with the saints sat down. no more her patient figure at twilight soft to meet    no more her timid bonnet upon the village street    but crowns instead, and courtiers    and in the midst so fair, whose but her shy    immortal face of whom we're whispering here? 145 this heart that broke so long    these feet that never flagged    this faith that watched for star in vain, give gently to the dead    hound cannot overtake the hare that fluttered panting, here    nor any schoolboy rob the nest tenderness builded there. 146 on such a night, or such a night, would anybody care if such a little figure slipped quiet from its chair    so quiet    oh how quiet, that nobody might know but that the little figure rocked softer    to and fro    on such a dawn, or such a dawn    would anybody sigh that such a little figure too sound asleep did lie for chanticleer to wake it    or stirring house below    or giddy bird in orchard    or early task to do? there was a little figure plump for every little knoll    busy needles, and spools of thread    and trudging feet from school    playmates, and holidays, and nuts    and visions vast and small    strange that the feet so precious charged should reach so small a goal! 147 bless god, he went as soldiers, his musket on his breast    grant god, he charge the bravest of all the martial blest! please god, might i behold him in epauletted white    i should not fear the foe then    i should not fear the fight! 148 all overgrown by cunning moss, all interspersed with weed, the little cage of "currer bell" in quiet "haworth" laid. gathered from many wanderings    gethsemane can tell thro' what transporting anguish she reached the asphodel! soft falls the sounds of eden upon her puzzled ear    oh what an afternoon for heaven, when "bronte" entered there! 149 she went as quiet as the dew from an accustomed flower. not like the dew, did she return at the accustomed hour! she dropt as softly as a star from out my summer's eve    less skillful than le verriere it's sorer to believe! 150 she died    this was the way she died. and when her breath was done took up her simple wardrobe and started for the sun. her little figure at the gate the angels must have spied, since i could never find her upon the mortal side. 151 mute thy coronation    meek my vive le roi, fold a tiny courtier in thine ermine, sir, there to rest revering till the pageant by, i can murmur broken, master, it was i    152 the sun kept stooping    stooping    low! the hills to meet him rose! on his side, what transaction! on their side, what repose! deeper and deeper grew the stain upon the window pane    thicker and thicker stood the feet until the tyrian was crowded dense with armies    so gay, so brigadier    that i felt martial stirrings who once the cockade wore    charged from my chimney corner    but nobody was there! 153 dust is the only secret    death, the only one you cannot find out all about in his "native town." nobody know "his father"    never was a boy    hadn't any playmates, or "early history"    industrious! laconic! punctual! sedate! bold as a brigand! stiller than a fleet! builds, like a bird, too! christ robs the nest    robin after robin smuggled to rest! 154 except to heaven, she is nought. except for angels    lone. except to some wide wandering bee a flower superfluous blown. except for winds    provincial. except by butterflies unnoticed as a single dew that on the acre lies. the smallest housewife in the grass, yet take her from the lawn and somebody has lost the face that made existence    home! 155 the murmur of a bee a witchcraft    yieldeth me    if any ask me why    'twere easier to die    than tell    the red upon the hill taketh away my will    if anybody sneer    take care    for god is here    that's all. the breaking of the day addeth to my degree    if any ask me how    artist    who drew me so    must tell! 156 you love me    you are sure    i shall not fear mistake    i shall not cheated wake    some grinning morn    to find the sunrise left    and orchards    unbereft    and dollie    gone! i need not start    you're sure    that night will never be    when frightened    home to thee i run    to find the windows dark    and no more dollie    mark    quite none? be sure you're sure    you know    i'll bear it better now    if you'll just tell me so    than when    a little dull balm grown    over this pain of mine    you sting    again! 157 musicians wrestle everywhere    all day    among the crowded air i hear the silver strife    and    walking    long before the morn    such transport breaks upon the town i think it that "new life"! if is not bird    it has no nest    nor "band"    in brass and scarlet    drest    nor tamborin    nor man    it is not hymn from pulpit read    the "morning stars" the treble led on time's first afternoon! some    say    it is "the spheres"    at play! some say that bright majority of vanished dames    and men! some    think it service in the place where we    with late    celestial face    please god    shall ascertain! 158 dying! dying in the night! won't somebody bring the light so i can see which way to go into the everlasting snow? and "jesus"! where is jesus gone? they said that jesus    always came    perhaps he doesn't know the house    this way, jesus, let him pass! somebody run to the great gate and see if dollie's coming! wait! i hear her feet upon the stair! death won't hurt    now dollie's here! 159 a little bread    a crust    a crumb    a little trust    a demijohn    can keep the soul alive    not portly, mind! but breathing    warm    conscious    as old napoleon, the night before the crown! a modest lot    a fame petite    a brief campaign of sting and sweet is plenty! is enough! a sailor's business is the shore! a soldier's    balls! who asketh more, must seek the neighboring life! 160 just lost, when i was saved! just felt the world go by! just girt me for the onset with eternity, when breath blew back, and on the other side i heard recede the disappointed tide! therefore, as one returned, i feel odd secrets of the line to tell! some sailor, skirting foreign shores    some pale reporter, from the awful doors before the seal! next time, to stay! next time, the things to see by ear unheard, unscrutinized by eye    next time, to tarry, while the ages steal    slow tramp the centuries, and the cycles wheel! 161 a feather from the whippoorwill that everlasting    sings! whose galleries    are sunrise    whose opera    the springs    whose emerald nest the ages spin of mellow    murmuring thread    whose beryl egg, what schoolboys hunt in "recess"    overhead! 162 my river runs to thee    blue sea! wilt welcome me? my river wait reply    oh sea    look graciously    i'll fetch thee brooks from spotted nooks    say    sea    take me! 163 tho' my destiny be fustian    hers be damask fine    tho' she wear a silver apron    i, a less divine    still, my little gypsy being i would far prefer, still, my little sunburnt bosom to her rosier, for, when frosts, their punctual fingers on her forehead lay, you and i, and dr. holland, bloom eternally! roses of a steadfast summer in a steadfast land, where no autumn lifts her pencil    and no reapers stand! 164 mama never forgets her birds, though in another tree    she looks down just as often and just as tenderly as when her little mortal nest with cunning care she wove    if either of her "sparrows fall," she "notices," above. 165 a wounded deer    leaps highest    i've heard the hunter tell    'tis but the ecstasy of death    and then the brake is still! the smitten rock that gushes! the trampled steel that springs! a cheek is always redder just where the hectic stings! mirth is the mail of anguish in which it cautious arm, lest anybody spy the blood and "you're hurt" exclaim! 166 i met a king this afternoon! he had not on a crown indeed, a little palmleaf hat was all, and he was barefoot, i'm afraid! but sure i am he ermine wore beneath his faded jacket's blue    and sure i am, the crest he bore within that jacket's pocket too! for 'twas too stately for an earl    a marquis would not go so grand! 'twas possibly a czar petite    a pope, or something of that kind! if i must tell you, of a horse my freckled monarch held the rein    doubtless an estimable beast, but not at all disposed to run! and such a wagon! while i live dare i presume to see another such a vehicle as then transported me! two other ragged princes his royal state partook! doubtless the first excursion these sovereigns ever took! i question if the royal coach round which the footmen wait has the significance, on high, of this barefoot estate! 167 to learn the transport by the pain as blind men learn the sun! to die of thirst    suspecting that brooks in meadows run! to stay the homesick    homesick feet upon a foreign shore    haunted by native lands, the while    and blue    beloved air! this is the sovereign anguish! this    the signal woe! these are the patient "laureates" whose voices    trained    below    ascend in ceaseless carol    inaudible, indeed, to us    the duller scholars of the mysterious bard! 168 if the foolish, call them "flowers"    need the wiser, tell? if the savants "classify" them it is just as well! those who read the "revelations" must not criticize those who read the same edition    with beclouded eyes! could we stand with that old "moses"    "canaan" denied    scan like him, the stately landscape on the other side    doubtless, we should deem superfluous many sciences, not pursued by learned angels in scholastic skies! low amid that glad belles lettres grant that we may stand, stars, amid profound galaxies    at that grand "right hand"! 169 in ebon box, when years have flown to reverently peer, wiping away the velvet dust summers have sprinkled there! to hold a letter to the light    grown tawny now, with time    to con the faded syllables that quickened us like wine! perhaps a flower's shrivelled check among its stores to find    plucked far away, some morning    by gallant    mouldering hand! a curl, perhaps, from foreheads our constancy forgot    perhaps, an antique trinket    in vanished fashions set! and then to lay them quiet back    and go about its care    as if the little ebon box were none of our affair! 170 portraits are to daily faces as an evening west, to a fine, pedantic sunshine    in a satin vest! 171 wait till the majesty of death invests so mean a brow! almost a powdered footman might dare to touch it now! wait till in everlasting robes that democrat is dressed, then prate about "preferment"    and "station," and the rest! around this quiet courtier obsequious angels wait! full royal is his retinue! full purple is his state! a lord, might dare to lift the hat to such a modest clay since that my lord, "the lord of lords" receives unblushingly! 172 'tis so much joy! 'tis so much joy! if i should fail, what poverty! and yet, as poor as i, have ventured all upon a throw! have gained! yes! hesitated so    this side the victory! life is but life! and death, but death! bliss is, but bliss, and breath but breath! and if indeed i fail, at least, to know the worst, is sweet! defeat means nothing but defeat, no drearier, can befall! and if i gain! oh gun at sea! oh bells, that in the steeples be! at first, repeat it slow! for heaven is a different thing, conjectured, and waked sudden in    and might extinguish me! 173 a fuzzy fellow, without feet, yet doth exceeding run! of velvet, is his countenance, and his complexion, dun! sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! sometime, upon a bough, from which he doth descend in plush upon the passer by! all this in summer. but when winds alarm the forest folk, he taketh damask residence    and struts in sewing silk! then, finer than a lady, emerges in the spring! a feather on each shoulder! you'd scarce recognize him! by men, yclept caterpillar! by me! but who am i, to tell the pretty secret of the butterfly! 174 at last, to be identified! at last, the lamps upon thy side the rest of life to see! past midnight! past the morning star! past sunrise! ah, what leagues there were between our feet, and day! 175 i have never seen "volcanoes"    but, when travellers tell how those old    phlegmatic mountains usually so still    bear within    appalling ordnance, fire, and smoke, and gun, taking villages for breakfast, and appalling men    if the stillness is volcanic in the human face when upon a pain titanic features keep their place    if at length the smouldering anguish will not overcome    and the palpitating vineyard in the dust, be thrown? if some loving antiquary, on resumption morn, will not cry with joy "pompeii"! to the hills return! 176 i'm the little "heart's ease"! i don't care for pouting skies! if the butterfly delay can i, therefore, stay away? if the coward bumble bee in his chimney corner stay, i, must resoluter be! who'll apologize for me? dear, old fashioned, little flower! eden is old fashioned, too! birds are antiquated fellows! heaven does not change her blue. nor will i, the little heart's ease    ever be induced to do! 177 ah, necromancy sweet! ah, wizard erudite! teach me the skill, that i instil the pain surgeons assuage in vain, nor herb of all the plain can heal! 178 i cautious, scanned my little life    i winnowed what would fade from what would last till heads like mine should be a dreaming laid. i put the latter in a barn    the former, blew away. i went one winter morning and lo   my priceless hay was not upon the "scaffold"    was not upon the "beam"    and from a thriving farmer    a cynic, i became. whether a thief did it    whether it was the wind    whether deity's guiltless    my business is, to find! so i begin to ransack! how is it hearts, with thee? art thou within the little barn love provided thee? 179 if i could bribe them by a rose i'd bring them every flower that grows from amherst to cashmere! i would not stop for night, or storm    or frost, or death, or anyone    my business were so dear! if they would linger for a bird my tambourin were soonest heard among the april woods! unwearied, all the summer long, only to break in wilder song when winter shook the boughs! what if they hear me! who shall say that such an importunity may not at last avail? that, weary of this beggar's face    they may not finally say, yes    to drive her from the hall? 180 as if some little arctic flower upon the polar hem    went wandering down the latitudes until it puzzled came to continents of summer    to firmaments of sun    to strange, bright crowds of flowers    and birds, of foreign tongue! i say, as if this little flower to eden, wandered in    what then? why nothing, only, your inference therefrom! 181 i lost a world   the other day! has anybody found? you'll know it by the row of stars around its forehead bound. a rich man    might not notice it    yet    to my frugal eye, of more esteem than ducats    oh find it    sir    for me! 182 if i shouldn't be alive when the robins come, give the one in red cravat, a memorial crumb. if i couldn't thank you, being fast asleep, you will know i'm trying why my granite lip! 183 i've heard an organ talk, sometimes in a cathedral aisle, and understood no word it said    yet held my breath, the while    and risen up    and gone away, a more berdardine girl    yet    know not what was done to me in that old chapel aisle. 184 a transport one cannot contain may yet a transport be    though god forbid it lift the lid    unto its ecstasy! a diagram    of rapture! a sixpence at a show    with holy ghosts in cages! the universe would go! 185 "faith" is a fine invention when gentlemen can see    but microscopes are prudent in an emergency. 186 what shall i do    it whimpers so    this little hound within the heart all day and night with bark and start    and yet, it will not go    would you untie it, were you me    would it stop whining    if to thee    i sent it    even now? it should not tease you    by your chair    or, on the mat    or if it dare    to climb your dizzy knee    or    sometimes at your side to run    when you were willing    shall it come? tell carlo    he'll tell me! 187 how many times these low feet staggered    only the soldered mouth can tell    try    can you stir the awful rivet    try    can you lift the hasps of steel! stroke the cool forehead    hot so often    lift    if you care    the listless hair    handle the adamantine fingers never a thimble    more    shall wear    buzz the dull flies    on the chamber window    brave    shines the sun through the freckled pane    fearless    the cobweb swings from the ceiling    indolent housewife    in daisies    lain! 188 make me a picture of the sun    so i can hang it in my room    and make believe i'm getting warm when others call it "day"! draw me a robin    on a stem    so i am hearing him, i'll dream, and when the orchards stop their tune    put my pretense    away    say if it's really    warm at noon    whether it's buttercups    that "skim"    or butterflies    that "bloom"? then    skip    the frost    upon the lea    and skip the russet    on the tree    let's play those    never come! 189 it's such a little thing to weep    so short a thing to sigh    and yet    by trades    the size of these we men and women die! 190 he was weak, and i was strong    then    so he let me lead him in    i was weak, and he was strong then    so i let him lead me    home. 'twasn't far    the door was near    'twasn't dark    for he went    too    'twasn't loud, for he said nought    that was all i cared to know. day knocked    and we must part    neither    was strongest    now    he strove    and i strove    too    we didn't do it    tho'! 191 the skies can't keep their secret! they tell it to the hills    the hills just tell the orchards    and they    the daffodils! a bird    by chance    that goes that way    soft overhears the whole    if i should bribe the little bird    who knows but she would tell? i think i won't    however    it's finer    not to know    if summer were an axiom    what sorcery had snow? so keep your secret    father! i would not    if i could, know what the sapphire fellows, do, in your new fashioned world! 192 poor little heart! did they forget thee? then dinna care! then dinna care! proud little heart! did they forsake thee? be debonnaire! be debonnaire! frail little heart! i would not break thee    could'st credit me? could'st credit me? gay little heart    like morning glory! wind and sun    wilt thee array! 193 i shall know why    when time is over    and i have ceased to wonder why    christ will explain each separate anguish in the fair schoolroom of the sky    he will tell me what "peter" promised    and i    for wonder at his woe    i shall forget the drop of anguish that scalds me now    that scalds me now! 194 on this long storm the rainbow rose    on this late morn    the sun    the clouds    like listless elephants    horizons    straggled down    the birds rose smiling, in their nests    the gales    indeed    were done    alas, how heedless were the eyes    on whom the summer shone! the quiet nonchalance of death    no daybreak    can bestir    the slow    archangel's syllables must awaken her! 195 for this    accepted breath    through it    compete with death    the fellow cannot touch this crown    by it    my title take    ah, what a royal sake to my necessity    stooped down! no wilderness    can be where this attendeth me    no desert noon    no fear of frost to come haunt the perennial bloom    but certain june! get gabriel    to tell    the royal syllable    get saints    with new    unsteady tongue    to say what trance below most like their glory show    fittest the crown! 196 we don't cry    tim and i, we are far too grand    but we bolt the door tight to prevent a friend    then we hide our brave face deep in our hand    not to cry    tim and i    we are far too grand    nor to dream    he and me    do we condescend    we just shut our brown eye to see to the end    tim    see cottages    but, oh, so high! then    we shake    tim and i    and lest i    cry    tim    reads a little hymn    and we both pray    please, sir, i and tim    always lost the way! we must die    by and by    clergymen say    tim    shall    if i    do    i    too    if he    how shall we arrange it    tim    was    so    shy? take us simultaneous    lord    i    "tim"    and me! 197 morning    is the place for dew    corn    is made at noon    after dinner light    for flowers    dukes    for setting sun! 198 an awful tempest mashed the air    the clouds were gaunt, and few    a black    as of a spectre's cloak hid heaven and earth from view. the creatures chuckled on the roofs    and whistled in the air    and shook their fists    and gnashed their teeth    and swung their frenzied hair. the morning lit    the birds arose    the monster's faded eyes turned slowly to his native coast    and peace    was paradise! 199 i'm "wife"    i've finished that    that other state    i'm czar    i'm "woman" now    it's safer so    how odd the girl's life looks behind this soft eclipse    i think that earth feels so to folks in heaven    now    this being comfort    then that other kind    was pain    but why compare? i'm "wife"! stop there! 200 i stole them from a bee    because    thee    sweet plea    he pardoned me! 201 two swimmers wrestled on the spar    until the morning sun    when one    turned smiling to the land    oh god! the other one! the stray ships    passing    spied a face    upon the waters borne    with eyes in death    still begging raised    and hands    beseeching    thrown! 202 my eye is fuller than my vase    her cargo    is of dew    and still    my heart    my eye outweighs    east india    for you! 203 he forgot    and i    remembered    'twas an everyday affair    long ago as christ and peter    "warmed them" at the "temple fire." "thou wert with him"    quoth "the damsel"? "no"    said peter, 'twasn't me    jesus merely "looked" at peter    could i do aught else    to thee? 204 a slash of blue    a sweep of gray    some scarlet patches on the way, compose an evening sky    a little purple    slipped between    some ruby trousers hurried on    a wave of gold    a bank of day    this just makes out the morning sky. 205 i should not dare to leave my friend, because    because if he should die while i was gone    and i    too late    should reach the heart that wanted me    if i should disappoint the eyes that hunted    hunted so    to see    and could not bear to shut until they "noticed" me    they noticed me    if i should stab the patient faith so sure i'd come    so sure i'd come    it listening    listening    went to sleep    telling my tardy name    my heart would wish it broke before    since breaking then    since breaking then    were useless as next morning's sun    where midnight frosts    had lain! 206 the flower must not blame the bee    that seeketh his felicity too often at her door    but teach the footman from vevay    mistress is "not at home"    to say    to people    any more! 207 tho' i get home how late    how late    so i get home   'twill compensate    better will be the ecstasy that they have done expecting me    when night    descending    dumb    and dark    they hear my unexpected knock    transporting must the moment be    brewed from decades of agony! to think just how the fire will burn    just how long cheated eyes will turn    to wonder what myself will say, and what itself, will say to me    beguiles the centuries of way! 208 the rose did caper on her cheek    her bodice rose and fell    her pretty speech    like drunken men    did stagger pitiful    her fingers fumbled at her work    her needle would not go    what ailed so smart a little maid    it puzzled me to know    till opposite    i spied a cheek that bore another rose    just opposite    another speech that like the drunkard goes    a vest that like her bodice, danced    to the immortal tune    till those two troubled    little clocks ticked softly into one. 209 with thee, in the desert    with thee in the thirst    with thee in the tamarind wood    leopard breathes    at last! 210 the thought beneath so slight a film    is more distinctly seen    as laces just reveal the surge    or mists    the apennine 211 come slowly    eden! lips unused to thee    bashful    sip thy jessamines    as the fainting bee    reaching late his flower, round her chamber hums    counts his nectars    enters    and is lost in balms. 212 least rivers    docile to some sea. my caspian    thee. 213 did the harebell loose her girdle to the lover bee would the bee the harebell hallow much as formerly? did the "paradise"    persuaded    yield her moat of pearl    would the eden be an eden, or the earl    an earl? 214 i taste a liquor never brewed    from tankards scooped in pearl    not all the vats upon the rhine yield such an alcohol! inebriate of air    am i    and debauchee of dew    reeling    thro endless summer days    from inns of molten blue    when "landlords" turn the drunken bee out of the foxglove's door    when butterflies    renounce their "drams"    i shall but drink the more! till seraphs swing their snowy hats    and saints    to windows run    to see the little tippler leaning against the    sun    215 what is    "paradise"    who live there    are they "farmers"    do they "hoe"    do they know that this is "amherst"    and that i    am coming    too    do they wear "new shoes"    in "eden"    is it always pleasant    there    won't they scold us    when we're homesick    or tell god    how cross we are    you are sure there's such a person as "a father"    in the sky    so if i get lost    there    ever    or do what the nurse calls "die"    i shan't walk the "jasper"    barefoot    ransomed folks    won't laugh at me    maybe    "eden" a'n't so lonesome as new england used to be! 216 safe in their alabaster chambers    untouched my morning and untouched by noon    sleep the meek members of the resurrection    rafter of satin, and roof of stone. light laughs the breeze in her castle above them    babbles the bee in a stolid ear, pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence    ah, what sagacity perished here! 217 savior! i've no one else to tell    and so i trouble thee. i am the one forgot thee so    dost thou remember me? nor, for myself, i came so far    that were the little load    i brought thee the imperial heart i had not strength to hold    the heart i carried in my own    till mine too heavy grew    yet    strangest    heavier since it went    is it too large for you? 218 is it true, dear sue? are there two? i shouldn't like to come for fear of joggling him! if i could shut him up in a coffee cup, or tie him to a pin till i got in    or make him fast to "toby's" fist    hist! whist! i'd come! 219 she sweeps with many colored brooms    and leaves the shreds behind    oh housewife in the evening west    come back, and dust the pond! you dropped a purple ravelling in    you dropped an amber thread    and how you've littered all the east with duds of emerald! and still, she plies her spotted brooms, and still the aprons fly, till brooms fade softly into stars    and then i come away    220 could i    then    shut the door    lest my beseeching face    at last    rejected    be    of her? 221 it can't be "summer"! that    got through! it's early    yet    for "spring"! there's that long town of white    to cross    before the blackbirds sing! it can't be "dying"! it's too rouge    the dead shall go in white    so sunset shuts my question down with cuffs of chrysolite! 222 when katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side, when katie runs unwearied they follow on the road, when katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee    ah! katie! smile at fortune, with two so knit to thee! 223 i came to buy a smile    today    but just a single smile    the smallest one upon your face will suit me just as well    the one that no one else would miss it shone so very small    i'm pleading at the "counter"    sir    could you afford to sell    i've diamonds    on my fingers    you know what diamonds are? i've rubies    live the evening blood    and topaz    like the star! 'twould be "a bargain" for a jew! say    may i have it    sir? 224 i've nothing else    to bring, you know    so i keep bringing these    just as the night keeps fetching stars to our familiar eyes    maybe, we shouldn't mind them    unless they didn't come    then    maybe, it would puzzle us to find our way home    225 jesus! thy crucifix enable thee to guess the smaller size! jesus! thy second face mind thee in paradise of ours! 226 should you but fail at    sea    in sight of me    or doomed lie    next sun    to die    or rap    at paradise    unheard i'd harass god until he let you in! 227 teach him    when he makes the names    such an one    to say    on his babbling    berry    lips    as should sound    to me    were my ear    as near his nest    as my thought    today    as should sound    "forbid us not"    some like "emily." 228 blazing in gold and quenching in purple leaping like leopards to the sky then at the feet of the old horizon laying her spotted face to die stooping as low as the otter's window touching the roof and tinting the barn kissing her bonnet to the meadow and the juggler of day is gone 229 a burdock    clawed my gown    not burdock's    blame    but mine    who went too near the burdock's den    a bog    affronts my shoe    what else have bogs    to do    the only trade they know    the splashing men! ah, pity    then! 'tis minnows can despise! the elephant's    calm eyes look further on! 230 we    bee and i    live by the quaffing    'tisn't all hock    with us    life has its ale    but it's many a lay of the dim burgundy    we chant    for cheer    when the wines    fail    do we "get drunk"? ask the jolly clovers! do we "beat" our "wife"? i    never wed    bee    pledges his    in minute flagons    dainty    as the trees    on our deft head    while runs the rhine    he and i    revel    first    at the vat    and latest at the vine    noon    our last cup    "found dead"    "of nectar"    by a humming coroner    in a by thyme! 231 god permits industrious angels    afternoons    to play    i met one    forgot my schoolmates    all    for him    straightway    god calls home    the angels    promptly    at the setting sun    i missed mine    how dreary    marbles    after playing crown! 232 the sun    just touched the morning    the morning    happy thing    supposed that he had come to dwell    and life would all be spring! she felt herself supremer    a raised    ethereal thing! henceforth    for her    what holiday! meanwhile    her wheeling king    trailed    slow    along the orchards    his haughty    spangled hems    leaving a new necessity! the want of diadems! the morning    fluttered    staggered    felt feebly    for her crown    her unanointed forehead    henceforth    her only one! 233 the lamp burns sure    within    tho' serfs    supply the oil    it matters not the busy wick    at her phosphoric toil! the slave    forgets    to fill    the lamp    burns golden    on    unconscious that the oil is out    as that the slave    is gone. 234 you're right    "the way is narrow"    and "difficult the gate"    and "few there be"    correct again    that "enter in    thereat"    'tis costly    so are purples! 'tis just the price of breath    with but the "discount" of the grave    termed by the brokers    "death"! and after that    there's heaven    the good man's    "dividend"    and bad men    "go to jail"    i guess    235 the court is far away    no umpire    have i    my sovereign is offended    to gain his grace    i'd die! i'll seek his royal feet    i'll say    remember    king    thou shalt    thyself    one day    a child    implore a larger    thing    that empire    is of czars    as small    they say    as i    grant me    that day    the royalty    to intercede    for thee    236 if he dissolve    then    there is nothing    more    eclipse    at midnight    it was dark    before    sunset    at easter    blindness    on the dawn    faint star of bethlehem    gone down! would but some god    inform him    or it be too late! say    that the pulse just lisps    the chariots wait    say    that a little life    for his    is leaking    red    his little spaniel    tell him! will he heed? 237 i think just how my shape will rise    when i shall be "forgiven"    till hair    and eyes    and timid head    are out of sight    in heaven    i think just how my lips will weigh    with shapeless    quivering    prayer    that you    so late    "consider" me    the "sparrow" of your care    i mind me that of anguish    sent    some drifts were moved away    before my simple bosom    broke    and why not this    if they? and so i con that thing    "forgiven"    until    delirious    borne    by my long bright    and longer    trust    i drop my heart    unshriven! 238 kill your balm    and its odors bless you    bare your jessamine    to the storm    and she will fling her maddest perfume    haply    your summer night to charm    stab the bird    that built in your bosom    oh, could you catch her last refrain    bubble! "forgive"    "some better"    bubble! "carol for him    when i am gone"! 239 "heaven"    is what i cannot reach! the apple on the tree    provided it do hopeless    hang    that    "heaven" is    to me! the color, on the cruising cloud    the interdicted land    behind the hill    the house behind    there    paradise    is found! her teasing purples    afternoons    the credulous    decoy    enamored    of the conjuror    that spurned us    yesterday! 240 ah, moon    and star! you are very far    but were no one farther than you    do you think i'd stop for a firmament    or a cubit    or so? i could borrow a bonnet of the lark    and a chamois' silver boot    and a stirrup of an antelope    and be with you    tonight! but, moon, and star, though you're very far    there is one    farther than you    he    is more than a firmament    from me    so i can never go! 241 i like a look of agony, because i know it's true    men do not sham convulsion, nor simulate, a throe    the eyes glaze once    and that is death    impossible to feign the beads upon the forehead by homely anguish strung. 242 when we stand on the tops of things    and like the trees, look down    the smoke all cleared away from it    and mirrors on the scene    just laying light    no soul will wink except it have the flaw    the sound ones, like the hills    shall stand    no lighting, scares away    the perfect, nowhere be afraid    they bear their dauntless heads, where others, dare not go at noon, protected by their deeds    the stars dare shine occasionally upon a spotted world    and suns, go surer, for their proof, as if an axle, held    243 i've known a heaven, like a tent    to wrap its shining yards    pluck up its stakes, and disappear    without the sound of boards or rip of nail    or carpenter    but just the miles of stare    that signalize a show's retreat    in north america    no trace    no figment of the thing that dazzled, yesterday, no ring    no marvel    men, and feats    dissolved as utterly    as bird's far navigation discloses just a hue    a plash of oars, a gaiety    then swallowed up, of view. 244 it is easy to work when the soul is at play    but when the soul is in pain    the hearing him put his playthings up makes work difficult    then    it is simple, to ache in the bone, or the rind    but gimlets    among the nerve    mangle daintier    terribler    like a panter in the glove    245 i held a jewel in my fingers    and went to sleep    the day was warm, and winds were prosy    i said "'twill keep"    i woke    and chid my honest fingers, the gem was gone    and now, an amethyst remembrance is all i own    246 forever at his side to walk    the smaller of the two! brain of his brain    blood of his blood    two lives    one being    now    forever of his fate to taste    if grief    the largest part    if joy    to put my piece away for that beloved heart    all life    to know each other    whom we can never learn    and bye and bye    a change    called heaven    rapt neighborhoods of men    just finding out    what puzzled us    without the lexicon! 247 what would i give to see his face? i'd give    i'd give my life    of course    but that is not enough! stop just a minute    let me think! i'd give my biggest bobolink! that makes two    him    and life! you know who "june" is    i'd give her    roses a day from zanzibar    and lily tubes    like wells    bees    by the furlong    straits of blue navies of butterflies    sailed thro'    and dappled cowslip dells    then i have "shares" in primrose "banks"    daffodil dowries    spicy "stocks"    dominions    broad as dew    bags of doublons    adventurous bees brought me    from firmamental seas    and purple    from peru    now    have i bought it    "shylock"? say! sign me the bond! "i vow to pay to her    who pledges this    one hour    of her sovereign's face"! ecstatic contract! niggard grace! my kingdom's worth of bliss! 248 why    do they shut me out of heaven? did i sing    too loud? but    i can say a little "minor" timid as a bird! wouldn't the angels try me    just    once    more    just    see    if i troubled them    but don't    shut the door! oh, if i    were the gentleman in the "white robe"    and they    were the little hand    that knocked    could    i    forbid? 249 wild nights    wild nights! were i with thee wild nights should be our luxury! futile    the winds    to a heart in port    done with the compass    done with the chart! rowing in eden    ah, the sea! might i but moor    tonight    in thee! 250 i shall keep singing! birds will pass me on their way to yellower climes    each    with a robin's expectation    i    with my redbreast    and my rhymes    late    when i take my place in summer    but    i shall bring a fuller tune    vespers    are sweeter than matins    signor    morning    only the seed of noon    251 over the fence    strawberries    grow    over the fence    i could climb    if i tried, i know    berries are nice! but    if i stained my apron    god would certainly scold! oh, dear,    i guess if he were a boy    he'd    climb    if he could! 252 i can wade grief    whole pools of it    i'm used to that    but the least push of joy breaks up my feet    and i tip    drunken    let no pebble    smile    'twas the new liquor    that was all! power is only pain    stranded, thro' discipline, till weights    will hang    give balm    to giants    and they'll wilt, like men    give himmaleh    they'll carry    him! 253 you see i cannot see    your lifetime    i must guess    how many times it ache for me    today    confess    how many times for my far sake the brave eyes film    but i guess guessing hurts    mine    got so dim! too vague    the face    my own    so patient    covers    too far    the strength    my timidness enfolds    haunting the heart    like her translated faces    teasing the want    it    only    can suffice! 254 "hope" is the thing with feathers    that perches in the soul    and sings the tune without the words    and never stops    at all    and sweetest    in the gale    is heard    and sore must be the storm    that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm    i've heard it in the chillest land    and on the strangest sea    yet, never, in extremity, it asked a crumb    of me. 255 to die    takes just a little while    they say it doesn't hurt    it's only fainter    by degrees    and then    it's out of sight    a darker ribbon    for a day    a crape upon the hat    and then the pretty sunshine comes    and helps us to forget    the absent    mystic    creature    that but for love of us    had gone to sleep    that soundest time    without the weariness    256 if i'm lost    now that i was found    shall still my transport be    that once    on me    those jasper gates blazed open    suddenly    that in my awkward    gazing    face    the angels    softly peered    and touched me with their fleeces, almost as if they cared    i'm banished    now    you know it    how foreign that can be    you'll know    sir    when the savior's face turns so    away from you    257 delight is as the flight    or in the ratio of it, as the schools would say    the rainbow's way    a skein flung colored, after rain, would suit as bright, except that flight were aliment    "if it would last" i asked the east, when that bent stripe struck up my childish firmament    and i, for glee, took rainbows, as the common way, and empty skies the eccentricity    and so with lives    and so with butterflies    seen magic    through the fright that they will cheat the sight    and dower latitudes far on    some sudden morn    our portion    in the fashion    done    258 there's a certain slant of light, winter afternoons    that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes    heavenly hurt, it gives us    we can find no scar, but internal difference, where the meanings, are    none may teach it    any    'tis the seal despair    an imperial affliction sent us of the air    when it comes, the landscape listens    shadows    hold their breath    when it goes, 'tis like the distance on the look of death    259 good night! which put the candle out? a jealous zephyr    not a doubt    ah, friend, you little knew how long at that celestial wick the angels    labored diligent    extinguished    now    for you! it might    have been the light house spark    some sailor    rowing in the dark    had importuned to see! it might    have been the waning lamp that lit the drummer from the camp to purer reveille! 260 read    sweet    how others    strove    till we    are stouter    what they    renounced    till we    are less afraid    how many times they    bore the faithful witness    till we    are helped    as if a kingdom    cared! read then    of faith    that shone above the fagot    clear strains of hymn the river could not drown    brave names of men    and celestial women    passed out    of record into    renown! 261 put up my lute! what of    my music! since the sole ear i cared to charm    passive    as granite    laps my music    sobbing    will suit    as well as psalm! would but the "memnon" of the desert    teach me the strain that vanquished him    when he    surrendered to the sunrise    maybe    that    would awaken    them! 262 the lonesome for they know not what    the eastern exiles    be    who strayed beyond the amber line some madder holiday    and ever since    the purple moat they strive to climb    in vain    as birds    that tumble from the clouds do fumble at the strain    the blessed ether    taught them    some transatlantic morn    when heaven    was too common    to miss    too sure    to dote upon! 263 a single screw of flesh is all that pins the soul that stands for deity, to mine, upon my side the veil    once witnessed of the gauze    its name is put away as far from mine, as if no plight had printed yesterday, in tender    solemn alphabet, my eyes just turned to see, when it was smuggled by my sight into eternity    more hands    to hold    these are but two    one more new mailed nerve just granted, for the peril's sake    some striding    giant    love    so greater than the gods can show, they slink before the clay, that not for all their heaven can boast will let its keepsake    go 264 a weight with needles on the pounds    to push, and pierce, besides    that if the flesh resist the heft    the puncture    coolly tries    that not a pore be overlooked of all this compound frame    as manifold for anguish    as species    be    for name    265 where ships of purple    gently toss    on seas of daffodil    fantastic sailors    mingle    and then    the wharf is still! 266 this    is the land    the sunset washes    these    are the banks of the yellow sea    where it rose    or whither it rushes    these    are the western mystery! night after night her purple traffic strews the landing with opal bales    merchantmen    poise upon horizons    dip    and vanish like orioles! 267 did we disobey him? just one time! charged us to forget him    but we couldn't learn! were himself    such a dunce    what would we    do? love the dull lad    best    oh, wouldn't you? 268 me, change! me, alter! then i will, when on the everlasting hill a smaller purple grows    at sunset, or a lesser glow flickers upon cordillera    at day's superior close! 269 bound    a trouble    and lives can bear it! limit    how deep a bleeding go! so    many    drops    of vital scarlet    deal with the soul as with algebra! tell it the ages    to a cypher    and it will ache    contented    on    sing    at its pain    as any workman    notching the fall of the even sun! 270 one life of so much consequence! yet i    for it    would pay    my soul's entire income    in ceaseless    salary    one pearl    to me    so signal    that i would instant dive    although    i knew    to take it    would cost me    just a life! the sea is full    i know it! that    does not blur my gem! it burns    distinct from all the row    intact    in diadem! the life is thick    i know it! yet    not so dense a crowd    but monarchs    are perceptible    far down the dustiest road! 271 a solemn thing    it was    i said    a woman    white    to be    and wear    if god should count me fit    her blameless mystery    a hallowed thing    to drop a life into the purple well    too plummetless    that it return    eternity    until    i pondered how the bliss would look    and would it feel as big    when i could take it in my hand    as hovering    seen    through fog    and then    the size of this "small" life    the sages    call it small    swelled    like horizons    in my vest    and i sneered    softly    "small"! 272 i breathed enough to take the trick    and now, removed from air    i simulate the breath, so well    that one, to be quite sure    the lungs are stirless    must descend among the cunning cells    and touch the pantomine    himself, how numb, the bellows feels! 273 he put the belt around my life i heard the buckle snap    and turned away, imperial, my lifetime folding up    deliberate, as a duke would do a kingdom's title deed    henceforth, a dedicated sort    a member of the cloud. yet not too far to come at call    and do the little toils that make the circuit of the rest    and deal occasional smiles to lives that stoop to notice mine    and kindly ask it in    whose invitation, know you not for whom i must decline? 274 the only ghost i ever saw was dressed in mechlin    so    he wore no sandal on his foot    and stepped like flakes of snow    his gait    was soundless, like the bird    but rapid    like the roe    his fashions, quaint, mosaic    or haply, mistletoe    his conversation    seldom    his laughter, like the breeze    that dies away in dimples among the pensive trees    our interview    was transient    of me, himself was shy    and god forbid i look behind    since that appalling day! 275 doubt me! my dim companion! why, god, would be content with but a fraction of the life    poured thee, without a stint    the whole of me    forever    what more the woman can, say quick, that i may dower thee with last delight i own! it cannot be my spirit    for that was thine, before    i ceded all of dust i knew    what opulence the more had i    a freckled maiden, whose farthest of degree, was    that she might    some distant heaven, dwell timidly, with thee! sift her, from brow to barefoot! strain till your last surmise    drop, like a tapestry, away, before the fire's eyes    winnow her finest fondness    but hallow just the snow intact, in everlasting flake    oh, caviler, for you! 276 many a phrase has the english language    i have heard but one    low as the laughter of the cricket, loud, as the thunder's tongue    murmuring, like old caspian choirs, when the tide's a' lull    saying itself in new infection    like a whippoorwill    breaking in bright orthography on my simple sleep    thundering its prospective    till i stir, and weep    not for the sorrow, done me    but the push of joy    say it again, saxton! hush    only to me! 277 what if i say i shall not wait! what if i burst the fleshly gate    and pass escaped    to thee! what if i file this mortal    off    see where it hurt me    that's enough    and wade in liberty! they cannot take me    any more! dungeons can call    and guns implore unmeaning    now    to me    as laughter    was    an hour ago    or laces    or a travelling show    or who died    yesterday! 278 a shady friend    for torrid days    is easier to find    than one of higher temperature for frigid    hour of mind    the vane a little to the east    scares muslin souls    away    if broadcloth hearts are firmer    than those of organdy    who is to blame? the weaver? ah, the bewildering thread! the tapestries of paradise so notelessly    are made! 279 tie the strings to my life, my lord, then, i am ready to go! just a look at the horses    rapid! that will do! put me in on the firmest side    so i shall never fall    for we must ride to the judgment    and it's partly, down hill    but never i mind the steeper    and never i mind the sea    held fast in everlasting race    by my own choice, and thee    goodbye to the life i used to live    and the world i used to know    and kiss the hills, for me, just once    then    i am ready to go! 280 i felt a funeral, in my brain, and mourners to and fro kept treading    treading    till it seemed that sense was breaking through    and when they all were seated, a service, like a drum    kept beating    beating    till i thought my mind was going numb    and then i heard them lift a box and creak across my soul with those same boots of lead, again, then space    began to toll, as all the heavens were a bell, and being, but an ear, and i, and silence, some strange race wrecked, solitary, here    and then a plank in reason, broke, and i dropped down, and down    and hit a world, at every plunge, and finished knowing    then    281 'tis so appalling    it exhilarates    so over horror, it half captivates    the soul stares after it, secure    a sepulchre, fears frost, no more    to scan a ghost, is faint    but grappling, conquers it    how easy, torment, now    suspense kept sawing so    the truth, is bald, and cold    but that will hold    if any are not sure    we show them    prayer    but we, who know, stop hoping, now    looking at death, is dying    just let go the breath    and not the pillow at your cheek so slumbereth    others, can wrestle    yours, is done    and so of woe, bleak dreaded    come, it sets the fright at liberty    and terror's free    gay, ghastly, holiday! 282 how noteless men, and pleiads, stand, until a sudden sky reveals the fact that one is rapt forever from the eye    members of the invisible, existing, while we stare, in leagueless opportunity, o'ertakenless, as the air    why didn't we detain them? the heavens with a smile, sweep by our disappointed heads without a syllable    283 a mien to move a queen    half child    half heroine    an orleans in the eye that puts its manner by for humbler company when none are near even a tear    its frequent visitor    a bonnet like a duke    and yet a wren's peruke were not so shy of goer by    and hands    so slight    they would elate a sprite with merriment    a voice that alters    low and on the ear can go like let of snow    or shift supreme    as tone of realm on subjects diadem    too small    to fear    too distant    to endear    and so men compromise and just    revere    284 the drop, that wrestles in the sea    forgets her own locality    as i    toward thee    she knows herself an incense small    yet small    she sighs    if all    is all    how larger    be? the ocean    smiles    at her conceit    but she, forgetting amphitrite    pleads    "me"? 285 the robin's my criterion for tune    because i grow    where robins do    but, were i cuckoo born    i'd swear by him    the ode familiar    rules the noon    the buttercup's, my whim for bloom    because, we're orchard sprung    but, were i britain born, i'd daisies spurn    none but the nut    october fit    because, through dropping it, the seasons flit    i'm taught    without the snow's tableau winter, were lie    to me    because i see    new englandly    the queen, discerns like me    provincially    286 that after horror    that 'twas us    that passed the mouldering pier    just as the granite crumb let go    our savior, by a hair    a second more, had dropped too deep for fisherman to plumb    the very profile of the thought puts recollection numb    the possibility    to pass without a moment's bell    into conjecture's presence    is like a face of steel    that suddenly looks into ours with a metallic grin    the cordiality of death    who drills his welcome in    287 a clock stopped    not the mantel's    geneva's farthest skill can't put the puppet bowing    that just now dangled still    an awe came on the trinket! the figures hunched, with pain    then quivered out of decimals    into degreeless noon    it will not stir for doctors    this pendulum of snow    this shopman importunes it    while cool    concernless no    nods from the gilded pointers    nods from the seconds slim    decades of arrogance between the dial life    and him    288 i'm nobody! who are you? are you    nobody    too? then there's a pair of us! don't tell! they'd advertise    you know! how dreary    to be    somebody! how public    like a frog    to tell one's name    the livelong june    to an admiring bog! 289 i know some lonely houses off the road a robber'd like the look of    wooden barred, and windows hanging low, inviting to    a portico, where two could creep    one    hand the tools    the other peep    to make sure all's asleep    old fashioned eyes    not easy to surprise! how orderly the kitchen'd look, by night, with just a clock    but they could gag the tick    and mice won't bark    and so the walls    don't tell    none    will    a pair of spectacles ajar just stir    an almanac's aware    was it the mat    winked, or a nervous star? the moon    slides down the stair, to see who's there! there's plunder    where    tankard, or spoon    earring    or stone    a watch    some ancient brooch to match the grandmama    staid sleeping    there    day    rattles    too stealth's    slow    the sun has got as far as the third sycamore    screams chanticleer "who's there"? and echoes    trains away, sneer    "where"! while the old couple, just astir, fancy the sunrise    left the door ajar! 290 of bronze    and blaze    the north    tonight    so adequate    it forms    so preconcerted with itself    so distant    to alarms    and unconcern so sovereign to universe, or me    infects my simple spirit with taints of majesty    till i take vaster attitudes    and strut upon my stem    disdaining men, and oxygen, for arrogance of them    my splendors, are menagerie    but their completeless show will entertain the centuries when i, am long ago, an island in dishonored grass    whom none but beetles    know. 291 how the old mountains drip with sunset how the hemlocks burn    how the dun brake is draped in cinder by the wizard sun    how the old steeples hand the scarlet till the ball is full    have i the lip of the flamingo that i dare to tell? then, how the fire ebbs like billows    touching all the grass with a departing    sapphire    feature    as a duchess passed    how a small dusk crawls on the village till the houses blot and the odd flambeau, no men carry glimmer on the street    how it is night    in nest and kennel    and where was the wood    just a dome of abyss is bowing into solitude    these are the visions flitted guido    titian    never told    domenichino dropped his pencil    paralyzed, with gold    292 if your nerve, deny you    go above your nerve    he can lean against the grave, if he fear to swerve    that's a steady posture    never any bend held of those brass arms    best giant made    if your soul seesaw    lift the flesh door    the poltroon wants oxygen    nothing more    293 i got so i could take his name    without    tremendous gain    that stop sensation    on my soul    and thunder    in the room    i got so i could walk across that angle in the floor, where he turned so, and i turned    how    and all our sinew tore    i got so i could stir the box    in which his letters grew without that forcing, in my breath    as staples    driven through    could dimly recollect a grace    i think, they call it "god"    renowned to ease extremity    when formula, had failed    and shape my hands    petition's way, tho' ignorant of a word that ordination    utters    my business, with the cloud, if any power behind it, be, not subject to despair    it care, in some remoter way, for so minute affair as misery    itself, too vast, for interrupting    more    294 the doomed    regard the sunrise with different delight    because    when next it burns abroad they doubt to witness it    the man    to die    tomorrow    harks for the meadow bird    because its music stirs the axe that clamors for his head    joyful    to whom the sunrise precedes enamored    day    joyful    for whom the meadow bird has ought but elegy! 295 unto like story    trouble has enticed me    how kinsmen fell    brothers and sister    who preferred the glory    and their young will bent to the scaffold, or in dungeons    chanted    till god's full time    when they let go the ignominy    smiling    and shame went still    unto guessed crests, my moaning fancy, leads me, worn fair by heads rejected    in the lower country    of honors there    such spirit makes her perpetual mention, that i    grown bold    step martial    at my crucifixion    as trumpets    rolled    feet, small as mine    have marched in revolution firm to the drum    hands    not so stout    hoisted them    in witness    when speech went numb    let me not shame their sublime deportments    drilled bright    beckoning    etruscan invitation    toward light    296 one year ago    jots what? god    spell the word! i    can't    was't grace? not that    was't glory? that    will do    spell slower    glory    such anniversary shall be    sometimes    not often    in eternity    when farther parted, than the common woe    look    feed upon each other's faces    so    in doubtful meal, if it be possible their banquet's true    i tasted    careless    then    i did not know the wine came once a world    did you? oh, had you told me so    this thirst would blister    easier    now    you said it hurt you    most    mine    was an acorn's breast    and could not know how fondness grew in shaggier vest    perhaps    i couldn't    but, had you looked in    a giant    eye to eye with you, had been    no acorn    then    so    twelve months ago    we breathed    then dropped the air    which bore it best? was this    the patientest    because it was a child, you know    and could not value    air? if to be "elder"    mean most pain    i'm old enough, today, i'm certain    then    as old as thee    how soon? one    birthday more    or ten? let me    choose! ah, sir, none! 297 it's like the light    a fashionless delight    it's like the bee    a dateless    melody    it's like the woods    private    like the breeze    phraseless    yet it stirs the proudest trees    it's like the morning    best    when it's done    and the everlasting clocks    chime    noon! 298 alone, i cannot be    for hosts    do visit me    recordless company    who baffle key    they have no robes, nor names    no almanacs    nor climes    but general homes like gnomes    their coming, may be known by couriers within    their going    is not    for they've never gone    299 your riches    taught me    poverty. myself    a millionaire in little wealths, as girls could boast till broad as buenos ayre    you drifted your dominions    a different peru    and i esteemed all poverty for life's estate with you    of mines, i little know    myself    but just the names, of gems    the colors of the commonest    and scarce of diadems    so much, that did i meet the queen    her glory i should know    but this, must be a different wealth    to miss it    beggars so    i'm sure 'tis india    all day    to those who look on you    without a stint    without a blame, might i    but be the jew    i'm sure it is golconda    beyond my power to deem    to have a smile for mine    each day, how better, than a gem! at least, it solaces to know that there exists    a gold    altho' i prove it, just in time its distance    to behold    its far    far treasure to surmise    and estimate the pearl    that slipped my simple fingers through    while just a girl at school. 300 "morning"    means "milking"    to the farmer    dawn    to the teneriffe    dice    to the maid    morning means just risk    to the lover    just revelation    to the beloved    epicures    date a breakfast    by it    brides    an apocalypse    worlds    a flood    faint going lives    their lapse from sighing    faith    the experiment of our lord 301 i reason, earth is short    and anguish    absolute    and many hurt, but, what of that? i reason, we could die    the best vitality cannot excel decay, but, what of that? i reason, that in heaven    somehow, it will be even    some new equation, given    but, what of that? 302 like some old fashioned miracle when summertime is done    seems summer's recollection and the affairs of june as infinite tradition as cinderella's bays    or little john    of lincoln green    or blue beard's galleries    her bees have a fictitious hum    her blossoms, like a dream    elate us    till we almost weep    so plausible    they seem    her memories like strains    review    when orchestra is dumb    the violin in baize replaced    and ear    and heaven    numb    303 the soul selects her own society    then    shuts the door    to her divine majority    present no more    unmoved    she notes the chariots    pausing    at her low gate    unmoved    an emperor be kneeling upon her mat    i've known her    from an ample nation    choose one    then    close the valves of her attention    like stone    304 the day came slow    till five o'clock    then sprang before the hills like hindered rubies    or the light a sudden musket    spills    the purple could not keep the east    the sunrise shook abroad like breadths of topaz    packed a night    the lady just unrolled    the happy winds    their timbrels took    the birds    in docile rows arranged themselves around their prince the wind    is prince of those    the orchard sparkled like a jew    how mighty 'twas    to be a guest in this stupendous place    the parlor    of the day    305 the difference between despair and fear    is like the one between the instant of a wreck and when the wreck has been    the mind is smooth    no motion    contented as the eye upon the forehead of a bust    that knows    it cannot see    306 the soul's superior instants occur to her    alone    when friend    and earth's occasion have infinite withdrawn    or she    herself    ascended to too remote a height for lower recognition than her omnipotent    this mortal abolition is seldom    but as fair as apparition    subject to autocratic air    eternity's disclosure to favorites    a few    of the colossal substance of immortality 307 the one who could repeat the summer day    were greater than itself    though he minutest of mankind should be    and he    could reproduce the sun    at period of going down    the lingering    and the stain    i mean    when orient have been outgrown and occident    become unknown    his name    remain    308 i send two sunsets    day and i    in competition ran    i finished two    and several stars    while he    was making one    his own was ampler    but as i was saying to a friend    mine    is the more convenient to carry in the hand    309 for largest woman's hearth i knew    'tis little i can do    and yet the largest woman's heart could hold an arrow    too    and so, instructed by my own, i tenderer, turn me to. 310 give little anguish    lives will fret    give avalanches    and they'll slant    straighten    look cautious for their breath    but make no syllable    like death    who only shows the marble disc    sublimer sort    than speech    311 it sifts from leaden sieves    it powders all the wood. it fills with alabaster wool the wrinkles of the road    it makes an even face of mountain, and of plain    unbroken forehead from the east unto the east again    it reaches to the fence    it wraps it rail by rail till it is lost in fleeces    it deals celestial vail to stump, and stack    and stem    a summer's empty room    acres of joints, where harvests were, recordless, but for them   it ruffles wrists of posts as ankles of a queen    then stills its artisans    like ghosts    denying they have been    312 her    "last poems"    poets    ended    silver    perished    with her tongue    not on record    bubbled other, flute    or woman    so divine    not unto its summer    morning robin    uttered half the tune    gushed too free for the adoring    from the anglo florentine    late    the praise    'tis dull    conferring on the head too high to crown    diadem    or ducal showing    be its grave    sufficient sign    nought    that we    no poet's kinsman    suffocate    with easy woe    what, and if, ourself a bridegroom    put her down    in italy? 313 i should have been too glad, i see    too lifted    for the scant degree of life's penurious round    my little circuit would have shamed this new circumference    have blamed    the homelier time behind. i should have been too saved    i see    too rescued    fear too dim to me that i could spell the prayer i knew so perfect    yesterday    that scalding one    sabachthani    recited fluent    here    earth would have been too much    i see    and heaven    not enough for me    i should have had the joy without the fear    to justify    the palm    without the calvary    so savior    crucify    defeat    whets victory    they say    the reefs    in old gethsemane    endear the coast    beyond! 'tis beggars    banquets    can define    'tis parching    vitalizes wine    "faith" bleats    to understand! 314 nature    sometimes sears a sapling    sometimes    scalps a tree    her green people recollect it when they do not die    fainter leaves    to further seasons    dumbly testify    we    who have the souls    die oftener    not so vitally    315 he fumbles at your soul as players at the keys before they drop full music on    he stuns you by degrees    prepares your brittle nature for the ethereal blow by fainter hammers    further heard    then nearer    then so slow your breath has time to straighten    your brain    to bubble cool    deals    one    imperial    thunderbolt    that scalps your naked soul    when winds take forests in the paws    the universe    is still    316 the wind didn't come from the orchard    today    further than that    nor stop to play with the hay    nor joggle a hat    he's a transitive fellow    very    rely on that    if he leave a bur at the door we know he has climbed a fir    but the fir is where    declare    were you ever there? if he brings odors of clovers    and that is his business    not ours    then he has been with the mowers    whetting away the hours to sweet pauses of hay    his way    of a june day    if he fling sand, and pebble    little boys hats    and stubble    with an occasional steeple    and a hoarse "get out of the way, i say," who'd be the fool to stay? would you    say    would you be the fool to stay? 317 just so    jesus    raps    he    doesn't weary    last    at the knocker    and first    at the bell. then    on divinest tiptoe    standing    might he but spy the lady's soul    when he    retires    chilled    or weary    it will be ample time for    me    patient    upon the steps    until then    hears! i am knocking    low at thee. 318 i'll tell you how the sun rose    a ribbon at a time    the steeples swam in amethyst    the news, like squirrels, ran    the hills untied their bonnets    the bobolinks    begun    then i said softly to myself    "that must have been the sun"! but how he set    i know not    there seemed a purple stile that little yellow boys and girls were climbing all the while    till when they reached the other side, a dominie in gray    put gently up the evening bars    and led the flock away    319 the nearest dream recedes    unrealized    the heaven we chase, like the june bee    before the school boy, invites the race    stoops    to an easy clover    dips    evades    teases    deploys    then    to the royal clouds lifts his light pinnace    heedless of the boy    staring    bewildered    at the mocking sky    homesick for steadfast honey    ah, the bee flies not that brews that rare variety! 320 we play at paste    till qualified, for pearl    then, drop the paste    and deem ourself a fool    the shapes    though    were similar    and our new hands learned gem tactics    practicing sands    321 of all the sounds despatched abroad, there's not a charge to me like that old measure in the boughs    that phraseless melody    the wind does    working like a hand, whose fingers comb the sky    then quiver down    with tufts of tune    permitted gods, and me    inheritance, it is, to us    beyond the art to earn    beyond the trait to take away by robber, since the gain is gotten not of fingers    and inner than the bone    hid golden, for the whole of days, and even in the urn, i cannot vouch the merry dust do not arise and play in some odd fashion of its own, some quainter holiday, when winds go round and round in bands    and thrum upon the door, and birds take places, overhead, to bear them orchestra. i crave him grace of summer boughs, if such an outcast be    who never heard that fleshless chant    rise    solemn    on the tree, as if some caravan of sound off deserts, in the sky, had parted rank, then knit, and swept    in seamless company    322 there came a day at summer's full, entirely for me    i thought that such were for the saints, where resurrections    be    the sun, as common, went abroad, the flowers, accustomed, blew, as if no soul the solstice passed that maketh all things new    the time was scarce profaned, by speech    the symbol of a word was needless, as at sacrament, the wardrobe    of our lord    each was to each the sealed church, permitted to commune this    time    lest we too awkward show at supper of the lamb. the hours slid fast    as hours will, clutched tight, by greedy hands    so faces on two decks, look back, bound to opposing lands    and so when all the time had leaked, without external sound each bound the other's crucifix    we gave no other bond    sufficient troth, that we shall rise    deposed    at length, the grave    to that new marriage, justified    through calvaries of love    323 as if i asked a common alms, and in my wondering hand a stranger pressed a kingdom, and i, bewildered, stand    as if i asked the orient had it for me a morn    and it should lift its purple dikes, and shatter me with dawn! 324 some keep the sabbath going to church    i keep it, staying at home    with a bobolink for a chorister    and an orchard, for a dome    some keep the sabbath in surplice    i just wear my wings    and instead of tolling the bell, for church, our little sexton    sings. god preaches, a noted clergyman    and the sermon is never long, so instead of getting to heaven, at least    i'm going, all along. 325 of tribulation, these are they, denoted by the white    the spangled gowns, a lesser rank of victors    designate    all these    did conquer    but the ones who overcame most times    wear nothing commoner than snow    no ornament, but palms    surrender    is a sort unknown    on this superior soil    defeat    an outgrown anguish    remembered, as the mile our panting ankle barely passed    when night devoured the road    but we    stood whispering in the house    and all we said    was "saved"! 326 i cannot dance upon my toes    no man instructed me    but oftentimes, among my mind, a glee possesseth me, that had i ballet knowledge    would put itself abroad in pirouette to blanch a troupe    or lay a prima, mad, and though i had no gown of gauze    no ringlet, to my hair, nor hopped to audiences    like birds, one claw upon the air, nor tossed my shape in eider balls, nor rolled on wheels of snow till i was out of sight, in sound, the house encore me so    nor any know i know the art i mention    easy    here    nor any placard boast me    it's full as opera    327 before i got my eye put out i liked as well to see    as other creatures, that have eyes and know no other way    but were it told to me    today    that i might have the sky for mine    i tell you that my heart would split, for size of me    the meadows    mine    the mountains    mine    all forests    stintless stars    as much of noon as i could take between my finite eyes    the motions of the dipping birds    the morning's amber road    for mine    to look at when i liked    the news would strike me dead    so safer    guess    with just my soul upon the window pane    where other creatures put their eyes    incautious    of the sun    328 a bird came down the walk    he did not know i saw    he bit an angleworm in halves and ate the fellow, raw, and then he drank a dew from a convenient grass    and then hopped sidewise to the wall to let a beetle pass    he glanced with rapid eyes that hurried all around    they looked like frightened beads, i thought    he stirred his velvet head like one in danger, cautious, i offered him a crumb and he unrolled his feathers and rowed him softer home    than oars divide the ocean, too silver for a seam    or butterflies, off banks of noon leap, plashless as they swim. 329 so glad we are    a stranger'd deem 'twas sorry, that we were    for where the holiday should be there publishes a tear    nor how ourselves be justified    since grief and joy are done so similar    an optizan could not decide between    330 the juggler's hat her country is    the mountain gorse    the bee's! 331 while asters    on the hill    their everlasting fashions    set    and covenant gentians    frill! 332 there are two ripenings    one    of sight    whose forces spheric wind until the velvet product drop spicy to the ground    a homelier maturing    a process in the bur    that teeth of frosts alone disclose in far october air. 333 the grass so little has to do    a sphere of simple green    with only butterflies to brood and bees to entertain    and stir all day to pretty tunes the breezes fetch along    and hold the sunshine in its lap and bow to everything    and thread the dews, all night, like pearls    and make itself so fine a duchess were too common for such a noticing    and even when it dies    to pass in odors so divine    like lowly spices, lain to sleep    or spikenards, perishing    and then, in sovereign barns to dwell    and dream the days away, the grass so little has to do i wish i were a hay    334 all the letters i can write are not fair as this    syllables of velvet    sentences of plush, depths of ruby, undrained, hid, lip, for thee    play it were a humming bird    and just sipped    me    335 'tis not that dying hurts us so    'tis living    hurts us more    but dying    is a different way    a kind behind the door    the southern custom    of the bird    that ere the frosts are due    accepts a better latitude    we    are the birds    that stay. the shrivers round farmers' doors    for whose reluctant crumb    we stipulate    till pitying snows persuade our feathers home. 336 the face i carry with me    last    when i go out of time    to take my rank    by    in the west    that face    will just be thine    i'll hand it to the angel    that    sir    was my degree    in kingdoms    you have heard the raised    refer to    possibly. he'll take it    scan it    step aside    return    with such a crown as gabriel    never capered at    and beg me put it on    and then    he'll turn me round and round    to an admiring sky    as one that bore her master's name    sufficient royalty! 337 i know a place where summer strives with such a practised frost    she    each year    leads her daisies back    recording briefly    "lost"    but when the south wind stirs the pools and struggles in the lanes    her heart misgives her, for her vow    and she pours soft refrains into the lap of adamant    and spices    and the dew    that stiffens quietly to quartz    upon her amber shoe    338 i know that he exists. somewhere    in silence    he has hid his rare life from our gross eyes. 'tis an instant's play. 'tis a fond ambush    just to make bliss earn her own surprise! but    should the play prove piercing earnest    should the glee    glaze    in death's    stiff    stare    would not the fun look too expensive! would not the jest    have crawled too far! 339 i tend my flowers for thee    bright absentee! my fuchsia's coral seams rip    while the sower    dreams    geraniums    tint    and spot    low daisies    dot    my cactus    splits her beard to show her throat    carnations    tip their spice    and bees    pick up    a hyacinth    i hid    puts out a ruffled head    and odors fall from flasks    so small    you marvel how they held    globe roses    break their satin glake    upon my garden floor    yet    thou    not there    i had as lief they bore no crimson    more    thy flower    be gay    her lord    away! it ill becometh me    i'll dwell in calyx    gray    how modestly    alway    thy daisy    draped for thee! 340 is bliss then, such abyss, i must not put my foot amiss for fear i spoil my shoe? i'd rather suit my foot than save my boot    for yet to buy another pair is possible, at any store    but bliss, is sold just once. the patent lost none buy it any more    say, foot, decide the point    the lady cross, or not? verdict for boot! 341 after great pain, a formal feeling comes    the nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs    the stiff heart questions was it he, that bore, and yesterday, or centuries before? the feet, mechanical, go round    of ground, or air, or ought    a wooden way regardless grown, a quartz contentment, like a stone    this is the hour of lead    remembered, if outlived, as freezing persons, recollect the snow    first    chill    then stupor    then the letting go    342 it will be summer    eventually. ladies    with parasols    sauntering gentlemen    with canes    and little girls    with dolls    will tint the pallid landscape    as 'twere a bright bouquet    thro' drifted deep, in parian    the village lies    today    the lilacs    bending many a year    will sway with purple load    the bees    will not despise the tune    their forefathers    have hummed    the wild rose    redden in the bog    the aster    on the hill her everlasting fashion    set    and covenant gentians    frill    till summer folds her miracle    as women    do    their gown    of priests    adjust the symbols    when sacrament    is done    343 my reward for being, was this. my premium    my bliss    an admiralty, less    a sceptre    penniless    and realms    just dross    when thrones accost my hands    with "me, miss, me"    i'll unroll thee    dominions dowerless    beside this grace    election    vote    the ballots of eternity, will show just that. 344 'twas the old    road    through pain    that unfrequented    one    with many a turn    and thorn    that stops    at heaven    this    was the town    she passed    there    where she    rested    last    then    stepped more fast    the little tracks    close prest    then    not so swift    slow    slow    as feet did weary    grow    then    stopped    no other track! wait! look! her little book    the leaf    at love    turned back    her very hat    and this worn shoe just fits the track    herself    though    fled! another bed    a short one    women make    tonight    in chambers bright    too out of sight    though    for our hoarse good night    to touch her head! 345 funny    to be a century    and see the people    going by    i    should die of the oddity    but then    i'm not so staid    as he    he keeps his secrets safely    very    were he to tell    extremely sorry this bashful globe of ours would be    so dainty of publicity    346 not probable    the barest chance    a smile too few    a word too much and far from heaven as the rest    the soul so close on paradise    what if the bird from journey far    confused by sweets    as mortals    are    forget the secret of his wing and perish    but a bough between    oh, groping feet    oh phantom queen! 347 when night is almost done    and sunrise grows so near that we can touch the spaces    it's time to smooth the hair    and get the dimples ready    and wonder we could care for that old    faded midnight    that frightened    but an hour    348 i dreaded that first robin, so, but he is mastered, now, i'm accustomed to him grown, he hurts a little, though    i thought if i could only live till that first shout got by    not all pianos in the woods had power to mangle me    i dared not meet the daffodils    for fear their yellow gown would pierce me with a fashion so foreign to my own    i wished the grass would hurry    so    when 'twas time to see    he'd be too tall, the tallest one could stretch    to look at me    i could not bear the bees should come, i wished they'd stay away in those dim countries where they go, what word had they, for me? they're here, though; not a creature failed    no blossom stayed away in gentle deference to me    the queen of calvary    each one salutes me, as he goes, and i, my childish plumes, lift, in bereaved acknowledgment of their unthinking drums    349 i had the glory    that will do    an honor, thought can turn her to when lesser fames invite    with one long "nay"    bliss' early shape deforming    dwindling    gulfing up    time's possibility. 350 they leave us with the infinite. but he    is not a man    his fingers are the size of fists    his fists, the size of men    and whom he foundeth, with his arm as himmaleh, shall stand    gibraltar's everlasting shoe poised lightly on his hand, so trust him, comrade    you for you, and i, for you and me eternity is ample, and quick enough, if true. 351 i felt my life with both my hands to see if it was there    i held my spirit to the glass, to prove it possibler    i turned my being round and round and paused at every pound to ask the owner's name    for doubt, that i should know the sound    i judged my features    jarred my hair    i pushed my dimples by, and waited    if they    twinkled back    conviction might, of me    i told myself, "take courage, friend    that    was a former time    but we might learn to like the heaven, as well as our old home!" 352 perhaps i asked too large    i take    no less than skies    for earths, grow thick as berries, in my native town    my basked holds    just    firmaments    those    dangle easy    on my arm, but smaller bundles    cram. 353 a happy lip    breaks sudden    it doesn't state you how it contemplated    smiling    just consummated    now    but this one, wears its merriment so patient    like a pain    fresh gilded    to elude the eyes unqualified, to scan    354 from cocoon forth a butterfly as lady from her door emerged    a summer afternoon    repairing everywhere    without design    that i could trace except to stray abroad on miscellaneous enterprise the clovers    understood    her pretty parasol be seen contracting in a field where men made hay    then struggling hard with an opposing cloud    where parties    phantom as herself    to nowhere    seemed to go in purposeless circumference    as 'twere a tropic show    and notwithstanding bee    that worked    and flower    that zealous blew    this audience of idleness disdained them, from the sky    till sundown crept    a steady tide    and men that made the hay    and afternoon    and butterfly    extinguished    in the sea    355 'tis opposites    entice    deformed men    ponder grace    bright fires    the blanketless    the lost    day's face    the blind    esteem it be enough estate    to see    the captive    strangles new    for deeming    beggars    play    to lack    enamor thee    tho' the divinity    be only me    356 the day that i was crowned was like the other days    until the coronation came    and then    'twas otherwise    as carbon in the coal and carbon in the gem are one    and yet the former were dull for diadem    i rose, and all was plain    but when the day declined myself and it, in majesty were equally    adorned    the grace that i    was chose    to me    surpassed the crown that was the witness for the grace    'twas even that 'twas mine    357 god is a distant    stately lover    woos, as he states us    by his son    verily, a vicarious courtship    "miles", and "priscilla", were such an one    but, lest the soul    like fair "priscilla" choose the envoy    and spurn the groom    vouches, with hyperbolic archness    "miles", and "john alden" were synonym    358 if any sink, assure that this, now standing    failed like themselves    and conscious that it rose    grew by the fact, and not the understanding how weakness passed    or force    arose    tell that the worst, is easy in a moment    dread, but the whizzing, before the ball    when the ball enters, enters silence    dying    annuls the power to kill. 359 i gained it so    by climbing slow    by catching at the twigs that grow between the bliss    and me    it hung so high as well the sky attempt by strategy    i said i gained it    this    was all    look, how i clutch it lest it fall    and i a pauper go    unfitted by an instant's grace for the contented    beggar's face i wore    an hour ago    360 death sets a thing significant the eye had hurried by except a perished creature entreat us tenderly to ponder little workmanships in crayon, or in wool, with "this was last her fingers did"    industrious until    the thimble weighed too heavy    the stitches stopped    by themselves    and then 'twas put among the dust upon the closet shelves    a book i have    a friend gave    whose pencil    here and there    had notched the place that pleased him    at rest    his fingers are    now    when i read    i read not    for interrupting tears    obliterate the etchings too costly for repairs. 361 what i can do    i will    though it be little as a daffodil    that i cannot    must be unknown to possibility    362 it struck me    every day    the lightning was as new as if the cloud that instant slit and let the fire through    it burned me    in the night    it blistered to my dream    it sickened fresh upon my sight    with every morn that came    i though that storm    was brief    the maddest    quickest by    but nature lost the date of this    and left it in the sky    363 i went to thank her    but she slept    her bed    a funneled stone    with nosegays at the head and foot    that travellers    had thrown    who went to thank her    but she slept    'twas short    to cross the sea    to look upon her like    alive    but turning back    'twas slow    364 the morning after woe    'tis frequently the way    surpasses all that rose before    for utter jubilee    as nature did not care    and piled her blossoms on    and further to parade a joy her victim stared upon    the birds declaim their tunes    pronouncing every word like hammers    did they know they fell like litanies of lead    on here and there    a creature    they'd modify the glee to fit some crucifixal clef    some key of calvary    365 dare you see a soul at the white heat? then crouch within the door    red    is the fire's common tint    but when the vivid ore has vanquished flame's conditions, it quivers from the forge without a color, but the light of unanointed blaze. least village has its blacksmith whose anvil's even ring stands symbol for the finer forge that soundless tugs    within    refining these impatient ores with hammer, and with blaze until the designated light repudiate the forge    366 although i put away his life    an ornament too grand for forehead low as mine, to wear, this might have been the hand that sowed the flower, he preferred    or smoothed a homely pain, or pushed the pebble from his path    or played his chosen tune    on lute the least    the latest    but just his ear could know that whatsoe'er delighted it, i never would let go    the foot to bear his errand    a little boot i know    would leap abroad like antelope    with just the grant to do    his weariest commandment    a sweeter to obey, than "hide and seek"    or skip to flutes    or all day, chase the bee    your servant, sir, will weary    the surgeon, will not come    the world, will have its own    to do    the dust, will vex your fame    the cold will force your tightest door some february day, but say my apron bring the sticks to make your cottage gay    that i may take that promise to paradise, with me    to teach the angels, avarice, you, sir, taught first    to me. 367 over and over, like a tune    the recollection plays    drums off the phantom battlements cornets of paradise    snatches, from baptized generations    cadences too grand but for the justified processions at the lord's right hand. 368 how sick    to wait    in any place    but thine    i knew last night    when someone tried to twine    thinking    perhaps    that i looked tired    or alone    or breaking    almost    with unspoken pain    and i turned    ducal    that right    was thine    one port    suffices    for a brig    like mine    ours be the tossing    wild though the sea    rather than a mooring    unshared by thee. ours be the cargo    unladed    here    rather than the "spicy isles   " and thou    not there    369 she lay as if at play her life had leaped away    intending to return    but not so soon    her merry arms, half dropt    as if for lull of sport    an instant had forgot    the trick to start    her dancing eyes    ajar    as if their owner were still sparkling through for fun    at you    her morning at the door    devising, i am sure    to force her sleep    so light    so deep    370 heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved    the site    of it    by architect could not again be proved    'tis vast    as our capacity    as fair    as our idea    to him of adequate desire no further 'tis, than here    371 a precious    mouldering pleasure    'tis    to meet an antique book    in just the dress his century wore    a privilege    i think    his venerable hand to take    and warming in our own    a passage back    or two    to make    to times when he    was young    his quaint opinions    to inspect    his thought to ascertain on themes concern our mutual mind    the literature of man    what interested scholars    most    what competitions ran    when plato    was a certainty    and sophocles    a man    when sappho    was a living girl    and beatrice wore the gown that dante    deified    facts centuries before he traverses    familiar    as one should come to town    and tell you all your dreams    were true    he lived    where dreams were born    his presence is enchantment    you beg him not to go    old volume shake their vellum heads and tantalize    just so    372 i know lives, i could miss without a misery    others    whose instant's wanting    would be eternity    the last    a scanty number    'twould scarcely fill a two    the first    a gnat's horizon could easily outgrow    373 i'm saying every day "if i should be a queen, tomorrow"    i'd do this way    and so i deck, a little, if it be, i wake a bourbon, none on me, bend supercilious    with "this was she    begged in the market place    yesterday." court is a stately place    i've heard men say    so i loop my apron, against the majesty with bright pins of buttercup    that not too plain    rank    overtake me    and perch my tongue on twigs of singing    rather high    but this, might be my brief term to qualify    put from my simple speech all plain word    take other accents, as such i heard though but for the cricket    just, and but for the bee    not in all the meadow    one accost me    better to be ready    than did next morn meet me in aragon    my old gown    on    and the surprised air rustics    wear    summoned    unexpectedly    to exeter    374 i went to heaven    'twas a small town    lit    with a ruby    lathed    with down    stiller    than the fields at the full dew    beautiful    as pictures    no man drew. people    like the moth    of mechlin    frames    duties    of gossamer    and eider    names    almost    contented    i    could be    'mong such unique society    375 the angle of a landscape    that every time i wake    between my curtain and the wall upon an ample crack    like a venetian    waiting    accosts my open eye    is just a bough of apples    held slanting, in the sky    the pattern of a chimney    the forehead of a hill    sometimes    a vane's forefinger    but that's    occasional    the seasons    shift    my picture    upon my emerald bough, i wake    to find no    emeralds    then    diamonds    which the snow from polar caskets    fetched me    the chimney    and the hill    and just the steeple's finger    these    never stir at all    376 of course    i prayed    and did god care? he cared as much as on the air a bird    had stamped her foot    and cried "give me"    my reason    life    i had not had    but for yourself    'twere better charity to leave me in the atom's tomb    merry, and nought, and gay, and numb    than this smart misery. 377 to lose one's faith    surpass the loss of an estate    because estates can be replenished    faith cannot    inherited with life    belief    but once    can be    annihilate a single clause    and being's    beggary    378 i saw no way    the heavens were stitched    i felt the columns close    the earth reversed her hemispheres    i touched the universe    and back it slid    and i alone    a speck upon a ball    went out upon circumference    beyond the dip of bell    379 rehearsal to ourselves of a withdrawn delight    affords a bliss like murder    omnipotent    acute    we will not drop the dirk    because we love the wound the dirk commemorate    itself remind us that we died. 380 there is a flower that bees prefer    and butterflies    desire    to gain the purple democrat the humming bird    aspire    and whatsoever insect pass    a honey bear away proportioned to his several dearth and her    capacity    her face be rounder than the moon and ruddier than the gown or orchis in the pasture    or rhododendron    worn    she doth not wait for june    before the world be green    her sturdy little countenance against the wind    be seen    contending with the grass    near kinsman to herself    for privilege of sod and sun    sweet litigants for life    and when the hills be full    and newer fashions blow    doth not retract a single spice for pang of jealousy    her public    be the noon    her providence    the sun    her progress    by the bee    proclaimed    in sovereign    swerveless tune    the bravest    of the host    surrendering    the last    nor even of defeat    aware    what cancelled by the frost    381 a secret told    ceases to be a secret    then    a secret    kept    that    can appal but one    better of it    continual be afraid    than it    and whom you told it to    beside    382 for death    or rather for the things 'twould buy    this    put away life's opportunity    the things that death will buy are room    escape from circumstances    and a name    with gifts of life how death's gifts may compare    we know not    for the rates    lie here    383 exhilaration    is within    there can no outer wine so royally intoxicate as that diviner brand the soul achieves    herself    to drink    or set away for visitor    or sacrament    'tis not of holiday to stimulate a man who hath the ample rhine within his closet    best you can exhale in offering. 384 no rack can torture me    my soul    at liberty    behind this mortal bone there knits a bolder one    you cannot prick with saw    nor pierce with scimitar    two bodies    therefore be    bind one    the other fly    the eagle of his nest no easier divest    and gain the sky than mayest thou    except thyself may be thine enemy    captivity is consciousness    so's liberty. 385 smiling back from coronation may be luxury    on the heads that started with us    being's peasantry    recognizing in procession ones we former knew    when ourselves were also dusty    centuries ago    had the triumph no conviction of how many be    stimulated    by the contrast    unto misery    386 answer july    where is the bee    where is the blush    where is the hay? ah, said july    where is the seed    where is the bud    where is the may    answer thee    me    nay    said the may    show me the snow    show me the bells    show me the jay! quibbled the jay    where be the maize    where be the haze    where be the bur? here    said the year    387 the sweetest heresy received that man and woman know    each other's convert    though the faith accommodate but two    the churches are so frequent    the ritual    so small    the grace so unavoidable    to fail    is infidel    388 take your heaven further on    this    to heaven divine has gone    had you earlier blundered in possibly, e'en you had seen an eternity    put on    now    to ring a door beyond is the utmost of your hand    to the skies    apologize    nearer to your courtesies than this sufferer polite    dressed to meet you    see    in white! 389 there's been a death, in the opposite house, as lately as today    i know it, by the numb look such houses have    alway    the neighbors rustle in and out    the doctor    drives away    a window opens like a pod    abrupt    mechanically    somebody flings a mattress out    the children hurry by    they wonder if it died    on that    i used to    when a boy    the minister    goes stiffly in    as if the house were his    and he owned all the mourners    now    and little boys    besides    and then the milliner    and the man of the appalling trade    to take the measure of the house    there'll be that dark parade    of tassels    and of coaches    soon    it's easy as a sign    the intuition of the news    in just a country town    390 it's coming    the postponeless creature    it gains the block    and now    it gains the door    chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings    enters    with a "you know me    sir"? simple salute    and certain recognition    bold    were it enemy    brief    were it friend    dresses each house in crape, and icicle    and carries one    out of it    to god    391 a visitor in marl    who influences flowers    till they are orderly as busts    and elegant    as glass    who visits in the night    and just before the sun    concludes his glistening interview    caresses    and is gone    but whom his fingers touched    and where his feet have run    and whatsoever mouth be kissed    is as it had not been    392 through the dark sod    as education    the lily passes sure    feels her white foot    no trepidation    her faith    no fear    afterward    in the meadow    swinging her beryl bell    the mold life    all forgotten    now    in ecstasy    and dell    393 did our best moment last    'twould supersede the heaven    a few    and they by risk    procure    so this sort    are not given    except as stimulants    in cases of despair    or stupor    the reserve    these heavenly moments are    a grant of the divine    that certain as it comes    withdraws    and leaves the dazzled soul in her unfurnished rooms 394 'twas love    not me    oh punish    pray    the real one died for thee    just him    not me    such guilt    to love thee    most! doom it beyond the rest    forgive it    last    'twas base as jesus    most! let justice not mistake    we two    looked so alike    which was the guilty sake    'twas love's    now strike! 395 reverse cannot befall that fine prosperity whose sources are interior    as soon    adversity a diamond    overtake in far    bolivian ground    misfortune hath no implement could mar it    if it found    396 there is a languor of the life more imminent than pain    'tis pain's successor    when the soul has suffered all it can    a drowsiness    diffuses    a dimness like a fog envelops consciousness    as mists    obliterate a crag. the surgeon    does not blanch    at pain his habit    is severe    but tell him that it ceased to feel    the creature lying there    and he will tell you    skill is late    a mightier than he    has ministered before him    there's no vitality. 397 when diamonds are a legend, and diadems    a tale    i brooch and earrings for myself, do sow, and raise for sale    and tho' i'm scarce accounted, my art, a summer day    had patrons    once    it was a queen    and once    a butterfly    398 i had not minded    walls    were universe    one rock    and fr i heard his silver call the other side the block    i'd tunnel    till my groove pushed sudden thro' to his    then my face take her recompense    the looking in his eyes    but 'tis a single hair    a filament    a law    a cobweb    wove in adamant    a battlement    of straw    a limit like the veil unto the lady's face    but every mesh    a citadel    and dragons    in the crease    399 a house upon the height    that wagon never reached    no dead, were ever carried down    no peddler's cart    approached    whose chimney never smoked    whose windows    night and morn    caught sunrise first    and sunset    last    then    held an empty pane    whose fate    conjecture knew    no other neighbor    did    and what it was    we never lisped    because he    never told    400 a tongue    to tell him i am true! its fee    to be of gold    had nature    in her monstrous house a single ragged child    to earn a mine    would run that interdicted way, and tell him    charge thee speak it plain    that so far    truth is true? and answer what i do    beginning with the day that night    begun    nay    midnight    'twas    since midnight    happened    say    if once more    pardon    boy    the magnitude thou may enlarge my message    if too vast another lad    help thee    thy pay    in diamonds    be    and his    in solid gold    say rubies    if he hesitate    my message    must be told    say    last i said    was this    that when the hills    come down    and hold no higher than the plain    my bond    have just begun    and when the heavens    disband    and deity conclude    then    look for me. be sure you say    least figure    on the road    401 what soft    cherubic creatures    these gentlewomen are    one would as soon assault a plush    or violate a star    such dimity convictions    a horror so refined of freckled human nature    of deity    ashamed    it's such a common    glory    a fisherman's    degree    redemption    brittle lady    be so    ashamed of thee    402 i pay    in satin cash    you did not state    your price    a petal, for a paragraph it near as i can guess    403 the winters are so short    i'm hardly justified in sending all the birds away    and moving into pod    myself    for scarcely settled    the phoebes have begun    and then    it's time to strike my tent    and open house    again    it's mostly, interruptions    my summer    is despoiled    because there was a winter    once    and al the cattle    starved    and so there was a deluge    and swept the world away    but ararat's a legend    now    and no one credits noah    404 how many flowers fail in wood    or perish from the hill    without the privilege to know that they are beautiful    how many cast a nameless pod upon the nearest breeze    unconscious of the scarlet freight    it bear to other eyes    405 it might be lonelier without the loneliness    i'm so accustomed to my fate    perhaps the other    peace    would interrupt the dark    and crowd the little room    too scant    by cubits    to contain the sacrament    of him    i am not used to hope    it might intrude upon    its sweet parade    blaspheme the place    ordained to suffering    it might be easier to fail    with land in sight    than gain    my blue peninsula    to perish    of delight    406 some    work for immortality    the chiefer part, for time    he    compensates    immediately    the former    checks    on fame    slow gold    but everlasting    the bullion of today    contrasted with the currency of immortality    a beggar    here and there    is gifted to discern beyond the broker's insight    one's    money    one's    the mine   407 if what we could    were what we would    criterion    be small    it is the ultimate of talk    the impotence to tell    408 unit, like death, for whom? true, like the tomb, who tells no secret told to him    the grave is strict    tickets admit just two    the bearer    and the borne    and seat    just one    the living    tell    the dying    but a syllable    the coy dead    none    no chatter    here    no tea    so babbler, and bohea    stay there    but gravity    and expectation    and fear    a tremor just, that all's not sure. 409 they dropped like flakes    they dropped like stars    like petals from a rose    when suddenly across the june a wind with fingers    goes    they perished in the seamless grass    no eye could find the place    but god can summon every face of his repealless    list. 410 the first day's night had come    and grateful that a thing so terrible    had been endured    i told my soul to sing    she said her strings were snapt    her bow    to atoms blown    and so to mend her    gave me work until another morn    and then    a day as huge as yesterdays in pairs, unrolled its horror in my face    until it blocked my eyes    my brain    begun to laugh    i mumbled    like a fool    and tho' 'tis years ago    that day    my brain keeps giggling    still. and something's odd    within    that person that i was    and this one    do not feel the same    could it be madness    this? 411 the color of the grave is green    the outer grave    i mean    you would not know it from the field    except it own a stone    to help the fond    to find it    too infinite asleep to stop and tell them where it is    but just a daisy    deep    the color of the grave is white    the outer grave    i mean    you would not know it from the drifts    in winter    till the sun    has furrowed out the aisles    then    higher than the land the little dwelling houses rise where each    has left a friend    the color of the grave within    the duplicate    i mean    not all the snows could make it white    not all the summers    green    you've seen the color    maybe    upon a bonnet bound    when that you met it with before    the ferret    cannot find    412 i read my sentence    steadily    reviewed it with my eyes, to see that i made no mistake in its extremest clause    the date, and manner, of the shame    and then the pious form that "god have mercy" on the soul the jury voted him    i made my soul familiar    with her extremity    that at the last, it should not be a novel agony    but she, and death, acquainted    meet tranquilly, as friends    salute, and pass, without a hint    and there, the matter ends    413 i never felt at home    below     and in the handsome skies i shall not feel at home    i know    i don't like paradise    because it's sunday    all the time    and recess    never comes    and eden'll be so lonesome bright wednesday afternoons    if god could make a visit    or ever took a nap    so not to see us    but they say himself    a telescope perennial beholds us    myself would run away from him    and holy ghost    and all    but there's the "judgement day"! 414 'twas like a maelstrom, with a notch, that nearer, every day, kept narrowing its boiling wheel until the agony toyed coolly with the final inch of your delirious hem    and you dropt, lost, when something broke    and let you from a dream    as if a goblin with a gauge    kept measuring the hours    until you felt your second weigh, helpless, in his paws    and not a sinew    stirred    could help, and sense was setting numb    when god    remembered    and the fiend let go, then, overcome    as if your sentence stood    pronounced    and you were frozen led from dungeon's luxury of doubt to gibbets, and the dead    and when the film had stitched your eyes a creature gasped "reprieve"! which anguish was the utterest    then    to perish, or to live? 415 sunset at night    is natural    but sunset on the dawn reverses nature    master    so midnight's    due    at noon. eclipses be    predicted    and science bows them in    but do one face us suddenly    jehovah's watch    is wrong. 416 a murmur in the trees    to note    not loud enough    for wind    a star    not far enough to seek    nor near enough    to find    a long    long yellow    on the lawn    a hubbub    as of feet    not audible    as ours    to us    but dapperer    more sweet    a hurrying home of little men to houses unperceived    all this    and more    if i should tell    would never be believed    of robins in the trundle bed how many i espy whose nightgowns could not hide the wings    although i heard them try    but then i promised ne'er to tell    how could i break my word? so go your way    and i'll go mine    no fear you'll miss the road. 417 is it dead    find it    out of sound    out of sight    "happy"? which is wiser    you, or the wind? "conscious"? won't you ask that    of the low ground? "homesick"? many met it    even through them    this cannot testify    themself    as dumb    418 not in this world to see his face    sounds long    until i read the place where this    is said to be but just the primer    to a life    unopened    rare    upon the shelf    clasped yet    to him    and me    and yet    my primer suits me so i would not choose    a book to know than that    be sweeter wise    might some one else    so learned    be    and leave me    just my a    b    c    himself    could have the skies    419 we grow accustomed to the dark    when light is put away    as when the neighbor holds the lamp to witness her goodbye    a moment    we uncertain step for newness of the night    then    fit our vision to the dark    and meet the road    erect    and so of larger    darkness    those evenings of the brain    when not a moon disclose a sign    or star    come out    within    the bravest    grope a little    and sometimes hit a tree directly in the forehead    but as they learn to see    either the darkness alters    or something in the sight adjusts itself to midnight    and life steps almost straight. 420 you'll know it    as you know 'tis noon    by glory    as you do the sun    by glory    as you will in heaven    know god the father    and the son. by intuition, mightiest things assert themselves    and not by terms    "i'm midnight"    need the midnight say    "i'm sunrise"    need the majesty? omnipotence    had not a tongue    his listp    is lightning    and the sun    his conversation    with the sea    "how shall you know"? consult your eye! 421 a charm invests a face imperfectly beheld    the lady date not lift her veil for fear it be dispelled    but peers beyond her mesh    and wishes    and denies    lest interview    annul a want that image    satisfies    422 more life    went out    when he went than ordinary breath    lit with a finer phosphor    requiring in the quench    a power of renowned cold, the climate of the grave a temperature just adequate so anthracite, to live    for some    an ampler zero    a frost more needle keen is necessary, to reduce the ethiop within. others    extinguish easier    a gnat's minutest fan sufficient to obliterate a tract of citizen    whose peat lift    amply vivid    ignores the solemn news that popocatapel exists    or etna's scarlets, choose    423 the months have ends    the years    a knot    no power can untie to stretch a little further a skein of misery    the earth lays back these tired lives in her mysterious drawers    too tenderly, that any doubt an ultimate repose    the manner of the children    who weary of the day    themself    the noisy plaything they cannot put away    424 removed from accident of loss by accident of gain befalling not my simple days    myself had just to earn    of riches    as unconscious as is the brown malay of pearls in eastern waters, marked his    what holiday would stir his slow conception    had he the power to dream that put the dower's fraction    awaited even    him    425 good morning    midnight    i'm coming home    day    got tired of me    how could i    of him? sunshine was a sweet place    i liked to stay    but morn    didn't want me    now    so    goodnight    day! i can look    can't i    when the east is red? the hills    have a way    then    that puts the heart    abroad    you    are not so fair    midnight    i chose    day    but    please take a little girl    he turned away! 426 it don't sound so terrible    quite    as it did    i run it over    "dead", brain, "dead." put it in latin    left of my school    seems it don't shriek so    under rule. turn it, a little    full in the face a trouble looks bitterest    shift it    just    say "when tomorrow comes this way    i shall have waded down one day." i suppose it will interrupt me some till i get accustomed    but then the tomb like other new things    shows largest    then    and smaller, by habit    it's shrewder then put the thought in advance    a year    how like "a fit"    then    murder    wear! 427 i'll clutch    and clutch    next    one    might be the golden touch    could take it    diamonds    wait    i'm diving    just a little late    but stars    go slow    for night    i'll string you    in fine necklace    tiaras    make    of some    wear you on hem    loop up a countess    with you    make    a diadem    and mend my old one    count    hoard    then lose    and doubt that you are mine    to have the joy of feeling it    again    i'll show you at the court    bear you    for ornament where women breathe    that every sigh    may lift you just as high    as i    and    when i die    in meek array    display you    still to show    how rich i go    lest skies impeach a wealth so wonderful    and banish me    428 taking up the fair ideal, just to cast her down when a fracture    we discover    or a splintered crown    makes the heavens portable    and the gods    a lie    doubtless    "adam"    scowled at eden    for his perjury! cherishing    our pool ideal    till in purer dress    we behold her    glorified    comforts    search    like this    till the broken creatures    we adored    for whole    stains    all washed    transfigured    mended    meet us    with a smile    429 the moon is distant from the sea    and yet, with amber hands    she leads him    docile as a boy    along appointed sands    he never misses a degree    obedient to her eye he comes just so far    toward the town    just so far    goes away    oh, signor, thine, the amber hand    and mine    the distant sea    obedient to the least command thine eye impose on me    430 it would never be common    more    i said    difference    had begun    many a bitterness    had been    but that old sort    was done    or    if it sometime    showed    as 'twill    upon the downiest    morn    such bliss    had i    for all the years    'twould give an easier    pain    i'd so much joy    i told it    red    upon my simple cheek    i felt it publish    in my eye    'twas needless    any speak    i walked    as wings    my body bore    the feet    i former used    unnecessary    now to me    as boots    would be    to birds    i put my pleasure all abroad    i dealth a word of gold to every creature    that i met    and dowered    all the world    when    suddenly    my riches shrank    a goblin    drank my dew    my palaces    dropped tenantless    myself    was beggared    too    i clutched at sounds    i groped at shapes    i touched the tops of films    i felt the wilderness roll back along my golden lines    the sackcloth    hangs upon the nail    the frock i used to wear    but where my moment of brocade    my    drop    of india? 431 me    come! my dazzled face in such a shining place! me    hear! my foreign ear the sounds of welcome    there! the saints forget our bashful feet    my holiday, shall be that they    remember me    my paradise    the fame that they    pronounce my name    432 do people moulder equally, they bury, in the grave? i do believe a species as positively live as i, who testify it deny that i    am dead    and fill my lungs, for witness    from tanks    above my head    i say to you, said jesus    that there be standing here    a sort, that shall not taste of death    if jesus was sincere    i need no further argue    that statement of the lord is not a controvertible    he told me, death was dead    433 knows how to forget! but could it teach it? easiest of arts, they say when one learn how dull hearts have died in the acquisition sacrificed for science is common, though, now    i went to school but was not wiser globe did not teach it nor logarithm show "how to forget"! say    some    philosopher! ah, to be erudite enough to know! is it in a book? so, i could buy it    is it like a planet? telescopes would know    if it be invention it must have a patent. rabbi of the wise book don't you know? 434 to love thee year by year    may less appear than sacrifice, and cease    however, dear, forever might be short, i thought to show    and so i pieced it, with a flower, now. 435 much madness is divinest sense    to a discerning eye    much sense    the starkest madness    'tis the majority in this, as all, prevail    assent    and you are sane    demur    you're straightway dangerous    and handled with a chain    436 the wind    tapped like a tired man    and like a host    "come in" i boldly answered    entered then my residence within a rapid    footless guest    to offer whom a chair were as impossible as hand a sofa to the air    no bone had he to bind him    his speech was like the push of numerous humming birds at once from a superior bush    his countenance    a billow    his fingers, as he passed let go a music    as of tunes blown tremulous in glass    he visited    still flitting    then like a timid man again, he tapped    'twas flurriedly    and i became alone    437 prayer is the little implement through which men reach where presence    is denied them. they fling their speech by means of it    in god's ear    if then he hear    this sums the apparatus comprised in prayer    438 forget! the lady with the amulet forget she wore it at her heart because she breathed against was treason twixt? deny! did rose her bee    for privilege of play or wile of butterfly or opportunity    her lord away? the lady with the amulet    will face    the bee    in mausoleum laid    discard his bride    but longer than the little rill    that cooled the forehead of the hill    while other    went the sea to fill    and other    went to turn the mill    i'll do thy will    439 undue significance a starving man attaches to food    far off    he sighs    and therefore    hopeless    and therefore    good    partaken    it relieves    indeed    but proves us that spices fly in the receipt    it was the distance    was savory    440 'tis customary as we part a trinket    to confer    it helps to stimulate the faith when lovers be afar    'tis various    as the various taste    clematis    journeying far    presents me with a single curl of her electric hair    441 this is my letter to the world that never wrote to me    the simple news that nature told    with tender majesty her message is committed to hands i cannot see    for love of her    sweet    countrymen    judge tenderly    of me 442 god made a little gentian    it tried    to be a rose    and failed    and all the summer laughed    but just before the snows there rose a purple creature    that ravished all the hill    and summer hid her forehead    and mockery    was still    the frosts were her condition    the tyrian would not come until the north    invoke it    creator    shall i    bloom? 443 i tie my hat    i crease my shawl    life's little duties do    precisely    as the very least were infinite    to me    i put new blossoms in the glass    and throw the old    away    i push a petal from my gown that anchored there    i weigh the time 'twill be till six o'clock i have so much to do    and yet    existence    some way back    stopped    struck    my tickling    through    we cannot put ourself away as a completed man or woman    when the errand's done we came to flesh    upon    there may be    miles on miles of nought    of action    sicker far    to simulate    is stinging work    to cover what we are from science    and from surgery    too telescopic eyes to bear on us unshaded    for their    sake    not for ours    'twould start them    we    could tremble    but since we got a bomb    and held it in our bosom    nay    hold it    it is calm    therefore    we do life's labor    though life's reward    be done    with scrupulous exactness    to hold our senses    on    444 it feels a shame to be alive    when men so brave    are dead    one envies the distinguished dust    permitted    such a head    the stone    that tells defending whom this spartan put away what little of him we    possessed in pawn for liberty    the price is great    sublimely paid    do we deserve    a thing    that lives    like dollars    must be piled before we may obtain? are we that wait    sufficient worth    that such enormous pearl as life    dissolved be    for us    in battle's    horrid bowl? it may be    a renown to live    i think the man who die    those unsustained    saviors    present divinity    445 'twas just this time, last year, i died. i know i heard the corn, when i was carried by the farms    it had the tassels on    i thought how yellow it would look    when richard went to mill    and then, i wanted to get out, but something held my will. i thought just how red    apples wedged the stubble's joints between    and the carts stooping round the fields to take the pumpkins in    i wondered which would miss me, least, and when thanksgiving, came, if father'd multiply the plates    to make an even sum    and would it blur the christmas glee my stocking hang too high for any santa claus to reach the altitude of me    but this sort, grieved myself, and so, i thought the other way, how just this time, some perfect year    themself, should come to me    446 i showed her heights she never saw    "would'st climb," i said? she said    "not so"    "with me   " i said    with me? i showed her secrets    morning's nest    the rope the nights were put across    and now    "would'st have me for a guest?" she could not find her yes    and then, i brake my life    and lo, a light, for her, did solemn glow, the larger, as her face withdrew    and could she, further, "no"? 447 could    i do more    for thee    wert thou a bumble bee    since for the queen, have i    nought but bouquet? 448 this was a poet    it is that distills amazing sense from ordinary meanings    and attar so immense from the familiar species that perished by the door    we wonder it was not ourselves arrested it    before    of pictures, the discloser    the poet    it is he    entitles us    by contrast    to ceaseless poverty    of portion    so unconscious    the robbing    could not harm    himself    to him    a fortune    exterior    to time    449 i died for beauty    but was scarce adjusted in the tomb when one who died for truth, was lain in an adjoining room    he questioned softly "why i failed"? "for beauty", i replied    "and i    for truth    themself are one    we brethren, are", he said    and so, as kinsmen, met a night    we talked between the rooms    until the moss had reached our lips    and covered up    our names    450 dreams    are well    but waking's better, if one wake at morn    if one wake at midnight    better    dreaming    of the dawn    sweeter    the surmising robins    never gladdened tree    than a solid dawn    confronting    leading to no day    451 the outer    from the inner derives its magnitude    'tis duke, or dwarf, according as is the central mood    the fine    unvarying axis that regulates the wheel    though spokes    spin    more conspicuous and fling a dust    the while. the inner    paints the outer    the brush without the hand    its picture publishes    precise    as is the inner brand    on fine    arterial canvas    a cheek    perchance a brow    the star's whole secret    in the lake    eyes were not meant to know. 452 the malay    took the pearl    not    i    the earl    i    feared the sea    too much unsanctified    to touch    praying that i might be worthy    the destiny    the swarthy fellow swam    and bore my jewel    home    home to the hut! what lot had i    the jewel    got    borne on a dusky breasty    i had not deemed a vest of amber    fit    the negro never knew i    wooed it    too    to gain, or be undone    alike to him    one    453 love    thou art high    i cannot climb thee    but, were it two    who know but we    taking turns    at the chimborazo    ducal    at last    stand up by thee    love    thou are deep    i cannot cross thee    but, were there two instead of one    rower, and yacht    some sovereign summer    who knows    but we'd reach the sun? love    thou are veiled    a few    behold thee    smile    and alter    and prattle    and die    bliss    were an oddity    without thee    nicknamed by god    eternity    454 it was given to me by the gods    when i was a little girl    they given us presents most    you know    when we are new    and small. i kept it in my hand    i never put it down    i did not dare to eat    or sleep    for fear it would be gone    i heard such words as "rich"    when hurrying to school    from lips at corners of the streets    and wrestled with a smile. rich! 'twas myself    was rich    to take the name of gold    and gold to own    in solid bars    the difference    made me bold    455 triumph    may be of several kinds    there's triumph in the room when that old imperator    death    by faith 456 so well that i can live without    i love thee    then how well is that? as well as jesus? prove it me that he    loved men    as i    love thee    457 sweet    safe    houses    glad    gay    houses    sealed so stately tight    lids of steel    on lids of marble    locking bare feet out    brooks of plush    in banks of satin not so softly fall as the laughter    and the whisper    from their people pearl    no bald death    affront their parlors    no bold sickness come to deface their stately treasures    anguish    and the tomb    hum by    in muffled coaches    lest they    wonder why    any    for the press of smiling    interrupt    to die    458 like eyes that looked on wastes    incredulous of ought but blank    and steady wilderness    diversified by night    just infinites of nought    as far as it could see    so looked the face i looked upon    so looked itself    on me    i offered it no help    because the cause was mine    the misery a compact as hopeless    as divine    neither    would be absolved    neither would be a queen without the other    therefore    we perish    tho' we reign    459 a tooth upon our peace the peace cannot deface    then wherefore be the tooth? to vitalize the grace    the heaven hath a hell    itself to signalize    and every sign before the place is gilt with sacrifice    460 i know where wells grow    droughtless wells    deep dug    for summer days    where mosses go no more away    and pebble    safely plays    it's made of fathoms    and a belt    a belt of jagged stone    inlaid with emerald    half way down    and diamonds    jumbled on    it has no bucket    were i rich a bucket i would buy    i'm often thirsty    but my lips are so high up    you see    i read in an old fashioned book that people "thirst no more"    the wells have buckets to them there    it must mean that    i'm sure    shall we remember parching    then? those waters sound so grand    i think a little well    like mine    dearer to understand    461 a wife    at daybreak i shall be    sunrise    hast thou a flag for me? at midnight, i am but a maid, how short it takes to make a bride    then    midnight, i have passed from thee unto the east, and victory    midnight    good night! i hear them call, the angels bustle in the hall    softly my future climbs the stair, i fumble at my childhood's prayer so soon to be a child no more    eternity, i'm coming    sire, savior    i've seen the face    before! 462 why make it doubt    it hurts it so    so sick    to guess    so strong    to know    so brave    upon its little bed to tell the very last they said unto itself    and smile    and shake    for that dear    distant    dangerous    sake    but    the instead    the pinching fear that something    it did do    or dare    offend the vision    and it flee    and they no more remember me    nor ever turn to tell me why    oh, master, this is misery    463 i live with him    i see his face    i go no more away for visitor    or sundown    death's single privacy the only one    forestalling mine    and that    by right that he presents a claim invisible    no wedlock    granted me    i live with him    i hear his voice    i stand alive    today    to witness to the certainty of immortality    taught me    by time    the lower way    conviction    every day    that life like this    is stopless    be judgment    what it may    464 the power to be true to you, until upon my face the judgment push his picture    presumptuous of your place    of this    could man deprive me    himself    the heaven excel    whose invitation    yours reduced until it showed too small    465 i heard a fly buzz    when i died    the stillness in the room was like the stillness in the air    between the heaves of storm    the eyes around    had wrung them dry    and breaths were gathering firm for that last onset    when the king be witnessed    in the room    i willed my keepsakes    signed away what portion of me be assignable    and then it was there interposed a fly    with blue    uncertain stumbling buzz    between the light    and me    and then the windows failed    and then i could not see to see    466 'tis little i    could care for pearls    who own the ample sea    or brooches    when the emperor    with rubies    pelteth me    or gold    who am the prince of mines    or diamonds    when have i a diadem to fit a dom    continual upon me    467 we do not play on graves    because there isn't room    besides    it isn't even    it slants and people come    and put a flower on it    and hang their faces so    we're fearing that their hearts will drop    and crush our pretty play    and so we move as far as enemies    away    just looking round to see how far it is    occasionally    468 the manner of its death when certain it must die    'tis deemed a privilege to choose    'twas major andre's way    when choice of life    is past    there yet remains a love its little fate to stipulate    how small in those who live    the miracle to tease with bable of the styles    how "they are dying mostly    now"    and customs at "st. james"! 469 the red    blaze    is the morning    the violet    is noon    the yellow    day    is falling    and after that    is none    but miles of sparks    at evening    reveal the width that burned    the territory argent    that never yet    consumed    470 i am alive    i guess    the branches on my hand are full of morning glory    and at my finger's end    the carmine    tingles warm    and if i hold a glass across my mouth    it blurs it    physician's    proof of breath    i am alive    because i am not in a room    the parlor    commonly    it is    so visitors may come    and lean    and view it sidewise    and add "how cold    it grew"    and "was it conscious    when it stepped in immortality?" i am alive    because i do not own a house    entitled to myself    precise    and fitting no one else    and marked my girlhood's name    so visitors may know which door is mine    and not 471 a night    there lay the days between    the day that was before    and day that was behind    were one    and now    'twas night    was here    slow    night    that must be watched away    as grains upon a shore    too imperceptible to note    till it be night    no more    472 except the heaven had come so near    so seemed to choose my door    the distance would not haunt me so    i had not hoped    before    but just to hear the grace depart    i never thought to see    afflicts me with a double loss    'tis lost    and lost to me    473 i am ashamed    i hide    what right have i    to be a bride    so late a dowerless girl    nowhere to hide my dazzled face    no one to teach me that new grace    nor introduce    my soul    me to adorn    how    tell    trinket    to make me beautiful    fabrics of cashmere    never a gown of dun    more    raiment instead    of pompadour    for me    my soul    to wear    fingers    to frame my round hair oval    as feudal ladies wore    far fashions    fair    skill to hold my brow like an earl    plead    like a whippoorwill    prove    like a pearl    then, for character    fashion my spirit quaint    white    quick    like a liquor    gay    like light    bring me my best pride    no more ashamed    no more to hide    meek    let it be    too proud    for pride    baptized    this day    a bride    474 they put us far apart    as separate as sea and her unsown peninsula    we signified "these see"    they took away our eyes    they thwarted us with guns    "i see thee" each responded straight through telegraphic signs    with dungeons    they devised    but through their thickest skill    and their opaquest adamant    our souls saw    just as well    they summoned us to die    with sweet alacrity we stood upon our stapled feet    condemned    but just    to see    permission to recant    permission to forget    we turned our backs upon the sun for perjury of that    not either    noticed death    of paradise    aware    each other's face    was all the disc each other's setting    saw    475 doom is the house without the door    'tis entered from the sun    and then the ladder's thrown away, because escape    is done    'tis varied by the dream of what they do outside    where squirrels play    and berries die    and hemlocks    bow    to god    476 i meant to have but modest needs    such as content    and heaven    within my income    these could lie and life and i    keep even    but since the last    included both    it would suffice my prayer but just for one    to stipulate    and grace would grant the pair    and so    upon this wise    i prayed    great spirit    give to me a heaven not so large as yours, but large enough    for me    a smile suffused jehovah's face    the cherubim    withdrew    grave saints stole out to look at me    and showed their dimples    too    i left the place, with all my might    i threw my prayer away    the quiet ages picked it up    and judgment    twinkled    too    tat one so honest    be extant    it take the tale for true    that "whatsoever ye shall ask    itself be given you"    but i, grown shrewder    scan the skies with a suspicious air    as children    swindled for the first all swindlers    be    infer    477 no man can compass a despair    as round a goalless road no faster than a mile at once the traveller proceed    unconscious of the width    unconscious that the sun be setting on his progress    so accurate the one at estimating pain    whose own    has just begun    his ignorance    the angel that pilot him along    478 i had no time to hate    because the grave would hinder me    and life was not so ample i could finish    enmity    nor had i time to love    but since some industry must be    the little toil of love    i thought be large enough for me    479 she dealt her pretty words like blades    how glittering they shone    and every one unbared a nerve or wantoned with a bone    she never deemed    she hurt    that    is not steel's affair    a vulgar grimace in the flesh    how ill the creatures bear    to ache is human    not polite    the film upon the eye mortality's old custom    just locking up    to die. 480 "why do i love" you, sir? because    the wind does not require the grass to answer    wherefore when he pass she cannot keep her place. because he knows    and do not you    and we know not    enough for us the wisdom it be so    the lightning    never asked an eye wherefore it shut    when he was by    because he knows it cannot speak    and reasons not contained       of talk    there be    preferred by daintier folk    the sunrise    sire    compelleth me    because he's sunrise    and i see    therefore    then    i love thee    481 the himmaleh was known to stoop unto the daisy low    transported with compassion that such a doll should grow where tent by tent    her universe hung out its flags of snow    482 we cover thee    sweet face    not that we tire of thee    but that thyself fatigue of us    remember    as thou go    we follow thee until thou notice us    no more    and then    reluctant    turn away to con thee o'er and o'er    and blame the scanty love we were content to show    augmented    sweet    a hundred fold    if thou would'st take it    now    483 a solemn thing within the soul to feel itself get ripe    and golden hang    while farther up    the maker's ladders stop    and in the orchard far below    you hear a being    drop    a wonderful    to feel the sun still toiling at the cheek you thought was finished    cool of eye, and critical of work    he shifts the stem    a little    to give your core    a look    but solemnest    to know your chance in harvest moves a little nearer    every sun the single    to some lives. 484 my garden    like the beach    denotes there be    a sea    that's summer    such as these    the pearls she fetches    such as me 485 to make one's toilette    after death has made the toilette cool of only taste we cared to please is difficult, and still    that's easier    than braid the hair    and make the bodice gay    when eyes that fondled it are wrenched by decalogues    away    486 i was the slightest in the house    i took the smallest room    at night, my little lamp, and book    and one geranium    so stationed i could catch the mint that never ceased to fall    and just my basket    let me think    i'm sure    that this was all    i never spoke    unless addressed    and then, 'twas brief and low    i could not bear to live    aloud    the racket shamed me so    and if it had not been so far    and any one i knew were going    i had often thought how noteless    i could die    487 you love the lord    you cannot see    you write him    every day    a little note    when you awake    and further in the day. an ample letter    how you miss    and would delight to see    but then his house    is but a step    and mine's    in heaven    you see. 488 myself was formed    a carpenter    an unpretending time my plane    and i, together wrought before a builder came    to measure our attainments    had we the art of boards sufficiently developed    he'd hire us at halves    my tools took human    faces    the bench, where we had toiled    against the man    persuaded    we    temples build    i said    489 we pray    to heaven    we prate    of heaven    relate    when neighbors die    at what o'clock to heaven    they fled    who saw them    wherefore fly? is heaven a place    a sky    a tree? location's narrow way is for ourselves    unto the dead there's no geography    but state    endowal    focus    where    omnipresence    fly? 490 to one denied the drink to tell what water is would be acuter, would it not than letting him surmise? to lead him to the well and let him hear it drip remind him, would it not, somewhat of his condemned lip? 491 while it is alive until death touches it while it and i lap one air dwell in one blood under one sacrament show me division can split or pare    love is like life    merely longer love is like death, during the grave love is the fellow of the resurrection scooping up the dust and chanting "live"! 492 civilization    spurns    the leopard! was the leopard    bold? deserts    never rebuked her satin    ethiop    her gold    tawny    her customs    she was conscious    spotted    her dun gown    this was the leopard's nature    signor    need    a keeper    frown? pity    the pard    that left her asia    memories    of palm    cannot be stifled    with narcotic    nor suppressed    with balm    493 the world    stands    solemner    to me    since i was wed    to him    a modesty befits the soul that bears another's    name    a doubt    if it be fair    indeed    to wear that perfect    pearl    the man    upon the woman    binds    to clasp her soul    for all    a prayer, that it more angel    prove    a whiter gift    within    to that munificence, that chose    so unadorned    a queen    a gratitude    that such be true    it had esteemed the dream    too beautiful    for shape to prove    or posture    to redeem! 494 going to him! happy letter! tell him    tell him the page i didn't write    tell him    i only said the syntax    and left the verb and the pronoun out    tell him just how the fingers hurried    then    how they waded    slow    slow    and then you wished you had eyes in your pages    so you could see what moved them so    tell him    it wasn't a practised writer    you guessed    from the way the sentence toiled    you could hear the bodice tug, behind you    as if it held but the might of a child    you almost pitied it    you    it worked so    tell him    no    you may quibble there    for it would split his heart, to know it    and then you and i, were silenter. tell him    night finished    before we finished    and the old clock kept neighing "day"! and you    got sleepy    and begged to be ended    what could it hinder so    to say? tell him    just how she sealed you    cautious! but    if he ask where you are hid until tomorrow    happy letter! gesture coquette    and shake your head! 495 it's thoughts    and just one heart    and old sunshine    about    make frugal    ones    content    and two or three    for company    upon a holiday    crowded    as sacrament    books    when the unit    spare the tenant    long eno'    a picture    if it care    itself    a gallery too rare    for needing more    flowers    to keep the eyes    from going awkward    when it snows    a bird    if they    prefer    though winter fire    sing clear as plover    to our    ear    a landscape    not so great to suffocate the eye    a hill    perhaps    perhaps    the profile of a mill turned by the wind    tho' such    are luxuries    it's thoughts    and just two heart    and heaven    about    at least    a counterfeit    we would not have correct    and immortality    can be almost    not quite    content    496 as far from pity, as complaint    as cool to speech    as stone    as numb to revelation as if my trade were bone    as far from time    as history    as near yourself    today    as children, to the rainbow's scarf    or sunset's yellow play to eyelids in the sepulchre    how dumb the dancer lies    while color's revelations break    and blaze    the butterflies! 497 he strained my faith    did he find it supple? shook my strong trust    did it then    yield? hurled my belief    but    did he shatter    it? racked    with suspense    not a nerve failed! wrung me    with anguish    but i never doubted him    'tho' for what wrong he did never say    stabbed    while i sued his sweet forgiveness    jesus    it's your little "john"! don't you know    me? 498 i envy seas, whereon he rides    i envy spokes of wheels of chariots, that him convey    i envy crooked hills that gaze upon his journey    how easy all can see what is forbidden utterly as heaven    unto me! i envy nests of sparrows    that dot his distant eaves    the wealthy fly, upon his pane    the happy    happy leaves    that just abroad his window have summer's leave to play    the ear rings of pizarro could not obtain for me    i envy light    that wakes him    and bells    that boldly ring to tell him it is noon, abroad    myself    be noon to him    yet interdict    my blossom    and abrogate    my bee    lest noon in everlasting night    drop gabriel    and me    499 those fair    fictitious people    the women    plucked away from our familiar lifetime    the men of ivory    those boys and girls, in canvas    who stay upon the wall in everlasting keepsake    can anybody tell? we trust    in places perfecter    inheriting delight beyond our faint conjecture    our dizzy estimate    remembering ourselves, we trust    yet blesseder    than we    through knowing    where we only hope    receiving    where we    pray    of expectation    also    anticipating us with transport, that would be a pain except for holiness    esteeming us    as exile    themself    admitted home    through easy miracle of death    the way ourself, must come    500 within my garden, rides a bird upon a single wheel    whose spokes a dizzy music make as 'twere a travelling mill    he never stops, but slackens above the ripest rose    partakes without alighting and praises as he goes, till every spice is tasted    and then his fairy gig reels in remoter atmospheres    and i rejoin my dog, and he and i, perplex us if positive, 'twere we    or bore the garden in the brain this curiosity    but he, the best logician, refers my clumsy eye    to just vibrating blossoms! an exquisite reply! 501 this world is not conclusion. a species stands beyond    invisible, as music    but positive, as sound    it beckons, and it baffles    philosophy    don't know    and through a riddle, at the last    sagacity, must go    to guess it, puzzles scholars    to gain it, men have borne contempt of generations and crucifixion, shown    faith slips    and laughs, and rallies    blushes, if any see    plucks at a twig of evidence    and asks a vane, the way    much gesture, from the pulpit    strong hallelujahs roll    narcotics cannot still the tooth that nibbles at the soul    502 at least    to pray    is left    is left    oh jesus    in the air    i know not which thy chamber is    i'm knocking    everywhere    thou settest earthquake in the south    and maelstrom, in the sea    say, jesus christ of nazareth    hast thou no arm for me? 503 better    than music! for i    who heard it    i was used    to the birds    before    this    was different    'twas translation    of all tunes i knew    and more    'twasn't contained    like other stanza    no one could play it    the second time    but the composer    perfect mozart    perish with him    that keyless rhyme! so    children    told how brooks in eden    bubbled a better    melody    quaintly infer    eve's great surrender    urging the feet    that would    not    fly    children    matured    are wiser    mostly    eden    a legend    dimly told    eve    and the anguish    grandame's story    but    i was telling a tune    i heard    not such a strain    the church    baptizes    when the last saint    goes up the aisles    not such a stanza splits the silence    when the redemption strikes her bells    let me not spill    its smallest cadence    humming    for promise    when alone    humming    until my faint rehearsal    drop into tune    around the throne    504 you know that portrait in the moon    so tell me who 'tis like    the very brow    the stooping eyes    a fog for    say    whose sake? the very pattern of the cheek    it varies    in the chin    but    ishmael    since we met    'tis long    and fashions    intervene    when moon's at full    'tis thou    i say    my lips just hold the name    when crescent    thou art worn    i note    but    there    the golden same    and when    some night    bold    slashing clouds cut thee away from me    that's easier    than the other film that glazes holiday    505 i would not paint    a picture    i'd rather be the one its bright impossibility to dwell    delicious    on    and wonder how the fingers feel whose rare    celestial    stir    evokes so sweet a torment    such sumptuous    despair    i would not talk, like cornets    i'd rather be the one raised softly to the ceilings    and out, and easy on    through villages of ether    myself endued balloon by but a lip of metal    the pier to my pontoon    nor would i be a poet    it's finer    own the ear    enamored    impotent    content    the license to revere, a privilege so awful what would the dower be, had i the art to stun myself with bolts of melody! 506 he touched me, so i live to know that such a day, permitted so, i groped upon his breast    it was a boundless place to me and silenced, as the awful sea puts minor streams to rest. and now, i'm different from before, as if i breathed superior air    or brushed a royal gown    my feet, too, that had wandered so    my gypsy face    transfigured now    to tenderer renown    into this port, if i might come, rebecca, to jerusalem, would not so ravished turn    nor persian, baffled at her shrine lift such a crucifixial sign to her imperial sun. 507 she sights a bird    she chuckles    she flattens    then she crawls    she runs without the look of feet    her eyes increase to balls    her jaws stir    twitching    hungry    her teeth can hardly stand    she leaps, but robin leaped the first    ah, pussy, of the sand, the hopes so juicy ripening    you almost bather your tongue    when bliss disclosed a hundred toes    and fled with every one    508 i'm ceded    i've stopped being theirs    the name they dropped upon my face with water, in the country church is finished using, now, and they can put it with my dolls, my childhood, and the string of spools, i've finished threading    too    baptized, before, without the choice, but this time, consciously, of grace    unto supremest name    called to my full    the crescent dropped    existence's whole arc, filled up, with one small diadem. my second rank    too small the first    crowned    crowing    on my father's breast    a half unconscious queen    but this time    adequate    erect, with will to choose, or to reject, and i choose, just a crown    509 if anybody's friend be dead it's sharpest of the theme the thinking how they walked alive    at such and such a time    their costume, of a sunday, some manner of the hair    a prank nobody knew but them lost, in the sepulchre    how warm, they were, on such a day, you almost feel the date    so short way off it seems    and now    they're centuries from that    how pleased they were, at what you said    you try to touch the smile and dip your fingers in the frost    when was it    can you tell    you asked the company to tea    acquaintance    just a few    and chatted close with this grand thing that don't remember you    past bows, and invitations    past interview, and vow    past what ourself can estimate    that    makes the quick of woe! 510 it was not death, for i stood up, and all the dead, lie down    it was not night, for all the bells put out their tongues, for noon. it was not frost, for on my flesh i felt siroccos    crawl    nor fire    for just my marble feet could keep a chancel, cool    and yet, it tasted, like them all, the figures i have seen set orderly, for burial, reminded me, of mine    as if my life were shaven, and fitted to a frame, and could not breathe without a key, and 'twas like midnight, some   when everything that ticked    has stopped    and space stares all around    or grisly frosts    first autumn morns, repeal the beating ground    but, most, like chaos   stopless    cool    without a change, or spar    or even a report of land    to justify    despair. 511 if you were coming in the fall, i'd brush the summer by with half a smile, and half a spurn, as housewives do, a fly. if i could see you in a year, i'd wind the months in balls    and put them each in separate drawers, for fear the numbers fuse    if only centuries, delayed, i'd count them on my hand, subtracting, till my fingers dropped into van dieman's land. if certain, when this life was out    that yours and mine, should be i'd toss it yonder, like a rind, and take eternity    but, now, uncertain of the length of this, that is between, it goads me, like the goblin bee    that will not state    its sting. 512 the soul has bandaged moments    when too appalled to stir    she feels some ghastly fright come up and stop to look at her    salute her    with long fingers    caress her freezing hair    sip, goblin, from the very lips the lover    hovered    o'er    unworthy, that a thought so mean accost a theme    so    fair    the soul has moments of escape    when bursting all the doors    she dances like a bomb, abroad, and swings upon the hours, as do the bee    delirious borne    long dungeoned from his rose    touch liberty    then know no more, but noon, and paradise    the soul's retaken moments    when, felon led along, with shackles on the plumed feet, and staples, in the song, the horror welcomes her, again, these, are not brayed of tongue    513 like flowers, that heard the news of dews, but never deemed the dripping prize awaited their    low brows    or bees    that thought the summer's name some rumor of delirium, no summer    could    for them    or arctic creatures, dimly stirred    by tropic hint    some travelled bird imported to the wood    or wind's bright signal to the ear    making that homely, and severe, contented, known, before    the heaven    unexpected come, to lives that thought the worshipping a too presumptuous psalm    514 her smile was shaped like other smiles    the dimples ran along    and still it hurt you, as some bird did hoist herself, to sing, then recollect a ball, she got    and hold upon the twig, convulsive, while the music broke    like beads    among the bog    515 no crowd that has occurred exhibit    i suppose that general attendance that resurrection    does    circumference be full    the long restricted grave assert her vital privilege    the dust    connect    and live    on atoms    features place    all multitudes that were efface in the comparison    as suns    dissolve a star    solemnity    prevail    its individual doom possess each separate consciousness    august    absorbed    numb    what duplicate    exist    what parallel can be    of the significance of this    to universe    and me? 516 beauty    be not caused    it is    chase it, and it ceases    chase it not, and it abides    overtake the creases in the meadow    when the wind runs his fingers thro' it    deity will see to it that you never do it    517 he parts himself    like leaves    and then    he closes up    then stands upon the bonnet of any buttercup    and then he runs against and oversets a rose    and then does nothing    then away upon a jib    he goes    and dangles like a mote suspended in the noon    uncertain    to return below    or settle in the moon    what come of him    at night    the privilege to say be limited by ignorance    what come of him    that day    the frost    possess the world    in cabinets    be shown    a sepulchre of quaintest floss    an abbey    a cocoon    518 her sweet weight on my heart a night had scarcely deigned to lie    when, stirring, for belief's delight, my bride had slipped away    if 'twas a dream    made solid    just the heaven to confirm    or if myself were dreamed of her    the power to presume    with him remain    who unto me    gave    even as to all    a fiction superseding faith    by so much    as 'twas real    519 'twas warm    at first    like us    until there crept upon a chill    like frost upon a glass    till all the scene    be gone. the forehead copied stone    the fingers grew too cold to ache    and like a skater's brook    the busy eyes    congealed    it straightened    that was all    it crowded cold to cold    it multiplied indifference    as pride were all it could    and even when with cords    'twas lowered, like a weight    it made no signal, nor demurred, but dropped like adamant. 520 i started early    took my dog    and visited the sea    the mermaids in the basement came out to look at me    and frigates    in the upper floor extended hempen hands    presuming me to be a mouse    aground    upon the sands    but no man moved me    till the tide went past my simple shoe    and past my apron    and my belt    and past my bodice    too    and made as he would eat me up    as wholly as a dew upon a dandelion's sleeve    and then    i started    too    and he    he followed    close behind    i felt his silver heel upon my ankle    then my shoes would overflow with pearl    until we met the solid town    no one he seemed to know    and bowing    with a might look    at me    the sea withdrew    521 endow the living    with the tears    you squander on the dead, and they were men and women    now, around your fireside    instead of passive creatures, denied the cherishing till they    the cherishing deny    with death's ethereal scron    522 had i presumed to hope    the loss had been to me a value    for the greatness' sake    as giants    gone away    had i presumed to gain a favor so remote    the failure but confirm the grace in further infinite    'tis failure    not of hope    but confident despair    advancing on celestial lists    with faint    terrestial power    'tis honor    though i die    for that no man obtain till he be justified by death    this    is the second gain    523 sweet    you forgot    but i remembered every time    for two    so that the sum be never hindered through decay of you    say if i erred? accuse my farthings    blame the little hand happy it be for you    a beggar's    seeking more    to spend    just to be rich    to waste my guineas on so best a heart    just to be poor    for barefoot vision you    sweet    shut me out    524 departed    to the judgment    a mighty afternoon    great clouds    like ushers    learning    creation    looking on    the flesh    surrendered    cancelled    the bodiless    begun    two worlds    like audiences    disperse    and leave the soul    alone    525 i think the hemlock likes to stand upon a marge of snow    it suits his own austerity    and satisfies an awe that men, must slake in wilderness    and in the desert    cloy    an instinct for the hoar, the bald    lapland's    necessity    the hemlock's nature thrives    on cold    the gnash of northern winds is sweetest nutriment    to him    his best norwegian wines    to satin races    he is nought    but children on the don, beneath his tabernacles, play, and dnieper wrestlers, run. 526 to hear an oriole sing may be a common thing    or only a divine. it is not of the bird who sings the same, unheard, as unto crowd    the fashion of the ear attireth that it hear in dun, or fair    so whether it be rune, or whether it be none is of within. the "tune is in the tree   " the skeptic    showeth me    "no sir! in thee!" 527 to put this world down, like a bundle    and walk steady, away, requires energy    possibly agony    'tis the scarlet way trodden with straight renunciation by the son of god    later, his faint confederates justify the road    flavors of that old crucifixion    filaments of bloom, pontius pilate sowed    strong clusters, from barabbas' tomb    sacrament, saints partook before us    patent, every drop, with the brand of the gentile drinker who indorsed the cup    528 mine    by the right of the white election! mine    by the royal seal! mine    by the sign in the scarlet prison    bars    cannot conceal! mine    here    in vision    and in veto! mine    by the grave's repeal    tilted    confirmed    delirious charter! mine    long as ages steal! 529 i'm sorry for the dead    today    it's such congenial times old neighbors have at fences    it's time o' year for hay. and broad    sunburned acquaintance discourse between the toil    and laugh, a homely species that makes the fences smile    it seems so straight to lie away from all of the noise of fields    the busy carts    the fragrant cocks    the mower's metre    steals    a trouble lest they're homesick    those farmers    and their wives    set separate from the farming    and all the neighbors' lives    a wonder if the sepulchre don't feel a lonesome way    when men    and boys    and carts    and june, go down the fields to "hay"    530 you cannot put a fire out    a thing that can ignite can go, itself, without a fan    upon the slowest night    you cannot fold a flood    and put it in a drawer    because the winds would find it out    and tell your cedar floor    531 we dream    it is good we are dreaming    it would hurt us    were we awake    but since it is playing    kill us, and we are playing    shriek    what harm? men die    externally    it is a truth    of blood    but we    are dying in drama    and drama    is never dead    cautious    we jar each other    and either    open the eyes    lest the phantasm    prove the mistake    and the livid surprise cool us to shafts of granite    with just an age    and name    and perhaps a phrase in egyptian    it's prudenter    to dream    532 i tried to think a lonelier thing than any i had seen    some polar expiation    an omen in the bone of death's tremendous nearness    i probed retrieverless things my duplicate    to borrow    a haggard comfort springs from the belief that somewhere    within the clutch of thought    there dwells one other creature of heavenly love    forgot    i plucked at our partition as one should pry the walls    between himself    and horror's twin    within opposing cells    i almost strove to clasp his hand, such luxury    it grew    that as myself    could pity him    perhaps he    pitied me    533 two butterflies went out at noon    and waltzed upon a farm    then stepped straight through the firmament and rested, on a beam    and then    together bore away upon a shining sea    though never yet, in any port    their coming, mentioned    be    if spoken by the distant bird    if met in ether sea by frigate, or by merchantman    no notice    was    to me    534 we see    comparatively    the thing so towering high we could not grasp its segment unaided    yesterday    this morning's finer verdict    makes scarcely worth the toil    a furrow    our cordillera    our apennine    a knoll    perhaps 'tis kindly    done us    the anguish    and the loss    the wrenching    for his firmament the thing belonged to us    to spare these striding spirits some morning of chagrin    the waking in a gnat's    embrace    our giants    further on    535 she's happy, with a new content    that feels to her    like sacrament    she's busy    with an altered care    as just apprenticed to the air    she's tearful    if she weep at all    for blissful causes    most of all that heaven permit so meek as her    to such a fate    to minister. 536 the heart asks pleasure    first    and then    excuse from pain    and then    those little anodyness that deaden suffering    and then    to go to sleep    and then    if it should be the will of its inquisitor the privilege to die    537 me prove it now    whoever doubt me stop to prove it    now    make haste    the scruple! death be scant for opportunity    the river reaches to my feet    as yet    my heart be dry    oh lover    life could not convince    might death    enable thee    the river reaches to my breast    still    still    my hands above proclaim with their remaining might    dost recognize the love? the river reaches to my mouth    remember    when the sea swept by my searching eyes    the last    themselves were quick    with thee! 538 'tis true    they shut me in the cold    but then    themselves were warm and could not know the feeling 'twas    forget it    lord    of them    let not my witness hinder them in heavenly esteem    no paradise could be    conferred through their beloved blame    the harm they did    was short    and since myself    who bore it    do    forgive them    even as myself    or else    forgive not me    539 the province of the saved should be the art    to save    through skill obtained in themselves    the science of the grave no man can understand but he that hath endured the dissolution    in himself    that man    be qualified to qualify despair to those who failing new    mistake defeat for death    each time    till acclimated    to    540 i took my power in my hand    and went against the world    'twas not so much as david    had    but i    was twice as bold    i aimed by pebble    but myself was all the one that fell    was it goliath    was too large    or was myself    too small? 541 some such butterfly be seen on brazilian pampas    just at noon    no later    sweet    then    the license closes    some such spice    express and pass    subject to your plucking    as the stars    you knew last night    foreigners    this morning    542 i had no cause to be awake    my best    was gone to sleep    and morn a new politeness took    and failed to wake them up    but called the others    clear    and passed their curtains by    sweet morning    when i oversleep    knock    recollect    to me    i looked at sunrise    once    and then i looked at them    and wishfulness in me arose    for circumstance the same    'twas such an ample peace    it could not hold a sigh    'twas sabbath    with the bells divorced    'twas sunset    all the day    so choosing but a gown    and taking but a prayer    the only raiment i should need    i struggled    and was there    543 i fear a man of frugal speech    i fear a silent man    haranguer    i can overtake    or babbler    entertain    but he who weigheth    while the rest    expend their furthest pound    of this man    i am wary    i fear that he is grand    544 the martyr poets    did not tell    but wrought their pang in syllable    that when their mortal name be numb    their mortal fate    encourage some    the martyr painters    never spoke    bequeathing    rather    to their work    that when their conscious fingers cease    some seek in art    the art of peace    545 'tis one by one    the father counts    and then a tract between set cypherless    to teach the eye the value of its ten    until the peevish student acquire the quick of skill    then numerals are dowered back    adorning all the rule    'tis mostly slate and pencil    and darkness on the school distracts the children's fingers    still the eternal rule regards least cypherer alike with leader of the band    and every separate urchin's sum    is fashioned for his hand    546 to fill a gap insert the thing that caused it    block it up with other    and 'twill yawn the more    you cannot solder an abyss with air. 547 i've seen a dying eye run round and round a room    in search of something    as it seemed    then cloudier become    and then    obscure with fog    and then    be soldered down without disclosing what it be 'twere blessed to have seen    548 death is potential to that man who dies    and to his friend    beyond that    unconspicuous to anyone but god    of these two    god remembers the longest    for the friend    is integral    and therefore itself dissolved    of god    549 that i did always love i bring thee proof that till i loved i never lived    enough    that i shall love alway    i argue thee that love is life    and life hath immortality    this    dost thou doubt    sweet    then have i nothing to show but calvary    550 i cross till i am weary a mountain    in my mind    more mountains    then a sea    more seas    and then a desert    find    and my horizon blocks with steady    drifting    grains of unconjectured quantity    as asiatic rains    nor this    defeat my pace    it hinder from the west but as an enemy's salute one hurrying to rest    what merit had the goal    except there intervene faint doubt    and far competitor    to jeopardize the gain? at last    the grace in sight    i shout unto my feet    i offer them the whole of heaven the instant that we meet    they strive    and yet delay    they perish    do we die    or is this death's experiment    reversed    in victory? 551 there is a shame of nobleness    confronting sudden pelf    a finer shame of ecstasy    convicted of itself    a best disgrace    a brave man feels    acknowledged    of the brave    one more    "ye blessed"    to be told    but that's    behind the grave    552 an ignorance a sunset confer upon the eye    of territory    color    circumference    decay    its amber revelation exhilirate    debase    omnipotence' inspection of our inferior face    and when the solemn features confirm    in victory    we start    as if detected in immortality    553 one crucifixion is recorded    only    how many be is not affirmed of mathematics    or history    one calvary    exhibited to stranger    as many be as persons    or peninsulas    gethsemane    is but a province    in the being's centre    judea    for journey    or crusade's achieving    too near    our lord    indeed    made compound witness    and yet    there's newer    nearer crucifixion than that    554 the black berry    wears a thorn in his side    but no man heard him cry    he offers his berry, just the same to partridge    and to boy    he sometimes holds upon the fence    or struggles to a tree    or clasps a rock, with both his hands    but not for sympathy    we    tell a hurt    to cool it    this mourner    to the sky a little further reaches    instead    brave black berry    555 trust in the unexpected    by this    was william kidd persuaded of the buried gold    as one had testified    through this    the old philosopher    his talismanic stone discerned    still withholden to effort undivine    'twas this    allured columbus    when genoa    withdrew before an apparition baptized america    the same    afflicted thomas    when deity assured 'twas better    the perceiving not    provided it believed    556 the brain, within its groove runs evenly    and true    but let a splinter swerve    'twere easier for you    to put a current back    when floods have slit the hills    and scooped a turnpike for themselves    and trodden out the mills    557 she hideth her the last    and is the first, to rise    her night doth hardly recompense the closing of her eyes    she doth her purple work    and putteth her away in low apartments in the sod   as worthily as we. to imitate her life as impotent would be as make of our imperfect mints, the julep    of the bee    558 but little carmine hath her face    of emerald scant    her gown    her beauty    is the love she doth    itself    exhibit    mine    559 it knew no medicine    it was not sickness    then    nor any need of surgery    and therefore    'twas not pain    it moved away the cheeks    a dimple at a time    and left the profile    plainer    and in the place of bloom it left the little tint that never had a name    you've seen it on a cast's face    was paradise    to blame    if momently ajar    temerity    drew near    and sickened    ever afterward for somewhat that it saw? 560 it knew no lapse, nor diminuation    but large    serene    burned on    until through dissolution    it failed from men    i could not deem these planetary forces annulled    but suffered an exchange of territory    or world    561 i measure every grief i meet with narrow, probing, eyes    i wonder if it weighs like mine    or has an easier size. i wonder if they bore it long    or did it just begin    i could not tell the date of mine    it feels so old a pain    i wonder if it hurts to live    and if they have to try    and whether    could they choose between    it would not be    to die    i note that some    gone patient long    at length, renew their smile    an imitation of a light that has so little oil    i wonder if when years have piled    some thousands    on the harm    that hurt them early    such a lapse could give them any balm    or would they go on aching still through centuries of nerve    enlightened to a larger pain   in contrast with the love    the grieved    are many    i am told    there is the various cause    death    is but one    and comes but once    and only nails the eyes    there's grief of want    and grief of cold    a sort they call "despair"    there's banishment from native eyes    in sight of native air    and though i may not guess the kind    correctly    yet to me a piercing comfort it affords in passing calvary    to note the fashions    of the cross    and how they're mostly worn    still fascinated to presume that some    are like my own    562 conjecturing a climate of unsuspended suns    adds poignancy to winter    the shivering fancy turns to a fictitious country to palliate a cold    not obviated of degree    nor erased    of latitude    563 i could not prove the years had feet    yet confident they run am i, from symptoms that are past and series that are done    i find my feet have further goals    i smile upon the aims that felt so ample    yesterday    today's    have vaster claims    i do not doubt the self i was was competent to me    but something awkward in the fit    proves that    outgrown    i see    564 my period had come for prayer    no other art    would do    my tactics missed a rudiment    creator    was it you? god grows above    so those who pray horizons    must ascend    and so i stepped upon the north to see this curious friend    his house was not    no sign had he    by chimney    nor by door could i infer his residence    vast prairies of air unbroken by a settler    were all that i could see    infinitude    had'st thou no face that i might look on thee? the silence condescended    creation stopped    for me    but awed beyond my errand    i worshipped    did not "pray"    565 one anguish    in a crowd    a minor thing    it sounds    and yet, unto the single doe attempted of the hounds 'tis terror as consummate as legions of alarm did leap, full flanked, upon the host    'tis units    make the swarm    a small leech    on the vitals    the sliver, in the lung    the bung out    of an artery    are scarce accounted    harms    yet might    by relation to that repealless thing    a being    impotent to end    when once it has begun    566 a dying tiger    moaned for drink    i hunted all the sand    i caught the dripping of a rock and bore it in my hand    his mighty balls    in death were thick    but searching    i could see a vision on the retina of water    and of me    'twas not my blame    who sped too slow    'twas not his blame    who died while i was reaching him    but 'twas    the fact that he was dead    567 he gave away his life    to us    gigantic sum    a trifle    in his own esteem    but magnified    by fame    until it burst the hearts that fancied they could hold    when swift it slipped its limit    and on the heavens    unrolled    'tis ours    to wince    and weep    and wonder    and decay by blossoms gradual process    he chose    maturity    and quickening    as we sowed    just obviated bud    and when we turned to note the growth    broke    perfect    from the pod    568 we learned the whole of love    the alphabet    the words    a chapter    then the mighty book    then    revelation closed    but in each other's eyes an ignorance beheld    diviner than the childhood's    and each to each, a child    attempted to expound what neither    understood    alas, that wisdom is so large    and truth    so manifold! 569 i reckon    when i count it all    first    poets    then the sun    then summer    then the heaven of god    and then    the list is done    but, looking back    the first so seems to comprehend the whole    the others look a needless show    so i write    poets    all    their summer    lasts a solid year    they can afford a sun the east    would deem extravagant    and if the further heaven    be beautiful as they prepare for those who worship them    it is too difficult a grace    to justify the dream    570 i could die    to know    'tis a trifling knowledge    news boys salute the door    carts    joggle by    morning's bold face    stares in the window    were but mine    the charter of the least fly    houses hunch the house with their brick shoulders    coals    from a rolling load    rattle    how    near    to the very square    his foot is passing    possibly, this moment    while i    dream    here    571 must be a woe    a loss or so    to bend the eye best beauty's way    but    once aslant it notes delight as difficult as stalactite a common bliss were had for less    the price    is even as the grace    our lord    thought no extravagance to pay    a cross    572 delight    becomes pictorial    when viewed through pain    more fair    because impossible than any gain    the mountain    at a given distance    in amber    lies    approached    the amber flits    a little    and that's    the skies    573 the test of love    is death    our lord    "so loved"    it saith    what largest lover    hath another    doth    if smaller patience    be    through less infinity    if bravo, sometimes swerve    through fainter nerve    accept its most    and overlook    the dust    last    least    the cross'    request    574 my first well day    since many ill    i asked to go abroad, and take the sunshine in my hands, and see the things in pod    a 'blossom just when i went in to take my chance with pain    uncertain if myself, or he, should prove the strongest one. the summer deepened, while we strove    she put some flowers away    and redder cheeked ones    in their stead    a fond    illusive way    to cheat herself, it seemed she tried    as if before a child to fade    tomorrow    rainbows held the sepulchre, could hide. she dealt a fashion to the nut    she tied the hoods to seeds    she dropped bright scraps of tint, about    and left brazilian threads on every shoulder that she met    then both her hands of haze put up    to hide her parting grace from our unfitted eyes. my loss, by sickness    was it loss? or that ethereal gain one earns by measuring the grave    then    measuring the sun    575 "heaven" has different signs    to me    sometimes, i think that noon is but a symbol of the place    and when again, at dawn, a mighty look runs round the world and settles in the hills    an awe if it should be like that upon the ignorance steals    the orchard, when the sun is on    the triumph of the birds when they together victory make    some carnivals of clouds    the rapture of a finished day    returning to the west    all these    remind us of the place that men call "paradise"    itself be fairer    we suppose    but how ourself, shall be adorned, for a superior grace    not yet, our eyes can see    576 i prayed, at first, a little girl, because they told me to    but stopped, when qualified to guess how prayer would feel    to me    if i believed god looked around, each time my childish eye fixed full, and steady, on his own in childish honesty    and told him what i'd like, today, and parts of his far plan that baffled me    the mingled side of his divinity    and often since, in danger, i count the force 'twould be to have a god so strong as that to hold my life for me till i could take the balance that tips so frequent, now, it takes me all the while to poise    and then    it doesn't stay    577 if i may have it, when it's dead, i'll be contented    so    if just as soon as breath is out it shall belong to me    until they lock it in the grave, 'tis bliss i cannot weigh    for tho' they lock thee in the grave, myself    can own the key    think of it lover! i and thee permitted    face to face to be    after a life    a death    we'll say    for death was that    and this    is thee    i'll tell thee all    how bald it grew    how midnight felt, at first    to me    how all the clocks stopped in the world    and sunshine pinched me    'twas so cold    then how the grief got sleepy    some    as if my soul were deaf and dumb    just making signs    across    to thee    that this way    thou could'st notice me    i'll tell you how i tried to keep a smile, to show you, when this deep all waded    we look back for play, at those old times    in calvary, forgive me, if the grave come slow    for coveting to look at thee    forgive me, if to stroke thy frost outvisions paradise! 578 the body grows without    the more convenient way    that if the spirit    like to hide its temple stands, alway, ajar    secure    inviting    it never did betray the soul that asked its shelter in solemn honesty 579 i had been hungry, all the years    my noon had come    to dine    i trembling drew the table near    and touched the curious wine    'twas this on tables i had seen    when turning, hungry, home i looked in windows, for the wealth i could not hope    for mine    i did not know the ample bread    'twas so unlike the crumb the birds and i, had often shared in nature's    dining room    the plenty hurt me    'twas so new    myself felt ill    and odd    as berry    of a mountain bush    transplanted    to a road    nor was i hungry    so i found that hunger    was a way of persons outside windows    the entering    takes away    580 i gave myself to him    and took himself, for pay, the solemn contract of a life was ratified, this way    the wealth might disappoint    myself a poorer prove than this great purchaser suspect, the daily own    of love depreciate the vision    but till the merchant buy    still fable    in the isles of spice    the subtle cargoes    lie    at least    'tis mutual    risk    some    found it    mutual gain    sweet debt of life    each night to owe    insolvent    every noon    581 i found the words to every thought i ever had    but one    and that    defies me    as a hand did try to chalk the sun to races    nurtured in the dark    how would your own    begin? can blaze be shown in cochineal    or noon    in mazarin? 582 inconceivably solemn! things go gay pierce    by the very press of imagery    their far parades    order on the eye with a mute pomp    a pleading pageantry    flags, are a brave sight    but no true eye ever went by one    steadily    music's triumphant    but the fine ear winces with delight are drums too near    583 a toad, can die of light    death is the common right of toads and men    of earl and midge the privilege    why swagger, then? the gnat's supremacy is large as thine    life    is a different thing    so measure wine    naked of flask    naked of cask    bare rhine    which ruby's mine? 584 it ceased to hurt me, though so slow i could not feel the anguish go    but only knew by looking back    that something    had benumbed the track    nor when it altered, i could say, for i had worn it, every day, as constant as the childish frock    i hung upon the peg, at night. but not the grief    that nestled close as needles    ladies softly press to cushions cheeks    to keep their place    nor what consoled it, i could trace    except, whereas 'twas wilderness    it's better    almost peace    585 i like to see it lap the miles    and lick the valleys up    and stop to feed itself at tanks    and then    prodigious step around a pile of mountains    and supercilious peer in shanties    by the sides of roads    and then a quarry pare to fit its ribs and crawl between complaining all the while in horrid    hooting stanza    then chase itself down hill    and neigh like boanerges    then    punctual as a star stop    docile and omnipotent at its own stable door    586 we talked as girls do    fond, and late    we speculated fair, on every subject, but the grave    of ours, none affair    we handled destinies, as cool    as we    disposers    be    and god, a quiet party to our authority    but fondest, dwelt upon ourself as we eventual    be    when girls to women, softly raised we    occupy    degree    we parted with a contract to cherish, and to write but heaven made both, impossible before another night. 587 empty my heart, of thee    its single artery    begin, and leave thee out    simply extinction's date    much billow hath the sea    one baltic    they    subtract thyself, in play, and not enough of me is left    to put away    "myself" meanth thee    erase the root    no tree    thee    then    no me    the heavens stripped    eternity's vast pocket, picked    588 i cried at pity    not at pain    i heard a woman say "poor child"    and something in her voice convicted me    of me    so long i fainted, to myself it seemed the common way, and health, and laughter, curious things    to look at, like a toy    to sometimes hear "rich people" buy and see the parcel rolled    and carried, i supposed    to heaven, for children, made of gold    but not to touch, or wish for, or think of, with a sigh    and so and so    had been to me, had god willed differently. i wish i knew that woman's name    so when she comes this way, to hold my life, and hold my ears for fear i hear her say she's "sorry i am dead"    again    just when the grave and i    have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, our only lullaby    589 the night was wide, and furnished scant with but a single star    that often as a cloud it met    blew out itself    for fear    the wind pursued the little bush    and drove away the leaves november left    then clambered up and fretted in the eaves    no squirrel went abroad    a dog's belated feet like intermittent plush, he heard adown the empty street    to feel if blinds be fast    and closer to the fire    her little rocking chair to draw    and shiver for the poor    the housewife's gentle task    how pleasanter    said she unto the sofa opposite    the sleet    than may, no thee    590 did you ever stand in a cavern's mouth    widths out of the sun    and look    and shudder, and block your breath    and deem to be alone in such a place, what horror, how goblin it would be    and fly, as 'twere pursuing you? then loneliness    looks so    did you ever look in a cannon's face    between whose yellow eye    and yours    the judgment intervened    the question of "to die"    extemporizing in your ear as cool as satyr's drums    if you remember, and were saved    it's liker so    it seems    591 to interrupt his yellow plan the sun does not allow caprices of the atmosphere    and even when the snow heaves balls of specks, like vicious boy directly in his eye    does not so much as turn his head busy with majesty    'tis his to stimulate the earth    and magnetize the sea    and bind astronomy, in place, yet any passing by would deem ourselves    the busier as the minutest bee that rides    emits a thunder    a bomb    to justify    592 what care the dead, for chanticleer    what care the dead for day? 'tis late your sunrise vex their face    and purple ribaldry    of morning pour as blank on them as on the tier of wall the mason builded, yesterday, and equally as cool    what care the dead for summer? the solstice had no sun could waste the snow before their gate    and knew one bird a tune    could thrill their mortised ear of all the birds that be    this one    beloved of mankind henceforward cherished be    what care the dead for winter? themselves as easy freeze    june noon    as january night    as soon the south    her breeze of sycamore    or cinnamon    deposit in a stone and put a stone to keep it warm    give spices    unto men    593 i think i was enchanted when first a sombre girl    i read that foreign lady    the dark    felt beautiful    and whether it was noon at night    or only heaven    at noon    for very lunacy of light i had not power to tell    the bees    became as butterflies    the butterflies    as swans    approached    and spurned the narrow grass    and just the meanest tunes that nature murmured to herself to keep herself in cheer    i took for giants    practising titanic opera    the days    to mighty metres stept    the homeliest    adorned as if unto a jubilee 'twere suddenly confirmed    i could not have defined the change    conversion of the mind like sanctifying in the soul    is witnessed    not explained    'twas a divine insanity    the danger to be sane should i again experience    'tis antidote to turn    to tomes of solid witchcraft    magicians be asleep    but magic    hath an element like deity    to keep    594 the battle fought between the soul and no man    is the one of all the battles prevalent    by far the greater one    no news of it is had abroad    its bodiless campaign establishes, and terminates    invisible    unknown    nor history    record it    as legions of a night the sunrise scatters    these endure    enact    and terminate    595 like mighty foot lights    burned the red at bases of the trees    the far theatricals of day exhibiting    to these    'twas universe    that did applaud    while chiefest    of the crowd    enabled by his royal dress    myself distinguished god    596 when i was small, a woman died    today    her only boy went up from the potomac    his face all victory to look at her    how slowly the seasons must have turned till bullets clipt an angle and he passed quickly round    if pride shall be in paradise    ourself cannot decide    of their imperial conduct    no person testified    but, proud in apparition    that woman and her boy pass back and forth, before my brain as even in the sky    i'm confident that bravoes    perpetual break abroad for braveries, remote as this in scarlet maryland    597 it always felt to me    a wrong to that old moses    done    to let him see    the canaan    without the entering    and tho' in soberer moments    no moses there can be i'm satisfied    the romance in point of injury    surpasses sharper stated    of stephen    or of paul    for these    were only put to death    while god's adroiter will on moses    seemed to fasten with tantalizing play as boy    should deal with lesser boy    to prove ability. the fault    was doubtless israel's    myself    had banned the tribes    and ushered grand old moses in pentateuchal robes upon the broad possession 'twas little    but titled him    to see    old man on nebo! late as this    my justice bleeds    for thee! 598 three times    we parted    breath    and i    three times    he would not go    but strove to stir the lifeless fan the waters    strove to stay. three times    the billows tossed me up    then caught me    like a ball    then made blue faces in my face    and pushed away a sail that crawled leagues off    i liked to see    for thinking    while i die    how pleasant to behold a thing where human faces    be    the waves grew sleepy    breath    did not    the winds    like children    lulled    then sunrise kissed my chrysalis    and i stood up    and lived    599 there is a pain    so utter    it swallows substance up    then covers the abyss with trance    so memory can step around    across    upon it    as one within a swoon    goes safely    where an open eye    would drop him    bone by bone. 600 it troubled me as once i was    for i was once a child    concluding how an atom    fell    and yet the heavens    held    the heavens weighed the most    by far    yet blue    and solid    stood    without a bolt    that i could prove    would giants    understand? life set me larger    problems    some i shall keep    to solve till algebra is easier    or simpler proved    above    then    too    be comprehended    what sorer    puzzled me    why heaven did not break away    and tumble    blue    on me    601 a still    volcano    life    that flickered in the night    when it was dark enough to do without erasing sight    a quiet    earthquake style    too subtle to suspect by natures this side naples    the north cannot detect the solemn    torrid    symbol    the lips that never lie    whose hissing corals part    and shut    and cities    ooze away    602 of brussels    it was not    of kidderminster? nay    the winds did buy it of the woods    they    sold it unto me it was a gentle price    the poorest    could afford    it was within the frugal purse of beggar    or of bird    of small and spicy yards    in hue    a mellow dun    of sunshine    and of sere    composed    but, principally    of sun    the wind    unrolled it fast    and spread it on the ground    upholsterer of the pines    is he    upholsterer    of the pond    603 he found my being    set it up    adjusted it to place    then carved his name    upon it    and bade it to the east be faithful    in his absence    and he would come again    with equipage of amber    that time    to take it home    604 unto my books    so good to turn    far ends of tired days    it half endears the abstinence    and pain    is missed    in praise    as flavors    cheer retarded guests with banquettings to be    so spices    stimulate the time till my small library    it may be wilderness    without    far feet of failing men    but holiday    excludes the night    and it is bells    within    i thank these kinsmen of the shelf    their countenances kid enamor    in prospective    and satisfy    obtained    605 the spider holds a silver ball in unperceived hands    and dancing softly to himself his yarn of pearl    unwinds    he plies from nought to nought    in unsubstantial trade    supplants our tapestries with his    in half the period    an hour to rear supreme his continents of light    then dangle from the housewife's broom    his boundaries    forgot    606 the trees like tassels    hit    and swung    there seemed to rise a tune from miniature creatures accompanying the sun    far psalteries of summer    enamoring the ear they never yet did satisfy    remotest    when most fair the sun shone whole at intervals    then half    then utter hid    as if himself were optional and had estates of cloud sufficient to enfold him eternally from view    except it were a whim of his to let the orchards grow    a bird sat careless on the fence    one gossipped in the lane on silver matters charmed a snake just winding round a stone    bright flowers slit a calyx and soared upon a stem like hindered flags    sweet hoisted    with spices    in the hem    'twas more    i cannot mention    how mean    to those that see    vandyke's delineation of nature's    summer day! 607 of nearness to her sundered things the soul has special times    when dimness    looks the oddity    distinctness    easy    seems    the shapes we buried, dwell about, familiar, in the rooms    untarnished by the sepulchre, the mouldering playmate comes    in just the jacket that he wore    long buttoned in the mold since we    old mornings, children    played    divided    by a world    the grave yields back her robberies    the years, our pilfered things    bright knots of apparitions salute us, with their wings    as we    it were    that perished    themself    had just remained till we rejoin them    and 'twas they, and not ourself that mourned. 608 afraid! of whom am i afraid? not death    for who is he? the porter of my father's lodge as much abasheth me! of life? 'twere odd i fear [a] thing that comprehendeth me in one or two existences    as deity decree    of resurrection? is the east afraid to trust the morn with her fastidious forehead? as soon impeach my crown! 609 i years had been from home and now before the door i dared not enter, lest a face i never saw before stare solid into mine and ask my business there    "my business but a life i left was such remaining there?" i leaned upon the awe    i lingered with before    the second like an ocean rolled and broke against my ear    i laughed a crumbling laugh that i could fear a door who consternation compassed and never winced before. i fitted to the latch my hand, with trembling care lest back the awful door should spring and leave me in the floor    then moved my fingers off as cautiously as glass and held my ears, and like a thief fled gasping from the house    610 you'll find    it when you try to die    the easier to let go    for recollecting such as went    you could not spare    you know. and though their places somewhat filled    as did their marble names with moss    they never grew so full    you chose the newer names    and when this world    sets further back    as dying    say it does    the former love    distincter grows    and supersedes the fresh    and thought of them    so fair invites    it looks too tawdry grace to stay behind    with just the toys we bought    to ease their place    611 i see thee better    in the dark    i do not need a light    the love of thee    a prism be    excelling violet    i see thee better for the years that hunch themselves between    the miner's lamp    sufficient be    to nullify the mine    and in the grave    i see thee best    its little panels be aglow    all ruddy    with the light i held so high, for thee    what need of day    to those whose dark    hath so    surpassing sun    it deem it be    continually    at the meridian? 612 it would have starved a gnat    to live so small as i    and yet i was a living child    with food's necessity upon me    like a claw    i could no more remove than i could coax a leech away    or make a dragon    move    not like the gnat    had i    the privilege to fly and seek a dinner for myself    how mightier he    than i    nor like himself    the art upon the window pane to gad my little being out    and not begin    again    613 they shut me up in prose    as when a little girl they put me in the closet    because they liked me "still"    still! could themself have peeped    and seen my brain    go round    they might as wise have lodged a bird for treason    in the pound    himself has but to will and easy as a star abolish his captivity    and laugh    no more have i    614 in falling timbers buried    there breathed a man    outside    the spades    were plying    the lungs    within    could he    know    they sought him    could they    know    he breathed    horrid sand partition    neither    could be heard    never slacked the diggers    but when spades had done    oh, reward of anguish, it was dying    then    many things    are fruitless    'tis a baffling earth    but there is no gratitude like the grace    of death    615 our journey had advanced    our feet were almost come to that odd fork in being's road    eternity    by term    our pace took sudden awe    our feet    reluctant    led    before    were cities    but between    the forest of the dead    retreat    was out of hope    behind    a sealed route    eternity's white flag    before    and god    at every gate    616 i rose    because he sank    i thought it would be opposite    but when his power dropped    my soul grew straight. i cheered my fainting prince    i sang firm    even    chants    i helped his film    with hymn    and when the dews drew off that held his forehead stiff    i met him    balm to balm    i told him best    must pass through this low arch of flesh    no casque so brave it spurn the grave    i told him worlds i knew where emperors grew    who recollected us if we were true    and so with thews of hymn    and sinew from within    and ways i knew not that i knew    till then    i lifted him    617 don't put up my thread and needle    i'll begin to sew when the birds begin to whistle    better stitches    so    these were bent    my sight got crooked    when my mind    is plain i'll do seams    a queen's endeavor would not blush to own    hems    too fine for lady's tracing to the sightless knot    tucks    of dainty interspersion    like a dotted dot    leave my needle in the furrow    where i put it down    i can make the zigzag stitches straight    when i am strong    till then    dreaming i am sewing fetch the seam i missed    closer    so i    at my sleeping    still surmise i stitch    618 at leisure is the soul that gets a staggering blow    the width of life    before it spreads without a thing to do    it begs you give it work    but just the placing pins    or humblest patchwork    children do    to help its vacant hands    619 glee    the great storm is over    four    have recovered the land    forty    gone down together    into the boiling sand    ring    for the scant salvation    toll    for the bonnie souls    neighbor    and friend    and bridegroom    spinning upon the shoals    how they will tell the story    when winter shake the door    till the children urge    but the forty    did they    come back no more? then a softness    suffuse the story    and a silence    the teller's eye    and the children    no further question    and only the sea    reply    620 it makes no difference abroad    the seasons    fit    the same    the mornings blossom into noons    and split their pods of flame    wild flowers    kindle in the woods    the brooks slam    all the day    no black bird bates his banjo    for passing calvary    auto da fe    and judgment    are nothing to the bee    his separation from his rose    to him    sums misery    621 i asked no other thing    no other    was denied    i offered being    for it    the mighty merchant sneered    brazil? he twirled a button    without a glance my way    "but    madam    is there nothing else    that we can show    today?" 622 to know just how he suffered    would be dear    to know if any human eyes were near to whom he could entrust his wavering gaze    until it settle broad    on paradise    to know if he was patient    part content    was dying as he thought    or different    was it a pleasant day to die    and did the sunshine face his way    what was his furthest mind    of home    or god    or what the distant say    at news that he ceased human nature such a day    and wishes    had he any    just his sigh    accented    had been legible    to me    and was he confident until ill fluttered out    in everlasting well    and if he spoke    what name was best    what last what one broke off with at the drowsiest    was he afraid    or tranquil    might he know how conscious consciousness    could grow    till love that was    and love too best to be    meet    and the junction be eternity 623 it was too late for man    but early, yet, for god    creation    impotent to help    but prayer    remained    our side    how excellent the heaven    when earth    cannot be had    how hospitable    then    the face of our old neighbor    god    624 forever    it composed of nows    'tis not a different time    except for infiniteness    and latitude of home    from this    experienced here    remove the dates    to these    let months dissolve in further months    and years    exhale in years    without debate    or pause    or celebrated days    no different our years would be from anno domini's    625 'twas a long parting    but the time for interview    had come    before the judgment seat of god    the last    and second time these fleshless lovers met    a heaven in a gaze    a heaven of heavens    the privilege of one another's eyes    no lifetime    on them    appareled as the new unborn    except they had beheld    born infiniter    now    was bridal    e'er like this? a paradise    the host    and cherubim    and seraphim    the unobtrusive guest    626 only god    detect the sorrow    only god    the jehovahs    are no babblers    unto god    god the son    confide it    still secure    god the spirit's honor    just as sure    627 the tint i cannot take    is best    the color too remote that i could show it in bazaar    a guinea at a sight    the fine    impalpable array    that swaggers on the eye like cleopatra's company    repeated    in the sky    the moments of dominion that happen on the soul and leave it with a discontent too exquisite    to tell    the eager look    on landscapes    as if they just repressed some secret    that was pushing like chariots    in the vest    the pleading of the summer    that other prank    of snow    that cushions mystery with tulle, for fear the squirrels    know. their graspless manners    mock us    until the cheated eye shuts arrogantly    in the grave    another way    to see    628 they called me to the window, for " 'twas sunset"    some one said    i only saw a sapphire farm    and just a single herd    of opal cattle    feeding far upon so vain a hill    as even while i looked    dissolved    nor cattle were    nor soil    but in their stead    a sea    displayed    and ships    of such a size as crew of mountains    could afford    and decks    to seat the skies    this    too    the showman rubbed away    and when i looked again    nor farm    nor opal herd    was there    nor mediterranean    629 i watched the moon around the house until upon a pane    she stopped    a traveller's privilege    for rest    and there upon i gazed    as at a stranger    the lady in the town doth think no incivility to lift her glass    upon    but never stranger justified the curiosity like mine    for not a foot    nor hand    nor formula    had she    but like a head    a guillotine slid carelessly away    did independent, amber    sustain her in the sky    or like a stemless flower    upheld in rolling air by finer gravitations    than bind philosopher    no hunger    had she    nor an inn    her toilette    to suffice    nor avocation    nor concern for little mysteries as harass us    like life    and death    and afterwards    or nay    but seemed engrossed to absolute    with shining    and the sky    the privilege to scrutinize was scarce upon my eyes when, with a silver practise    she vaulted out of gaze    and next    i met her on a cloud    myself too far below to follow her superior road    or its advantage    blue    630 the lightning playeth    all the while    but when he singeth    then    ourselves are conscious he exist    and we approach him    stern    with insulators    and a glove    whose short    sepulchral bass alarms us    tho' his yellow feet may pass    and counterpass    upon the ropes    above our head    continual    with the news    nor we so much as check our speech    nor stop to cross ourselves    631 ourselves were wed one summer    dear    your vision    was in june    and when your little lifetime failed, i wearied    too    of mine    and overtaken in the dark    where you had put me down    by some one carrying a light    i    too    received the sign. 'tis true    our futures different lay    your cottage    faced the sun    while oceans    and the north must be    on every side of mine 'tis true, your garden led the bloom, for mine    in frosts    was sown    and yet, one summer, we were queens    but you    were crowned in june    632 the brain    is wider than the sky    for    put them side by side    the one the other will contain with ease    and you    beside    the brain is deeper than the sea    for    hold them    blue to blue    the one the other will absorb    as sponges    buckets    do    the brain is just the weight of god    for    heft them    pound for pound    and they will differ    if they do    as syllable from sound    633 when bells stop ringing    church    begins the positive    of bells    when cogs    stop    that's circumference    the ultimate    of wheels. 634 you'll know her    by her foot    the smallest gamboge hand with fingers    where the toes should be    would more affront the sand    than this quaint creature's boot    adjusted by a stern    without a button    i could vouch    unto a velvet limb    you'll know her    by her vest    tight fitting    orange    brown    inside a jacket duller    she wore when she was born    her cap is small    and snug    constructed for the winds    she'd pass for barehead    short way off    but as she closer stands    so finer 'tis than wool    you cannot feel the seam    nor is it clasped unto of band    nor held upon    of brim    you'll know her    by her voice    at first    a doubtful tone    a sweet endeavor    but as march to april    hurries on    she squanders on your ear such arguments of pearl    you beg the robin in your brain to keep the other    still    635 i think the longest hour of all is when the cars have come    and we are waiting for the coach    it seems as though the time indignant    that the joy was come    did block the gilded hands    and would not let the seconds by    but slowest instant    ends    the pendulum begins to count    like little scholars    loud    the steps grow thicker    in the hall    the heart begins to crowd    then i    my timid service done    tho' service 'twas, of love    take up my little violin    and further north    remove. 636 the way i read a letter's    this    'tis first    i lock the door    and push it with my fingers    next    for transport it be sure    and then i go the furthest off to counteract a knock    then draw my little letter forth and slowly pick the lock    then    glancing narrow, at the wall    and narrow at the floor for firm conviction of a mouse not exorcised before    peruse how infinite i am to no one that you    know    and sigh for lack of heaven    but not the heaven god bestow    637 the child's faith is new    whole    like his principle    wide    like the sunrise on fresh eyes    never had a doubt    laughs    at a scruple    believes all sham but paradise    credits the world    deems his dominion broadest of sovereignties    and caesar    mean    in the comparison    baseless emperor    ruler of nought    yet swaying all    grown bye and bye to hold mistaken his pretty estimates of prickly things he gains the skill sorrowful    as certain    men    to anticipate instead of kings    638 to my small hearth his fire came    and all my house aglow did fan and rock, with sudden light    'twas sunrise    'twas the sky    impanelled from no summer brief    with limit of decay    'twas noon    without the news of night    nay, nature, it was day    639 my portion is defeat    today    a paler luck than victory    less paeans    fewer bells    the drums don't follow me    with tunes    defeat    a somewhat slower    means    more arduous than balls    'tis populous with bone and stain    and men too straight to stoop again   , and piles of solid moan    and chips of blank    in boyish eyes    and scraps of prayer    and death's surprise, stamped visible    in stone    there's somewhat prouder, over there    the trumpets tell it to the air    how different victory to him who has it    and the one who to have had it, would have been contender    to die    640 i cannot live with you    it would be life    and life is over there    behind the shelf the sexton keeps the key to    putting up our life    his porcelain    like a cup    discarded of the housewife    quaint    or broke    a newer sevres pleases    old ones crack    i could not die    with you    for one must wait to shut the other's gaze down    you    could not    and i    could i stand by and see you    freeze    without my right of frost    death's privilege? nor could i rise    with you    because your face would put out jesus'    that new grace glow plain    and foreign on my homesick eye    except that you than he shone closer by    they'd judge us    how    for you    served heaven    you know, or sought to    i could not    because you saturated sight    and i had no more eyes for sordid excellence as paradise and were you lost, i would be    though my name rang loudest on the heavenly fame    and were you    saved    and i    condemned to be where you were not    that self    were hell to me    so we must meet apart    you there    i    here    with just the door ajar that oceans are    and prayer    and that white sustenance    despair    641 size circumscribes    it has no room for petty furniture    the giant tolerates no gnat for ease of gianture    repudiates it, all the more    because intrinsic size ignores the possibility of calumnies    or flies. 642 me from myself    to banish    had i art    impregnable my fortress unto all heart    but since myself    assault me    how have i peace except by subjugating consciousness? and since we're mutual monarch how this be except by abdication    me    of me? 643 i could suffice for him, i knew    he    could suffice for me    yet hesitating fractions    both surveyed infinity    "would i be whole" he sudden broached    my syllable rebelled    'twas face to face with nature    forced    'twas face to face with god    withdrew the sun    to other wests    withdrew the furthest star before decision    stooped to speech    and then    be audibler the answer of the sea unto the motion of the moon    herself adjust her tides    unto    could i    do else    with mine? 644 you left me    sire    two legacies    a legacy of love a heavenly father would suffice had he the offer of    you left me boundaries of pain    capacious as the sea    between eternity and time    your consciousness    and me    645 bereavement in their death to feel whom we have never seen    a vital kinsmanship import our soul and theirs    between    for stranger    strangers do not mourn    there be immortal friends whom death see first    'tis news of this that paralyze ourselves    who, vital only to our thought    such presence bear away in dying    'tis as if our souls absconded    suddenly    646 i think to live    may be a bliss to those who dare to try    beyond my limit to conceive    my lip    to testify    i think the heart i former wore could widen    till to me the other, like the little bank appear    unto the sea    i think the days    could every one in ordination stand    and majesty    be easier    than an inferior kind    no numb alarm    lest difference come    no goblin    on the bloom    no start in apprehension's ear, no bankruptcy    no doom    but certainties of sun    midsummer    in the mind    a steadfast south    upon the soul    her polar time    behind    the vision    pondered long    so plausible becomes that i esteem the fiction    real    the real    fictitious seems    how bountiful the dream    what plenty    it would be    had all my life but been mistake just rectified    in thee 647 a little road    not made of man    enabled of the eye    accessible to thill of bee    or cart of butterfly    if town it have    beyond itself    'tis that    i cannot say    i only know    no curricle that rumble there bear me    648 promise this    when you be dying    some shall summon me    mine belong your latest sighing    mine    to belt your eye    not with coins    though they be minted from an emperor's hand    be my lips    the only buckle your low eyes    demand    mine to stay    when all have wandered    to devise once more if the life be too surrendered    life of mine    restore    poured like this    my whole libation    just that you should see bliss of death    life's bliss extol thro' imitating you    mine    to guard your narrow precinct    to seduce the sun longest on your south, to linger, largest dews of morn to demand, in your low favor lest the jealous grass greener lean    or fonder cluster round some other face    mine to supplicate madonna    if madonna be could behold so far a creature    christ    omitted    me    just to follow your dear future    ne'er so far behind    for my heaven    had i not been most enough    denied? 649 her sweet turn to leave the homestead came the darker way    carriages    be sure    and guests    too    but for holiday 'tis more pitiful endeavor than did loaded sea o'er the curls attempt to caper it had cast away    never bride had such assembling    never kinsmen kneeled to salute so fair a forehead    garland be indeed    fitter feet    of her before us    than whatever brow art of snow    or trick of lily possibly bestow of her father    whoso ask her    he shall seek as high as the palm    that serve the desert    to obtain the sky    distance    be her only motion    if 'tis nay    or yes    acquiescence    or demurral    whosoever guess    he    must pass the crystal angle that obscure her face    he    must have achieved in person equal paradise    650 pain    has an element of blank    it cannot recollect when it begun    or if there were a time when it was not    it has no future    but itself    its infinite contain its past    enlightened to perceive new periods    of pain. 651 so much summer me for showing illegitimate    would a smile's minute bestowing too exorbitant to the lady with the guinea look    if she should know crumb of mine a robin's larder would suffice to stow    652 a prison gets to be a friend    between its ponderous face and ours    a kinsmanship express    and in its narrow eyes    we come to look with gratitude for the appointed beam it deal us    stated as our food    and hungered for    the same    we learn to know the planks    that answer to our feet    so miserable a sound    at first    nor ever now    so sweet    as plashing in the pools    when memory was a boy    but a demurer circuit    a geometric joy    the posture of the key that interrupt the day to our endeavor    not so real the check of liberty    as this phantasm steel    whose features    day and night    are present to us    as our own    and as escapeless    quite    the narrow round    the stint    the slow exchange of hope    for something passiver    content too steep for lookinp up    the liberty we knew avoided    like a dream    too wide for any night but heaven    if that    indeed    redeem    653 of being is a bird the likest to the down an easy breeze do put afloat the general heavens    upon    it soars    and shifts    and whirls    and measures with the clouds in easy    even    dazzling pace    no different the birds    except a wake of music accompany their feet    as did the down emit a tune    for ecstasy    of it 654 a long    long sleep    a famous    sleep    that makes no show for morn    by stretch of limb    or stir of lid    an independent one    was ever idleness like this? upon a bank of stone to bask the centuries away    nor once look up    for noon? 655 without this    there is nought    all other riches be as is the twitter of a bird    heard opposite the sea    i could not care    to gain a lesser than the whole    for did not this include themself    as seams    include the ball? i wished a way might be my heart to subdivide    'twould magnify    the gratitude    and not reduce    the gold    656 the name    of it    is "autumn"    the hue    of it    is blood    an artery    upon the hill    a vein    along the road    great globules    in the alleys    and oh, the shower of stain    when winds    upset the basin    and spill the scarlet rain    it sprinkles bonnets    far below    it gathers ruddy pools    then    eddies like a rose    away    upon vermilion wheels    657 i dwell in possibility    a fairer house than prose    more numerous of windows    superior    for doors    of chambers as the cedars    impregnable of eye    and for an everlasting roof the gambrels of the sky    of visitors    the fairest    for occupation    this    the spreading wide of narrow hands to gather paradise    658 whole gulfs    of red, and fleets    of red    and crews    of solid blood    did place upon the west    tonight    as 'twere specific ground    and they    appointed creatures    in authorized arrays    due    promptly    as a drama    that bows    and disappears    659 that first day, when you praised me, sweet, and said that i was strong    and could be mighty, if i liked    that day    the days among    glows central    like a jewel between diverging golds    the minor one    that gleamed behind    and vaster    of the world's. 660 'tis good    the looking back on grief    to re endure a day    we thought the mighty funeral    of all conceived joy    to recollect how busy grass did meddle    one by one    till all the grief with summer    waved and none could see the stone. and though the woe you have today be larger    as the sea exceeds its unremembered drop    they're water    equally    661 could i but ride indefinite as doth the meadow bee and visit only where i liked and no one visit me and flirt all day with buttercups and marry whom i may and dwell a little everywhere or better, run away with no police to follow or chase him if he do till he should jump peninsulas to get away from me    i said "but just to be a bee" upon a raft of air and row in nowhere all day long and anchor "off the bar" what liberty! so captives deem who tight in dungeons are. 662 embarrassment of one another and god is revelation's limit, aloud is nothing that is chief, but still, divinity dwells under a seal. 663 again    his voice is at the door    i feel the old degree    i hear him ask the servant for such an one    as me    i take a flower    as i go    my face to justify    he never saw me    in this life    i might surprise his eye! i cross the hall with mingled steps    i    silent    pass the door    i look on all this world contains    just his face    nothing more! we talk in careless    and it toss    a kind of plummet strain    each    sounding    shyly    just    how    deep    the other's one    had been    we walk    i leave my dog    at home    a tender    thoughtful moon    goes with us    just a little way    and    then    we are alone    alone    if angels are "alone"    first time they try the sky! alone    if those "veiled faces"    be    we cannot count    on high! i'd give    to live that hour    again    the purple    in my vein    but he must count the drops    himself    my price for every stain! 664 of all the souls that stand create    i have elected    one    when sense from spirit    files away    and subterfuge    is done    when that which is    and that which was    apart    intrinsic    stand    and this brief drama in the flesh    is shifted    like a sand    when figures show their royal front    and mists    are carved away, behold the atom    i preferred    to all the lists of clay! 665 dropped into the ether acre    wearing the sod gown    bonnet of everlasting laces    brooch    frozen on    horses of blonde    and coach of silver    baggage a strapped pearl    journey of down    and whip of diamond    riding to meet the earl    666 ah, teneriffe! retreating mountain! purples of ages    pause for you    sunset    reviews her sapphire regiment    day    drops you her red adieu! still    clad in your mail of ices    thigh of granite    and thew    of steel    heedless    alike    of pomp    or parting ah, teneriffe! i'm kneeling    still    667 bloom upon the mountain    stated    blameless of a name    efflorescence of a sunset    reproduced    the same    seed, had i, my purple sowing should endow the day    not a topic of a twilight    show itself away    who for tilling    to the mountain come, and disappear    whose be her renown, or fading, witness, is not here    while i state    the solemn petals, far as north    and east, far as south and west    expanding    culminate    in rest    and the mountain to the evening fit his countenance    indicating, by no muscle    the experience    668 "nature" is what we see    the hill    the afternoon    squirrel    eclipse    the bumble bee    nay    nature is heaven    nature is what we hear    the bobolink    the sea    thunder    the cricket    nay    nature is harmony    nature is what we know    yet have no art to say    so impotent our wisdom is to her simplicity. 669 no romance sold unto could so enthrall a man as the perusal of his individual one    'tis fiction's    when 'tis small enough to credit    'tisn't true! 670 one need not be a chamber    to be haunted    one need not be a house    the brain has corridors    surpassing material place    far safer, of a midnight meeting external ghost than its interior confronting    that cooler host. far safer, through an abbey gallop, the stones a'chase    than unarmed, one's a'self encounter    in lonesome place    ourself behind ourself, concealed    should startle most    assassin hid in our apartment be horror's least. the body    borrows a revolver    he bolts the door    o'erlooking a superior spectre    or more    671 she dwelleth in the ground    where daffodils    abide    her maker    her metropolis    the universe    her maid    to fetch her grace    and hue    and fairness    and renown    the firmament's    to pluck her    and fetch her thee    be mine    672 the future    never spoke    nor will he    like the dumb    reveal by sign    a syllable of his profound to come    but when the news be ripe    presents it    in the act    forestalling preparation    escape    or substitute    indifference to him    the dower    as the doom    his office    but to execute fate's    telegram    to him    673 the love a life can show below is but a filament, i know, of that diviner thing that faints upon the face of noon    and smites the tinder in the sun    and hinders gabriel's wing    'tis this    in music    hints and sways    and far abroad on summer days    distils uncertain pain    'tis this enamors in the east    and tints the transit in the west with harrowing iodine    'tis this    invites    appalls    endows    flits    glimmers    proves    dissolves    returns    suggests    convicts    enchants    then    flings in paradise    674 the soul that hath a guest doth seldom go abroad    diviner crowd at home    obliterate the need    and courtesy forbid a host's departure when upon himself be visiting the emperor of men    675 essential oils    are wrung    the attar from the rose be not expressed by suns    alone    it is the gift of screws    the general rose    decay    but this    in lady's drawer make summer    when the lady lie in ceaseless rosemary    676 least bee that brew    a honey's weight content her smallest fraction help the amber quantity    677 to be alive    is power    existence    in itself    without a further function    omnipotence    enough    to be alive    and will! 'tis able as a god    the maker    of ourselves    be what    such being finitude! 678 wolfe demanded during dying "which obtain the day"? "general, the british"    "easy" answered wolfe "to die" montcalm, his opposing spirit rendered with a smile "sweet" said he "my own surrender liberty's beguile" 679 conscious am i in my chamber, of a shapeless friend    he doth not attest by posture    nor confirm    by word    neither place    need i present him    fitter courtesy hospitable intuition of his company    presence    is his furthest license    neither he to me nor myself to him    by accent    forfeit probity    weariness of him, were quainter than monotony knew a particle    of space's vast society neither if he visit other    do he dwell    or nay    know i    but instinct esteem him immortality    680 each life converges to some centre    expressed    or still    exists in every human nature a goal    embodied scarcely to itself    it may be    too fair for credibility's presumption to mar    adored with caution    as a brittle heaven    to reach were hopeless, as the rainbow's raiment to touch    yet persevered toward    sure    for the distance    how high    unto the saint's slow diligence    the sky    ungained    it may be    by a life's low venture    but then    eternity enable the endeavoring again. 681 soil of flint, if steady tilled    will refund by hand    seed of palm, by libyan sun fructified in sand    682 'twould ease    a butterfly    elate    a bee    thou'rt neither    neither    thy capacity    but, blossom, were i, i would rather be thy moment than a bee's eternity    content of fading is enough for me    fade i unto divinity    and dying    lifetime    ample as the eye    her least attention raise on me    683 the soul unto itself is an imperial friend    or the most agonizing spy    an enemy    could send    secure against its own    no treason it can fear    itself    its sovereign    of itself the soul should stand in awe    684 best gains    must have the losses' test    to constitute them    gains    685 not "revelation"    'tis    that waits, but our unfurnished eyes    686 they say that "time assuages"    time never did assuage    an actual suffering strengthens as sinews do, with age    time is a test of trouble    but not a remedy    if such it prove, it prove too there was no malady    687 i'll send the feather from my hat! who knows    but at the sight of that my sovereign will relent? as trinket    worn by faded child    confronting eyes long    comforted    blisters the adamant! 688 "speech"    is a prank of parliament    "tears"    is a trick of the nerve    but the heart with the heaviest freight on    doesn't    always    move    689 the zeroes    taught us    phosphorous    we learned to like the fire by playing glaciers    when a boy    and tinder    guessed    by power of opposite    to balance odd    if white    a red    must be! paralysis    our primer    dumb    unto vitality! 690 victory comes late    and is held low to freezing lips    too rapt with frost to take it    how sweet it would have tasted    just a drop    was god so economical? his table's spread too high for us    unless we dine on tiptoe    crumbs    fit such little mouths    cherries    suit robbins    the eagle's golden breakfast strangles    them    god keep his oath to sparrows    who of little love    know how to starve    691 would you like summer? taste of ours. spices? buy here! ill! we have berries, for the parching! weary! furloughs of down! perplexed! estates of violet trouble ne'er looked on! captive! we bring reprieve of roses! fainting! flasks of air! even for death, a fairy medicine. but, which is it, sir? 692 the sun kept setting    setting    still no hue of afternoon    upon the village i perceived from house to house 'twas noon    the dusk kept dropping    dropping    still no dew upon the grass    but only on my forehead stopped    and wandered in my face    my feet kept drowsing    drowsing    still my fingers were awake    yet why so little sound    myself unto my seeming    make? how well i knew the light before    i could see it now    'tis dying    i am doing    but i'm not afraid to know    693 shells from the coast mistaking    i cherished them for all    happening in after ages to entertain a pearl    wherefore so late    i murmured    my need of thee    be done    therefore    the pearl responded    my period begin 694 the heaven vests for each in that small deity it craved the grace to worship some bashful summer's day    half shrinking from the glory it importuned to see till these faint tabernacles drop in full eternity    how imminent the venture    as one should sue a star    for his mean sake to leave the row and entertain despair    a clemency so common    we almost cease to fear    enabling the minutest    and furthest    to adore    695 as if the sea should part and show a further sea    and that    a further    and the three but a presumption be    of periods of seas    unvisited of shores    themselves the verge of seas to be    eternity    is those    696 their height in heaven comforts not    their glory    nought to me    'twas best imperfect    as it was    i'm finite    i can't see    the house of supposition    the glimmering frontier that skirts the acres of perhaps    to me    shows insecure    the wealth i had    contented me    if 'twas a meaner size    then i had counted it until it pleased my narrow eyes    better than larger values    that show however true    this timid life of evidence keeps pleading    "i don't know." 697 i could bring you jewels    had i a mind to    but you have enough    of those    i could bring you odors from st. domingo    colors    from vera cruz    berries of the bahamas    have i    but this little blaze flickering to itself    in the meadow    suits me    more than those    never a fellow matched this topaz    and his emerald swing    dower itself    for bobadilo    better    could i bring? 698 life    is what we make of it    death    we do not know    christ's acquaintance with him justify him    though    he    would trust no stranger    other    could betray    just his own endorsement    that    sufficeth me    all the other distance he hath traversed first    no new mile remaineth    far as paradise    his sure foot preceding    tender pioneer    base must be the coward dare not venture    now    699 the judge is like the owl    i've heard my father tell    and owls do build in oaks    so here's an amber sill    that slanted in my path    when going to the barn    and if it serve you for a house    itself is not in vain    about the price    'tis small    i only ask a tune at midnight    let the owl select his favorite refrain. 700 you've seen balloons set    haven't you? so stately they ascend    it is as swans    discarded you, for duties diamond    their liquid feet go softly out upon a sea of blonde    they spurn the air, as t'were too mean for creatures so renowned    their ribbons just beyond the eye    they struggle    some    for breath    and yet the crowd applaud, below    they would not encore    death    the gilded creature strains    and spins    trips frantic in a tree    tears open her imperial veins    and tumbles in the sea    the crowd    retire with an oath    the dust in streets    go down    and clerks in counting rooms observe    "'twas only a balloon"    701 a thought went up my mind today    that i have had before    but did not finish    some way back    i could not fix the year    nor where it went    nor why it came the second time to me    nor definitely, what it was    have i the art to say    but somewhere    in my soul    i know    i've met the thing before    it just reminded me    'twas all    and came my way no more    702 a first mute coming    in the stranger's house    a first fair going    when the bells rejoice    a first exchange    of what hath mingled    been    for lot    exhibited to faith    alone    703 out of sight? what of that? see the bird    reach it! curve by curve    sweep by sweep    round the steep air    danger! what is that to her? better 'tis to fail    there    than debate    here    blue is blue    the world through    amber    amber    dew    dew    seek    friend    and see    heaven is shy of earth    that's all    bashful heaven    thy lovers small    hide    too    from thee    704 no matter    now    sweet    but when i'm earl    won't you wish you'd spoken to that dull girl? trivial a word    just    trivial    a smile    but won't you wish you'd spared one when i'm earl? i shan't need it    then    crests    will do    eagles on my buckles    on my belt    too    ermine    my familiar gown    say    sweet    then won't you wish you'd smiled    just    me upon? 705 suspense    is hostiler than death    death    tho'soever broad, is just death, and cannot increase    suspense    does not conclude    but perishes    to live anew    but just anew to die    annihilation    plated fresh with immortality    706 life, and death, and giants    such as these    are still    minor    apparatus    hopper of the mill    beetle at the candle    or a fife's fame    maintain    by accident that they proclaim    707 the grace    myself    might not obtain    confer upon my flower    refracted but a countenance    for i    inhabit her    708 i sometimes drop it, for a quick    the thought to be alive    anonymous delight to know    and madder    to conceive    consoles a woe so monstrous that did it tear all day, without an instant's respite    'twould look too far    to die    709 publication    is the auction of the mind of man    poverty    be justifying for so foul a thing possibly    but we    would rather from our garret go white    unto the white creator    than invest    our snow    thought belong to him who gave it    then    to him who bear its corporeal illustration    sell the royal air    in the parcel    be the merchant of the heavenly grace    but reduce no human spirit to disgrace of price    710 the sunrise runs for both    the east    her purple troth keeps with the hill    the noon unwinds her blue till one breadth cover two    remotest    still    nor does the night forget a lamp for each    to set    wicks wide away    the north    her blazing sign erects in iodine    till both    can see    the midnight's dusky arms clasp hemispheres, and homes and so upon her bosom    one    and one upon her hem    both lie    711 strong draughts of their refreshing minds to drink    enables mine through desert or the wilderness as bore it sealed wine    to go elastic    or as one the camel's trait    attained    how powerful the stimulus of an hermetic mind    712 because i could not stop for death    he kindly stopped for me    the carriage held but just ourselves    and immortality. we slowly drove    he knew no haste and i had put away my labor and my leisure too, for his civility    we passed the school, where children strove at recess    in the ring    we passed the fields of gazing grain    we passed the setting sun    or rather    he passed us    the dews drew quivering and chill    for only gossamer, my gown    my tippet    only tulle    we paused before a house that seemed a swelling of the ground    the roof was scarcely visible    the cornice    in the ground    since then    'tis centuries    and yet feels shorter than the day i first surmised the horses' heads were toward eternity    713 fame of myself, to justify, all other plaudit be superfluous    an incense beyond necessity    fame of myself to lack    although my name be else supreme    this were an honor honorless    a futile diadem    714 rest at night the sun from shining, nature    and some men    rest at noon    some men    while nature and the sun    go on    715 the world    feels dusty when we stop to die    we want the dew    then    honors    taste dry    flags    vex a dying face    but the least fan stirred by a friend's hand    cools    like the rain    mine be the ministry when they thirst comes    and hybla balms    dews of thessaly, to fetch    716 the day undressed    herself    her garter    was of gold    her petticoat    of purple plain    her dimities    as old exactly    as the world    and yet the newest star    enrolled upon the hemisphere be wrinkled    much as her    too near to god    to pray    too near to heaven    to fear    the lady of the occident retired without a care    her candle so expire the flickering be seen on ball of mast in bosporus    and dome    and window pane    717 the beggar lad    dies early    it's somewhat in the cold    and somewhat in the trudging feet    and haply, in the world    the cruel    smiling    bowing world    that took its cambric way    nor heard the timid cry for "bread"    "sweet lady    charity"    among redeemed children if trudging feet may stand the barefoot time forgotten    so    the sleet    the bitter wind    the childish hands that teased for pence lifted adoring    them    to him whom never ragged    coat did supplicate in vain    718 i meant to find her when i came    death    had the same design    but the success    was his    it seems    and the surrender    mine    i meant to tell her how i longed for just this single time    but death had told her so the first    and she had past, with him    to wander    now    is my repose    to rest    to rest would be a privilege of hurricane to memory    and me. 719 a south wind    has a pathos of individual voice    as one detect on landings an emigrant's address. a hint of ports and peoples    and much not understood    the fairer    for the farness    and for the foreignhood. 720 no prisoner be    where liberty    himself    abide with thee    721 behind me    dips eternity    before me    immortality    myself    the term between    death but the drift of eastern gray, dissolving into dawn away, before the west begin    'tis kingdoms    afterward    they say    in perfect    pauseless monarchy    whose prince    is son of none    himself    his dateless dynasty    himself    himself diversify    in duplicate divine    'tis miracle before me    then    'tis miracle behind    between    a crescent in the sea    with midnight to the north of her    and midnight to the south of her    and maelstrom    in the sky    722 sweet mountains    ye tell me no lie    never deny me    never fly    those same unvarying eyes turn on me    when i fail    or feign, or take the royal names in vain    their far    slow    violet gaze    my strong madonnas    cherish still    the wayward nun    beneath the hill    whose service    is to you    her latest worship    when the day fades from the firmament away    to lift her brows on you    723 it tossed    and tossed    a little brig i knew    o'ertook by blast    it spun    and spun    and groped delirious, for morn    it slipped    and slipped    as one that drunken    stept    its white foot tripped    then dropped from sight    ah, brig    good night to crew and you    the ocean's heart too smooth    too blue    to break for you    724 it's easy to invent a life    god does it    every day    creation    but the gambol of his authority    it's easy to efface it    the thrifty deity could scarce afford eternity to spontaneity    the perished patterns murmur    but his perturbless plan proceed    inserting here    a sun    there    leaving out a man    725 where thou art    that    is home    cashmere    or calvary    the same    degree    or shame    i scarce esteem location's name    so i may come    what thou dost    is delight    bondage as play    be sweet    imprisonment    content    and sentence    sacrament    just we two    meet    where thou art not    is woe    tho' bands of spices    row    what thou dost not    despair    tho' gabriel    praise me    sire    726 we thirst at first    'tis nature's act    and later    when we die    a little water supplicate    of fingers going by    it intimates the finer want    whose adequate supply is that great water in the west    termed immortality    727 precious to me    she still shall be    though she forget the name i bear    the fashion of the gown i wear    the very color of my hair    so like the meadows    now    i dared to show a tress of theirs if haply    she might not despise a buttercup's array    i know the whole    obscures the part    the fraction    that appeased the heart till number's empery    remembered    as the millner's flower when summer's everlasting dower    confronts the dazzled bee. 728 let us play yesterday    i    the girl at school    you    and eternity    the untold tale    easing my famine at my lexicon    logarithm    had i    for drink    'twas a dry wine    somewhat different    must be    dreams tint the sleep    cunning reds of morning make the blind    leap    still at the egg life    chafing the shell    when you troubled the ellipse    and the bird fell    manacles be dim    they say    to the new free    liberty    commoner    never could    to me    'twas my last gratitude when i slept    at night    'twas the first miracle let in    with light    can the lark resume the shell    easier    for the sky    wouldn't bonds hurt more than yesterday? wouldn't dungeons sorer frate on the man    free    just long enough to taste    then    doomed new    god of the manacle as of the free    take not my liberty away from me    729 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    sir    i will    of you    730 defrauded i a butterfly    the lawful heir    for thee    731 "i want"    it pleaded    all its life    i want    was chief it said when skill entreated it    the last    and when so newly dead    i could not deem it late    to hear that single    steadfast sigh    the lips had placed as with a "please" toward eternity    732 she rose to his requirement    dropt the playthings of her life to take the honorable work of woman, and of wife    if ought she missed in her new day, of amplitude, or awe    or first prospective    or the gold in using, wear away, it lay unmentioned    as the sea develop pearl, and weed, but only to himself    be known the fathoms they abide    733 the spirit is the conscious ear. we actually hear when we inspect    that's audible    that is admitted    here    for other services    as sound    there hangs a smaller ear outside the castle    that contain    the other    only    hear    734 if he were living    dare i ask    and how if he be dead    and so around the words i went    of meeting them    afraid    i hinted changes    lapse of time    the surfaces of years    i touched with caution    lest they crack    and show me to my fears    reverted to adjoining lives    adroitly turning out wherever i suspected graves    'twas prudenter    i thought    and he    i pushed    with sudden force    in face of the suspense    "was buried"    "buried"! "he!" my life just holds the trench    735 upon concluded lives there's nothing cooler falls    than life's sweet calculations    the mixing bells and palls    make lacerating tune    to ears the dying side    'tis coronal    and funeral    saluting    in the road    736 have any like myself investigating march, new houses on the hill descried    and possibly a church    that were not, we are sure    as lately as the snow    and are today    if we exist    though how may this be so? have any like myself conjectured who may be the occupants of the adobes    so easy to the sky    'twould seem that god should be the nearest neighbor to    and heaven    a convenient grace for show, or company    have any like myself preserved the charm secure by shunning carefully the place all seasons of the year, excepting march    'tis then my villages be seen    and possibly a steeple    not afterward    by men    737 the moon was but a chin of gold a night or two ago    and now she turns her perfect face upon the world below    her forehead is of amplest blonde    her cheek    a beryl hewn    her eye unto the summer dew the likest i have known    her lips of amber never part    but what must be the smile upon her friend she could confer were such her silver will    and what a privilege to be but the remotest star    for certainty she take her way beside your palace door    her bonnet is the firmament    the universe    her shoe    the stars    the trinkets at her belt    her dimities    of blue    738 you said that i "was great"    one day    then "great" it be    if that please thee    or small    or any size at all    nay    i'm the size suit thee    tall    like the stag    would that? or lower    like the wren    or other heights of other ones i've seen? tell which    it's dull to guess    and i must be rhinoceros or mouse    at once    for thee    so say    if queen it be    or page    please thee    i'm that    or nought    or other thing    if other thing there be    with just this stipulus    i suit thee    739 i many times thought peace had come when peace was far away    as wrecked men    deem they sight the land    at centre of the sea    and struggle slacker    but to prove as hopelessly as i    how many the fictitious shores    before the harbor be    740 you taught me waiting with myself    appointment strictly kept    you taught me fortitude of fate    this    also    i have learnt    an altitude of death, that could no bitterer debar than life    had done    before it    yet    there is a science more    the heaven you know    to understand that you be not ashamed of me    in christ's bright audience upon the further hand    741 drama's vitallest expression is the common day that arise and set about us    other tragedy perish in the recitation    this    the best enact when the audience is scattered and the boxes shut    "hamlet" to himself were hamlet    had not shakespeare wrote    though the "romeo" left no record of his juliet, it were infinite enacted in the human heart    only theatre recorded owner cannot shut    742 four trees    upon a solitary acre    without design or order, or apparent action    maintain    the sun    upon a morning meets them    the wind    no nearer neighbor    have they    but god    the acre gives them    place    they    him    attention of passer by    of shadow, or of squirrel, haply    or boy    what deed is theirs unto the general nature    what plan they severally    retard    or further    unknown    743 the birds reported from the south    a news express to me    a spicy charge, my little posts    but i am deaf    today    the flowers    appealed    a timid throng    i reinforced the door    go blossom for the bees    i said    and trouble me    no more    the summer grace, for notice strove    remote    her best array    the heart    to stimulate the eye refused too utterly    at length, a mourner, like myself, she drew away austere    her frosts to ponder    then it was i recollected her    she suffered me, for i had mourned    i offered her no word    my witness    was the crape i bore    her    witness    was her dead    thenceforward    we    together dwelt    i never questioned her    our contract a wiser sympathy 744 remorse    is memory    awake    her parties all astir    a presence of departed acts    at window    and at door    its past    set down before the soul and lighted with a match    perusal    to facilitate    and help belief to stretch    remorse is cureless    the disease not even god    can heal    for 'tis his institution    and the adequate of hell    745 renunciation    is a piercing virtue    the letting go a presence    for an expectation    not now    the putting out of eyes    just sunrise    lest day    day's great progenitor    outvie renunciation    is the choosing against itself    itself to justify unto itself    when larger function    make that appear    smaller    that covered vision    here    746 never for society he shall seek in vain    who his own acquaintance cultivate    of men wiser men may weary    but the man within never knew satiety    better entertain than could border ballad    or biscayan hymn    neither introduction need you    unto him    747 it dropped so low    in my regard    i heard it hit the ground    and go to pieces on the stones at bottom of my mind    yet blamed the fate that flung it    less than i denounced myself, for entertaining plated wares upon my silver shelf    748 autumn    overlooked my knitting    dyes    said he    have i    could disparage a flamingo    show me them    said i    cochineal    i chose    for deeming it resemble thee    and the little border    dusker    for resembling me    749 all but death, can be adjusted    dynasties repaired    systems    settled in their sockets    citadels    dissolved    wastes of lives    resown with colors by succeeding springs    death    unto itself    exception    is exempt from change    750 growth of man    like growth of nature    gravitates within    atmosphere, and sun endorse it    bit it stir    alone    each    its difficult ideal must achieve    itself    through the solitary prowess of a silent life    effort    is the sole condition    patience of itself    patience of opposing forces    and intact belief    looking on    is the department of its audience    but transaction    is assisted by no countenance    751 my worthiness is all my doubt    his merit    all my fear    contrasting which, my quality do lowlier    appear    lest i should insufficient prove for his beloved need    the chiefest apprehension upon my thronging mind    'tis true    that deity to stoop inherently incline    for nothing higher than itself itself can rest upon    so i    the undivine abode of his elect content    conform my soul    as 'twere a church, unto her sacrament    752 so the eyes accost    and sunder in an audience    stamped    occasionally    forever    so may countenance entertain    without addressing countenance of one in a neighboring horizon    gone    as soon as known    753 my soul    accused me    and i quailed    as tongue of diamond had reviled all else accused me    and i smiled    my soul    that morning    was my friend    her favor    is the best disdain toward artifice of time    or men    but her disdain    'twere lighter bear a finger of enamelled fire    754 my life had stood    a loaded gun    in corners    till a day the owner passed    identified    and carried me away    and now we roam in sovereign woods    and now we hunt the doe    and every time i speak for him    the mountains straight reply    and do i smile, such cordial light upon the valley glow    it is as a vesuvian face had let its pleasure through    and when at night    our good day done    i guard my master's head    'tis better than the eider duck's deep pillow    to have shared    to foe of his    i'm deadly foe    none stir the second time    on whom i lay a yellow eye    or an emphatic thumb    though i than he    may longer live he longer must    than i    for i have but the power to kill, without    the power to die    755 no bobolink    reverse his singing when the only tree ever he minded occupying by the farmer be    clove to the root    his spacious future    best horizon    gone    whose music be his only anodyne    brave bobolink    756 one blessing had i than the rest so larger to my eyes that i stopped gauging    satisfied    for this enchanted size    it was the limit of my dream    the focus of my prayer    a perfect    paralyzing bliss    contented as despair    i knew no more of want    or cold    phantasms both become for this new value in the soul    supremest earthly sum    the heaven below the heaven above    obscured with ruddier blue    life's latitudes leant over    full    the judgment perished    too    why bliss so scantily disburse    why paradise defer    why floods be served to us    in bowls    i speculate no more    757 the mountains    grow unnoticed    their purple figures rise without attempt    exhaustion    assistance    or applause    in their eternal faces the sun    with just delight looks long    and last    and golden    for fellowship    at night    758 these    saw visions    latch them softly    these    held dimples    smooth them slow    this    addressed departing accents    quick    sweet mouth    to miss thee so    this    we stroked    unnumbered satin    these    we held among our own    fingers of the slim aurora    not so arrogant    this noon    these    adjust    that ran to meet us    pearl    for stocking    pearl for shoe    paradise    the only palace fit for her reception    now    759 he fought like those who've nought to lose    bestowed himself to balls as one who for a further life had not a further use    invited death    with bold attempt    but death was coy of him as other men, were coy of death    to him    to live    was doom    his comrades, shifted like the flakes when gusts reverse the snow    but he    was left alive because of greediness to die    760 most she touched me by her muteness    most she won me by the way she presented her small figure    plea itself    for charity    were a crumb my whole possession    were there famine in the land    were it my resource from starving    could i such a plea withstand    not upon her knee to thank me sank this beggar from the sky    but the crumb partook    departed    and returned on high    i supposed    when sudden such a praise began 'twas as space sat singing to herself    and men    'twas the winged beggar    afterward i learned to her benefactor making gratitude 761 from blank to blank    a threadless way i pushed mechanic feet    to stop    or perish    or advance    alike indifferent    if end i gained it ends beyond indefinite disclosed    i shut my eyes    and groped as well 'twas lighter    to be blind    762 the whole of it came not at once    'twas murder by degrees    a thrust    and then for life a chance    the bliss to cauterize    the cat reprieves the mouse she eases from her teeth just long enough for hope to tease    then mashes it to death    'tis life's award    to die    contenteder if once    than dying half    then rallying for consciouser eclipse    763 he told a homely tale and spotted it with tears    upon his infant face was set the cicatrice of years    all crumpled was the cheek no other kiss had known than flake of snow, divided with the redbreast of the barn    if mother    in the grave    or father    on the sea    or father in the firmament    or brethren, had he    if commonwealth below, or commonwealth above have missed a barefoot citizen    i've ransomed it    alive    764 presentiment    is that long shadow    on the lawn    indicatives that suns go down    the notice to the startled grass that darkness    is about to pass    765 you constituted time    i deemed eternity a revelation of yourself    'twas therefore deity the absolute    removed the relative away    that i unto himself adjust my slow idolatry    766 my faith is larger than the hills    so when the hills decay    my faith must take the purple wheel to show the sun the way    'tis first he steps upon the vane    and then    upon the hill    and then abroad the world he go to do his golden will    and if his yellow feet should miss    the bird would not arise    the flowers would slumber on their stems    no bells have paradise    how dare i, therefore, stint a faith on which so vast depends    lest firmament should fail for me    the rivet in the bands 767 to offer brave assistance to lives that stand alone    when one has failed to stop them    is human    but divine to lend an ample sinew unto a nameless man    whose homely benediction no other    stopped to earn    768 when i hoped, i recollect just the place i stood    at a window facing west    roughest air    was good    not a sleet could bite me    not a frost could cool    hope it was that kept me warm    not merino shawl    when i feared    i recollect just the day it was    worlds were lying out to sun    yet how nature froze    icicles upon my soul prickled blue and cool    bird went praising everywhere    only me    was still    and the day that i despaired    this    if i forget nature will    that it be night after sun has set    darkness intersect her face    and put out her eye    nature hesitate    before memory and i    769 one and one    are one    two    be finished using    well enough for schools    but for minor choosing    life    just    or death    or the everlasting    more    would be too vast for the soul's comprising    770 i lived on dread    to those who know the stimulus there is in danger    other impetus is numb    and vitalless    as 'twere a spur    upon the soul    a fear will urge it where to go without the sceptre's aid were challenging despair. 771 none can experience sting who bounty    have not known    the fact of famine    could not be except for fact of corn    want    is a meagre art acquired by reverse    the poverty that was not wealth    cannot be indigence. 772 the hallowing of pain like hallowing of heaven, obtains at a corporeal cost    the summit is not given to him who strives severe at middle of the hill    but he who has achieved the top    all    is the price of all    773 deprived of other banquet, i entertained myself    at first    a scant nutrition    an insufficient loaf    but grown by slender addings to so esteemed a size 'tis sumptuous enough for me    and almost to suffice a robin's famine able    red pilgrim, he and i    a berry from our table reserve    for charity    774 it is a lonesome glee    yet sanctifies the mind    with fair association    afar upon the wind a bird to overhear delight without a cause    arrestless as invisible    a matter of the skies. 775 if blame be my side    forfeit me    but doom me not to forfeit thee    to forfeit thee? the very name is sentence from belief    and house    776 the color of a queen, is this    the color of a sun at setting    this and amber    beryl    and this, at noon    and when at night    auroran widths fling suddenly on men    'tis this    and witchcraft    nature keeps a rank    for iodine    777 the loneliness one dare not sound    and would as soon surmise as in its grave go plumbing to ascertain the size    the loneliness whose worst alarm is lest itself should see    and perish from before itself for just a scrutiny    the horror not to be surveyed    but skirted in the dark    with consciousness suspended    and being under lock    i fear me this    is loneliness    the maker of the soul its caverns and its corridors illuminate    or seal    778 this that would greet    an hour ago    is quaintest distance    now    had it a guest from paradise    nor glow, would it, nor bow    had it a notice from the noon nor beam would it nor warm    match me the silver reticence    match me the solid calm    779 the service without hope    is tenderest, i think    because 'tis unsustained by stint    rewarded work    has impetus of gain    and impetus of goal    there is no diligence like that that knows not an until    780 the truth    is stirless    other force    may be presumed to move    this    then    is best for confidence    when oldest cedars swerve    and oaks untwist their fists    and mountains    feeble    lean    how excellent a body, that stands without a bone    how vigorous a force that holds without a prop    truth stays herself    and every man that trusts her    boldly up    781 to wait an hour    is long    if love be just beyond    to wait eternity    is short    if love reward the end    782 there is an arid pleasure    as different from joy    as frost is different from dew    like element    are they    yet one    rejoices flowers    and one    the flowers abhor    the finest honey    curdled    is worthless    to the bee    783 the birds begun at four o'clock    their period for dawn    a music numerous as space    but neighboring as noon    i could not count their force    their voices did expend as brook by brook bestows itself to multiply the pond. their witnesses were not    except occasional man    in homely industry arrayed    to overtake the morn    nor was it for applause    that i could ascertain    but independent ecstasy of deity and men    by six, the flood had done    no tumult there had been of dressing, or departure    and yet the band was gone    the sun engrossed the east    the day controlled the world    the miracle that introduced forgotten, as fulfilled. 784 bereaved of all, i went abroad    no less bereaved was i upon a new peninsula    the grave preceded me    obtained my lodgings, ere myself    and when i sought my bed    the grave it was reposed upon the pillow for my head    i waked to find it first awake    i rose    it followed me    i tried to drop it in the crowd    to lose it in the sea    in cups of artificial drowse to steep its shape away    the grave    was finished    but the spade remained in memory    785 they have a little odor    that to me is metre    nay    'tis melody    and spiciest at fading    indicate    a habit    of a laureate    786 severer service of myself i    hastened to demand to fill the awful vacuum your life had left behind    i worried nature with my wheels when hers had ceased to run    when she had put away her work my own had just begun. i strove to weary brain and bone    to harass to fatigue the glittering retinue of nerves    vitality to clog to some dull comfort those obtain who put a head away they knew the hair to    and forget the color of the day    affliction would not be appeased    the darkness braced as firm as all my stratagem had been the midnight to confirm    no drug for consciousness    can be    alternative to die is nature's only pharmacy for being's malady    787 such is the force of happiness    the least    can lift a ton assisted by its stimulus    who misery    sustain    no sinew can afford    the cargo of themselves    too infinite for consciousness' slow capabilities. 788 joy to have merited the pain    to merit the release    joy to have perished every step    to compass paradise    pardon    to look upon thy face    with these old fashioned eyes    better than new    could be    for that    though bought in paradise    because they looked on thee before    and thou hast looked on them    prove me    my hazel witnesses the features are the same    so fleet thou wert, when present    so infinite    when gone    an orient's apparition    remanded of the morn    the height i recollect    'twas even with the hills    the depth upon my soul was notched    as floods    on whites of wheels    to haunt    till time have dropped his last decade away, and haunting actualize    to last at least    eternity    789 on a columnar self    how ample to rely in tumult    or extremity    how good the certainty that lever cannot pry    and wedge cannot divide conviction    that granitic base    though none be on our side    suffice us    for a crowd    ourself    and rectitude    and that assembly    not far off from furthest spirit    god    790 nature    the gentlest mother is, impatient of no child    the feeblest    or the waywardest    her admonition mild    in forest    and the hill    by traveller    be heard    restraining rampant squirrel    or too impetuous bird    how fair her conversation    a summer afternoon    her household    her assembly    and when the sung go down    her voice among the aisles incite the timid prayer of the minutest cricket    the most unworthy flower    when all the children sleep    she turns as long away as will suffice to light her lamps    then bending from the sky    with infinite affection    and infiniter care    her golden finger on her lip    wills silence    everywhere    791 god gave a loaf to every bird    but just a crumb    to me    i dare not eat it    tho' i starve    my poignant luxury    to own it    touch it    prove the feat    that made the pellet mine    too happy    for my sparrow's chance    for ampler coveting    it might be famine    all around    i could not miss an ear    such plenty smiles upon my board    my garner shows so fair    i wonder how the rich    may feel    an indiaman    an earl    i deem that i    with but a crumb    am sovereign of them all    792 through the strait pass of suffering    the martyrs    even    trod. their feet    upon temptations    their faces    upon god    a stately    shriven    company    convulsion    playing round    harmless    as streaks of meteor    upon a planet's bond    their faith    the everlasting troth    their expectation    fair    the needle    to the north degree    wades    so    thro' polar air! 793 grief is a mouse    and chooses wainscot in the breast for his shy house    and baffles quest    grief is a thief    quick startled    pricks his ear    report to hear of that vast dark    that swept his being    back    grief is a juggler    boldest at the play    lest if he flinch    the eye that way pounce on his bruises    one    say    or three    grief is a gourmand    spare his luxury    best grief is tongueless    before he'll tell    burn him in the public square    his ashes    will possibly    if they refuse    how then know    since a rack couldn't coax a syllable    now. 794 a drop fell on the apple tree    another    on the roof    a half a dozen kissed the eaves    and made the gables laugh    a few went out to help the brook that went to help the sea    myself conjectured were they pearls    what necklace could be    the dust replaced, in hoisted roads    the birds jocoser sung    the sunshine threw his hat away    the bushes    spangles flung    the breezes brought dejected lutes    and bathed them in the glee    then orient showed a single flag, and signed the fete away    795 her final summer was it    and yet we guessed it not    if tenderer industriousness pervaded her, we thought a further force of life developed from within    when death lit all the shortness up it made the hurry plain    we wondered at our blindness when nothing was to see but her carrara guide post    at our stupidity    when duller than our dullness the busy darling lay    so busy was she    finishing    so leisurely    were we    796 who giants know, with lesser men are incomplete, and shy    for greatness, that is ill at ease in minor company    a smaller, could not be perturbed    the summer gnat displays    unconscious that his single fleet do not comprise the skies    797 by my window have i for scenery just a sea    with a stem    if the bird and the farmer    deem it a "pine"    the opinion will serve    for them    it has no port, nor a "line"    but the jays    that split their route to the sky    or a squirrel, whose giddy peninsula may be easier reached    this way    for inlands    the earth is the under side    and the upper side    is the sun    and its commerce    if commerce it have    of spice    i infer from the odors borne    of its voice    to affirm    when the wind is within    can the dumb    define the divine? the definition of melody    is    that definition is none    it    suggests to our faith    they    suggest to our sight    when the latter    is put away i shall meet with conviction i somewhere met that immortality    was the pine at my window a "fellow of the royal" infinity? apprehensions    are god's introductions    to be hallowed    accordingly    798 she staked her feathers    gained an arc    debated    rose again    this time    beyond the estimate of envy, or of men    and now, among circumference    her steady boat be seen    at home    among the billows    as the bough where she was born    799 despair's advantage is achieved by suffering    despair    to be assisted of reverse one must reverse have bore    the worthiness of suffering like the worthiness of death is ascertained by tasting    as can no other mouth of savors    make us conscious    as did ourselves partake    affliction feels impalpable until ourselves are struck    800 two    were immortal twice    the privilege of few    eternity    obtained    in time    reversed divinity    that our ignoble eyes the quality conceive of paradise superlative    through their comparative. 801 i play at riches    to appease the clamoring for gold    it kept me from a thief, i think, for often, overbold with want, and opportunity    i could have done a sin and been myself that easy thing an independent man    but often as my lot displays too hungry to be borne i deem myself what i would be    and novel comforting my poverty and i derive    we question if the man    who own    esteem the opulence    as we    who never can    should ever these exploring hands chance sovereign on a mine    or in the long    uneven term to win, become their turn    how fitter they will be    for want    enlightening so well    i know not which, desire, or grant    be wholly beautiful    802 time feels so vast that were it not for an eternity    i fear me this circumference engross my finity    to his exclusion, who prepare by processes of size for the stupendous vision of his diameters    803 who court obtain within himself sees every man a king    and poverty of monarchy is an interior thing    no man depose whom fate ordain    and who can add a crown to him who doth continual conspire against his own 804 no notice gave she, but a change    no message, but a sigh    for whom, the time did not suffice that she should specify. she was not warm, though summer shone nor scrupulous of cold though rime by rime, the steady frost upon her bosom piled    of shrinking ways    she did not fright though all the village looked    but held her gravity aloft    and met the gaze    direct    and when adjusted like a seed in careful fitted ground unto the everlasting spring and hindered but a mound her warm return, if so she chose    and we    imploring drew    removed our invitation by as some she never knew    805 this bauble was preferred of bees    by butterflies admired at heavenly    hopeless distances    was justified of bird    did noon    enamel    in herself was summer to a score who only knew of universe    it had created her. 806 a planted life    diversified with gold and silver pain to prove the presence of the ore in particles    'tis when a value struggle    it exist    a power    will proclaim although annihilation pile whole chaoses on him    807 expectation    is contentment    gain    satiety    but satiety    conviction of necessity of an austere trait in pleasure    good, without alarm is a too established fortune    danger    deepens sum    808 so set its sun in thee what day be dark to me    what distance    far    so i the ships may see that touch    how seldomly    thy shore? 809 unable are the loved to die for love is immortality, nay, it is deity    unable they that love    to die for love reforms vitality into divinity. 810 her grace is all she has    and that, so least displays    one art to recognize, must be, another art, to praise. 811 the veins of other flowers the scarlet flowers are till nature leisure has for terms as "branch," and "jugular." we pass, and she abides. we conjugate her skill while she creates and federates without a syllable. 812 a light exists in spring not present on the year at any other period    when march is scarcely here a color stands abroad on solitary fields that science cannot overtake but human nature feels. it waits upon the lawn, it shows the furthest tree upon the furthest slope you know it almost speaks to you. then as horizons step or noons report away without the formula of sound it passes and we stay    a quality of loss affecting our content as trade had suddenly encroached upon a sacrament. 813 this quiet dust was gentleman and ladies and lads and girls    was laughter and ability and sighing and frocks and curls. this passive place a summer's nimble mansion where bloom and bees exists an oriental circuit then cease, like these    814 one day is there of the series termed thanksgiving day. celebrated part at table part in memory. neither patriarch nor pussy i dissect the play seems it to my hooded thinking reflex holiday. had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum    not an acre or a caption where was once a room    not a mention, whose small pebble wrinkled any sea, unto such, were such assembly 'twere thanksgiving day. 815 the luxury to apprehend the luxury 'twould be to look at thee a single time an epicure of me in whatsoever presence makes till for a further food i scarcely recollect to starve so first am i supplied    the luxury to meditate the luxury it was to banguet on thy countenance a sumptuousness bestows on plainer days, whose table far as certainty can see is laden with a single crumb the consciousness of thee. 816 a death blow is a life blow to some who till they died, did not alive become    who had they lived, had died but when they died, vitality begun. 817 given in marriage unto thee oh thou celestial host    bride of the father and the son bride of the holy ghost. other betrothal shall dissolve    wedlock of will, decay    only the keeper of this ring conquer mortality    818 i could not drink it, sweet, till you had tasted first, though cooler than the water was the thoughtfullness of thirst. 819 all i may, if small, do it not display larger for the totalness    'tis economy to bestow a world and withhold a star    utmost, is munificence    less, tho' larger, poor. 820 all circumstances are the frame in which his face is set    all latitudes exist for his sufficient continent    the light his action, and the dark the leisure of his will    in him existence serve or set a force illegible. 821 away from home are some and i    an emigrant to be in a metropolis of homes is easy, possibly    the habit of a foreign sky we    difficult    acquire as children, who remain in face the more their feet retire. 822 this consciousness that is aware of neighbors and the sun will be the one aware of death and that itself alone is traversing the interval experience between and most profound experiment appointed unto men    how adequate unto itself its properties shall be itself unto itself and none shall make discovery. adventure most unto itself the soul condemned to be    attended by a single hound its own identity. 823 not that we did, shall be the test when act and will are done but what our lord infers we would had we diviner been    824 [first version] the wind begun to knead the grass    as women do a dough    he flung a hand full at the plain    a hand full at the sky    the leaves unhooked themselves from trees    and started all abroad    the dust did scoop itself like hands    and throw away the road    the wagons    quickened on the street    the thunders gossiped low    the lightning showed a yellow head    and then a livid toe    the birds put up the bars to nests    the cattle flung to barns    then came one drop of giant rain    and then, as if the hands that held the dams    had parted hold    the waters wrecked the sky    but overlooked my father's house    just quartering a tree    [second version] the wind begun to rock the grass with threatening tunes and low    he threw a menace at the earth    a menace at the sky. the leaves unhooked themselves from trees    and started all abroad the dust did scoop itself like hands and threw away the road. the wagons quickened on the streets the thunder hurried slow    the lightning showed a yellow beak and then a livid claw. the birds put up the bars to nests    the cattle fled to barns    there came one drop of giant rain and then as if the hands that held the dams had parted hold the waters wrecked the sky, but overlooked my father's house    just quartering a tree    825 an hour is a sea between a few, and me    with them would harbor be    826 love reckons by itself    alone    "as large as i"    relate the sun to one who never felt it blaze    itself is all the like it has    827 the only news i know is bulletins all day from immortality. the only shows i see    tomorrow and today    perchance eternity    the only one i meet is god    the only street    existence    this traversed if other news there be    or admirable show    i'll tell it you    828 the robin is the one that interrupt the morn with hurried    few    express reports when march is scarcely on    the robin is the one that overflow the noon with her cherubic quantity    an april but begun    the robin is the one that speechless from her nest submit that home    and certainty and sanctity, are best 829 ample make this bed    make this bed with awe    in it wait till judgment break excellent and fair. be its mattress straight    be its pillow round    let no sunrise' yellow noise interrupt this ground    830 to this world she returned. but with a tinge of that    a compound manner, as a sod espoused a violet, that chiefer to the skies than to himself, allied, dwelt hesitating, half of dust, and half of day, the bride. 831 dying! to be afraid of thee one must to thine artillery have left exposed a friend    than thine old arrow is a shot delivered straighter to the heart the leaving love behind. not for itself, the dust is shy, but, enemy, beloved be thy batteries divorce. fight sternly in a dying eye two armies, love and certainty and love and the reverse. 832 soto! explore thyself! therein thyself shalt find the "undiscovered continent"    no settler had the mind. 833 perhaps you think me stooping i'm not ashamed of that christ    stooped until he touched the grave    do those at sacrament commemorative dishonor or love annealed of love until it bend as low as death redignified, above? 834 before he comes we weigh the time! 'tis heavy and 'tis light. when he depart, an emptiness is the prevailing freight. 835 nature and god    i neither knew yet both so well knew me they startled, like executors of my identity. yet neither told    that i could learn    my secret as secure as herschel's private interest or mercury's affair    836 truth    is as old as god    his twin identity and will endure as long as he a co eternity    and perish on the day himself is borne away from mansion of the universe a lifeless deity. 837 how well i knew her not whom not to know has been a bounty in prospective, now next door to mine the pain. 838 impossibility, like wine exhilarates the man who tastes it; possibility is flavorless    combine a chance's faintest tincture and in the former dram enchantment makes ingredient as certainly as doom    839 always mine! no more vacation! term of light this day begun! failless as the fair rotation of the seasons and the sun. old the grace, but new the subjects    old, indeed, the east, yet upon his purple programme every dawn, is first. 840 i cannot buy it    'tis not sold    there is no other in the world    mine was the only one i was so happy i forgot to shut the door and it went out and i am all alone    if i could find it anywhere i would not mind the journey there though it took all my store but just to look it in the eye    "did'st thou?" "thou did'st not mean," to say, then, turn my face away. 841 a moth the hue of this haunts candles in brazil. nature's experience would make our reddest second pale. nature is fond, i sometimes think, of trinkets, as a girl. 842 good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! better, to be found, if one care to, that is, the fox fits the hound    good to know, and not tell, best, to know and tell, can one find the rare ear not too dull    843 i made slow riches but my gain was steady as the sun and every night, it numbered more than the preceding one all days, i did not earn the same but my perceiveless gain inferred the less by growing than the sum that it had grown. 844 spring is the period express from god. among the other seasons himself abide, but during march and april none stir abroad without a cordial interview with god. 845 be mine the doom    sufficient fame    to perish in her hand! 846 twice had summer her fair verdure proffered to the plain    twice a winter's silver fracture on the rivers been    two full autumns for the squirrel bounteous prepared    nature, had'st thou not a berry for thy wandering bird? 847 finite    to fail, but infinite to venture    for the one ship that struts the shore many's the gallant    overwhelmed creature nodding in navies nevermore    848 just as he spoke it from his hands this edifice remain    a turret more, a turret less dishonor his design    according as his skill prefer it perish, or endure    content, soe'er, it ornament his absent character. 849 the good will of a flower the man who would possess must first present certificate of minted holiness. 850 i sing to use the waiting my bonnet but to tie and shut the door unto my house no more to do have i till his best step approaching we journey to the day and tell each other how we sung to keep the dark away. 851 when the astronomer stops seeking for his pleiad's face    when the lone british lady forsakes the arctic race when to his covenant needle the sailor doubting turns    it will be amply early to ask what treason means. 852 apology for her be rendered by the bee    herself, without a parliament apology for me. 853 when one has given up one's life the parting with the rest feels easy, as when day lets go entirely the west the peaks, that lingered last remain in her regret as scarcely as the iodine upon the cataract. 854 banish air from air    divide light if you dare    they'll meet while cubes in a drop or pellets of shape fit films cannot annul odors return whole force flame and with a blonde push over your impotence flits steam. 855 to own the art within the soul the soul to entertain with silence as a company and festival maintain is an unfurnished circumstance possession is to one as an estate perpetual or a reduceless mine. 856 there is a finished feeling experienced at graves    a leisure of the future    a wilderness of size. by death's bold exhibition preciser what we are and the eternal function enabled to infer. 857 uncertain lease    develops lustre on time uncertain grasp, appreciation of sum    the shorter fate    is oftener the chiefest because inheritors upon a tenure prize    858 this chasm, sweet, upon my life i mention it to you, when sunrise through a fissure drop the day must follow too. if we demur, its gaping sides disclose as 'twere a tomb ourself am lying straight wherein the favorite of doom. when it has just contained a life then, darling, it will close and yet so bolder every day so turbulent it grows i'm tempted half to stitch it up with a remaining breath i should not miss in yielding, though to him, it would be death    and so i bear it big about my burial    before a life quite ready to depart can harass me no more    859 a doubt if it be us assists the staggering mind in an extremer anguish until it footing find. an unreality is lent, a merciful mirage that makes the living possible while it suspends the lives. 860 absence disembodies    so does death hiding individuals from the earth superposition helps, as well as love    tenderness decreases as we prove    861 split the lark    and you'll find the music    bulb after bulb, in silver rolled    scantilly dealt to the summer morning saved for your ear when lutes be old. loose the flood    you shall find it patent    gush after gush, reserved for you    scarlet experiment! sceptic thomas! now, do you doubt that your bird was true? 862 light is sufficient to itself    if others want to see it can be had on window panes some hours in the day. but not for compensation    it holds as large a glow to squirrel in the himmaleh precisely, as to you. 863 that distance was between us that is not of mile or main    the will it is that situates    equator    never can    864 the robin for the crumb returns no syllable but long records the lady's name in silver chronicle. 865 he outstripped time with but a bout, he outstripped stars and sun and then, unjaded, challenged god in presence of the throne. and he and he in mighty list unto this present, run, the larger glory for the less a just sufficient ring. 866 fame is the tine that scholars leave upon their setting names    the iris not of occident that disappears as comes    867 escaping backward to perceive the sea upon our place    escaping forward, to confront his glittering embrace    retreating up, a billow's height retreating blinded down our undermining feet to meet instructs to the divine. 868 they ask but our delight    the darlings of the soil and grant us all their countenance for a penurious smile. 869 because the bee may blameless hum for thee a bee do i become list even unto me. because the flowers unafraid may lift a look on thine, a maid alway a flower would be. nor robins, robins need not hide when thou upon their crypts intrude so wings bestow on me or petals, or a dower of buzz that bee to ride, or flower of furze i that way worship thee. 870 finding is the first act the second, loss, third, expedition for the "golden fleece" fourth, no discovery    fifth, no crew    finally, no golden fleece    jason    sham    too. 871 the sun and moon must make their haste    the stars express around for in the zones of paradise the lord alone is burned    his eye, it is the east and west    the north and south when he do concentrate his countenance like glow worms, flee away    oh poor and far    oh hindred eye that hunted for the day    the lord a candle entertains entirely for thee    872 as the starved maelstrom laps the navies as the vulture teased forces the broods in lonely valleys as the tiger eased by but a crumb of blood, fasts scarlet till he meet a man dainty adorned with veins and tissues and partakes    his tongue cooled by the morsel for a moment grows a fiercer thing till he esteem his dates and cocoa a nutrition mean i, of a finer famine deem my supper dry for but a berry of domingo and a torrid eye. 873 ribbons of the year    multitude brocade    worn to nature's party once then, as flung aside as a faded bead or a wrinkled pearl who shall charge the vanity of the maker's girl? 874 they won't frown always    some sweet day when i forget to tease    they'll recollect how cold i looked and how i just said "please." then they will hasten to the door to call the little girl who cannot thank them for the ice that filled the lisping full. 875 i stepped from plank to plank a slow and cautious way the stars about my head i felt about my feet the sea. i knew not but the next would be my final inch    this gave me that precarious gait some call experience. 876 it was a grave, yet bore no stone enclosed 'twas not of rail a consciousness its acre, and it held a human soul. entombed by whom, for what offence if home or foreign born    had i the curiosity 'twere not appeased of men till resurrection, i must guess denied the small desire a rose upon its ridge to sow or take away a briar. 877 each scar i'll keep for him instead i'll say of gem in his long absence worn a costlier one but every tear i bore were he to count them o'er his own would fall so more i'll mis sum them. 878 the sun is gay or stark according to our deed. if merry, he is merrier    if eager for the dead or an expended day he helped to make too bright his mighty pleasure suits us not it magnifies our freight 879 each second is the last perhaps, recalls the man just measuring unconsciousness the sea and spar between. to fail within a chance    how terribler a thing than perish from the chance's list before the perishing! 880 the bird must sing to earn the crumb what merit have the tune no breakfast if it guaranty the rose content may bloom to gain renown of lady's drawer but if the lady come but once a century, the rose superfluous become    881 i've none to tell me to but thee so when thou failest, nobody. it was a little tie    it just held two, nor those it held since somewhere thy sweet face has spilled beyond my boundary    if things were opposite    and me and me it were    that ebbed from thee on some unanswering shore    would'st thou seek so    just say that i the answer may pursue unto the lips it eddied through    so    overtaking thee    882 a shade upon the mind there passes as when on noon a cloud the mighty sun encloses remembering that some there be too numb to notice oh god why give if thou must take away the loved? 883 the poets light but lamps    themselves    go out    the wicks they stimulate    if vital light inhere as do the suns    each age a lens disseminating their circumference    884 as everywhere of silver with ropes of sand to keep it from effacing the track called land. 885 our little kinsmen    after rain in plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude the tepid ground upon. a needless life, it seemed to me until a little bird as to a hospitality advanced and breakfasted. as i of he, so god of me i pondered, may have judged, and left the little angle worm with modesties enlarged. 886 these tested our horizon    then disappeared as birds before achieving a latitude. our retrospection of them a fixed delight, but our anticipation a dice    a doubt    887 we outgrow love, like other things and put it in the drawer    till it an antique fashion shows    like costumes grandsires wore. 888 when i have seen the sun emerge from his amazing house    and leave a day at every door a deed, in every place    without the incident of fame or accident of noise    the earth has seemed to me a drum, pursued of little boys 889 crisis is a hair toward which the forces creep past which forces retrograde if it come in sleep to suspend the breath is the most we can ignorant is it life or death nicely balancing. let an instant push or an atom press or a circle hesitate in circumference it    may jolt the hand that adjusts the hair that secures eternity from presenting    here    890 from us she wandered now a year, her tarrying, unknown, if wilderness prevent her feet or that ethereal zone no eye hath seen and lived we ignorant must be    we only know what time of year we took the mystery. 891 to my quick ear the leaves    conferred    the bushes    they were bells    i could not find a privacy from nature's sentinels    in cave if i presumed to hide the walls    begun to tell    creation seemed a mighty crack    to make me visible    892 who occupies this house? a stranger i must judge since no one know his circumstance    'tis well the name and age are writ upon the door or i should fear to pause where not so much as honest dog approach encourages. it seems a curious town    some houses very old, some    newly raised this afternoon, were i compelled to build it should not be among inhabitants so still but where the birds assemble and boys were possible. before myself was born 'twas settled, so they say, a territory for the ghosts    and squirrels, formerly. until a pioneer, as settlers often do liking the quiet of the place attracted more unto    and from a settlement a capital has grown distinguished for the gravity of every citizen. the owner of this house a stranger he must be    eternity's acquaintances are mostly so    to me. 893 drab habitation of whom? tabernacle or tomb    or dome of worm    or porch of gnome    or some elf's catacomb? 894 of consciousness, her awful mate the soul cannot be rid    as easy the secreting her behind the eyes of god. the deepest hid is sighted first and scant to him the crowd    what triple lenses burn upon the escapade from god    895 a cloud withdrew from the sky superior glory be but that cloud and its auxiliaries are forever lost to me had i but further scanned had i secured the glow in an hermetic memory it had availed me now. never to pass the angel with a glance and a bow till i am firm in heaven is my intention now. 896 of silken speech and specious shoe a traitor is the bee his service to the newest grace present continually his suit a chance his troth a term protracted as the breeze continual ban propoundeth he continual divorce. 897 how fortunate the grave    all prizes to obtain    successful certain, if at last, first suitor not in vain. 898 how happy i was if i could forget to remember how sad i am would be an easy adversity but the recollecting of bloom keeps making november difficult till i who was almost bold lose my way like a little child and perish of the cold. 899 herein a blossom lies    a sepulchre, between    cross it, and overcome the bee    remain    'tis but a rind. 900 what did they do since i saw them? were they industrious? so many questions to put them have i the eagerness that could i snatch their faces that could their lips reply not till the last was answered should they start for the sky. not if their party were waiting, not if to talk with me were to them now, homesickness after eternity. not if the just suspect me and offer a reward would i restore my booty to that bold person, god    901 sweet, to have had them lost for news that they be saved    the nearer they departed us the nearer they, restored, shall stand to our right hand    most precious and the dead    next precious those that rose to go    then thought of us, and stayed. 902 the first day that i was a life i recollect it    how still    that last day that i was a life i recollect it    as well    'twas stiller    though the first was still    "twas empty    but the first was full    this    was my finallest occasion    but then my tenderer experiment toward men    "which choose i"? that    i cannot say    "which choose they"? question memory! 903 i hide myself within my flower, that fading from your vase, you, unsuspecting, feel for me    almost a loneliness. 904 had i not this, or this, i said, appealing to myself, in moment of prosperity    inadequate    were life    "thou hast not me, nor me"    it said, in moment of reverse    "and yet thou art industrious    no need    hadst thou    of us"? my need    was all i had    i said    the need did not reduce    because the food    exterminate    the hunger    does not cease    but diligence    is sharper    proportioned to the chance    to feed upon the retrograde    enfeebles    the advance    905 between my country    and the others    there is a sea    but flowers    negotiate between us    as ministry. 906 the admirations    and contempts    of time    show justest    through an open tomb    the dying    as it were a height reorganizes estimate and what we saw not we distinguish clear    and mostly    see not what we saw before    'tis compound vision    light    enabling light    the finite    furnished with the infinite    convex    and concave witness    back    toward time    and forward    toward the god of him    907 till death    is narrow loving    the scantest heart extant will hold you till your privilege of finiteness    be spent    but he whose loss procures you such destitution that your life too abject for itself thenceforward imitate    until    resemblance perfect    yourself, for his pursuit delight of nature    abdicate    exhibit love    somewhat    908 'tis sunrise    little maid    hast thou no station in the day? 'twas not thy wont, to hinder so    retrieve thine industry    'tis noon    my little maid    alas    and art thou sleeping yet? the lily    waiting to be wed    the bee    hast thou forgot? my little maid    'tis night    alas that night should be to thee instead of morning    had'st thou broached thy little plan to die    dissuade thee, if i could not, sweet, i might have aided    thee    909 i make his crescent fill or lack    his nature is at full or quarter    as i signify    his tides    do i control    he holds superior in the sky or gropes, at my command behind inferior clouds    or round a mist's slow colonnade    but since we hold a mutual disc    and front a mutual day    which is the despot, neither knows    nor whose    the tyranny    910 experience is the angled road preferred against the mind by    paradox    the mind itself    presuming it to lead quite opposite    how complicate the discipline of man    compelling him to choose himself his preappointed pain    911 too little way the house must lie from every human heart that holds in undisputed lease a white inhabitant    too narrow is the right between    too imminent the chance    each consciousness must emigrate and lose its neighbor once    912 peace is a fiction of our faith    the bells a winter night bearing the neighbor out of sound that never did alight. 913 and this of all my hopes this, is the silent end bountiful colored, my morning rose early and sere, its end never bud from a stem stepped with so gay a foot never a worm so confident bored at so brave a root 914 i cannot be ashamed because i cannot see the love you offer    magnitude reverses modesty and i cannot be proud because a height so high involves alpine requirements and services of snow. 915 faith    is the pierless bridge supporting what we see unto the scene that we do not    too slender for the eye it bears the soul as bold as it were rocked in steel with arms of steel at either side    it joins    behind the veil to what, could we presume the bridge would cease to be to our far, vacillating feet a first necessity. 916 his feet are shod with gauze    his helmet, is of gold, his breast, a single onyx with chrysophrase, inlaid. his labor is a chant    his idleness    a tune    oh, for a bee's experience of clovers, and of noon! 917 love    is anterior to life    posterior    to death    initial of creation, and the exponent of earth    918 only a shrine, but mine    i made the taper shine    madonna dim, to whom all feet may come, regard a nun    thou knowest every woe    needless to tell thee    so    but can'st thou do the grace next to it    heal? that looks a harder skill to us    still    just as easy, if it be thy will to thee    grant me    thou knowest, though, so why tell thee? 919 if i can stop one heart from breaking i shall not live in vain if i can ease one life the aching or cool one pain or help one fainting robin unto his nest again i shall not live in vain. 920 we can but follow to the sun    as oft as he go down he leave ourselves a sphere behind    'tis mostly    following    we go no further with the dust than to the earthen door    and then the panels are reversed    and we behold    no more. 921 if it had no pencil would it try mine    worn    now    and dull    sweet, writing much to thee. if it had no word, would it make the daisy, most as big as i was, when it plucked me? 922 those who have been in the grave the longest    those who begin today    equally perish from our practise    death is the other way    foot of the bold did least attempt it    it    is the white exploit    once to achieve, annuls the power once to communicate    923 how the waters closed above him we shall never know    how he stretched his anguish to us that    is covered too    spreads the pond her base of lilies bold above the boy whose unclaimed hat and jacket sum the history    924 love    is that later thing than death    more previous    than life    confirms it at its entrance    and usurps it    of itself    tastes death    the first    to hand the sting the second    to its friend    disarms the little interval    deposits him with god    then hovers    an inferior guard    lest this beloved charge need    once in an eternity    a smaller than the large    925 struck, was i, not yet by lightning    lightning    lets away power to perceive his process with vitality. maimed    was i    yet not by venture    stone of stolid boy    nor a sportsman's peradventure    who mine enemy? robbed    was i    intact to bandit    all my mansion torn    sun    withdrawn to recognition    furthest shining    done    yet was not the foe    of any    not the smallest bird in the nearest orchard dwelling be of me    afraid. most    i love the cause that slew me. often as i die its beloved recognition holds a sun on me    best    at setting    as is nature's    neither witnessed rise till the infinite aurora in the other's eyes. 926 patience    has a quiet outer    patience    look within    is an insect's futile forces infinites    between    'scaping one    against the other fruitlesser to fling    patience    is the smile's exertion through the quivering    927 absent place    an april day    daffodils a blow homesick curiosity to the souls that snow    drift may block within it deeper than without    daffodil delight but him it duplicate    928 the heart has narrow banks it measures like the sea in mighty    unremitting bass and blue monotony till hurricane bisect and as itself discerns its sufficient area the heart convulsive learns that calm is but a wall of unattempted gauze an instant's push demolishes a questioning    dissolves. 929 how far is it to heaven? as far as death this way    of river or of ridge beyond was no discovery. how far is it to hell? as far as death this way    how far left hand the sepulchre defies topography. 930 there is a june when corn is cut and roses in the seed    a summer briefer than the first but tenderer indeed as should a face supposed the grave's emerge a single noon in the vermilion that it wore affect us, and return    two seasons, it is said, exist    the summer of the just, and this of ours, diversified with prospect, and with frost    may not our second with its first so infinite compare that we but recollect the one the other to prefer? 931 noon    is the hinge of day    evening    the tissue door    morning    the east compelling the sill till all the world is ajar    932 my best acquaintances are those with whom i spoke no word    the stars that stated come to town esteemed me never rude although to their celestial call i failed to make reply    my constant    reverential face sufficient courtesy. 933 two travellers perishing in snow the forests as they froze together heard them strengthening each other with the words that heaven if heaven    must contain what either left behind and then the cheer too solemn grew for language, and the wind long steps across the features took that love had touched the morn with reverential hyacinth    the taleless days went on till mystery impatient drew and those they left behind led absent, were procured of heaven as those first furnished, said    934 that is solemn we have ended be it but a play or a glee among the garret or a holiday or a leaving home, or later, parting with a world we have understood for better still to be explained. 935 death leaves us homesick, who behind, except that it is gone are ignorant of its concern as if it were not born. through all their former places, we like individuals go who something lost, the seeking for is all that's left them, now    936 this dust, and its feature    accredited    today    will in a second future    cease to identify    this mind, and its measure    a too minute area for its enlarged inspection's comparison    appear    this world, and its species a too concluded show for its absorbed attention's remotest scrutiny    937 i felt a cleaving in my mind    as if my brain had split    i tried to match it    seam by seam    but could not make it fit. the thought behind, i strove to join unto the thought before    but sequence ravelled out of sound like balls    upon a floor. 938 fairer through fading    as the day into the darkness dips away    half her complexion of the sun    hindering    haunting    perishing    rallies her glow, like a dying friend    teasing with glittering amend    only to aggravate the dark through an expiring    perfect    look    939 what i see not, i better see    through faith    my hazel eye has periods of shutting    but, no lid has memory    for frequent, all my sense obscured i equally behold as someone held a light unto the features so beloved     and i arise    and in my dream    do thee distinguished grace    till jealous daylight interrupt    and mar thy perfectness    940 on that dear frame the years had worn yet precious as the house in which we first experienced light the witnessing, to us    precious! it was conceiveless fair as hands the grave had grimed should softly place within our own denying that they died. 941 the lady feeds her little bird at rarer intervals    the little bird would not dissent but meekly recognize the gulf between the hand and her and crumbless and afar and fainting, on her yellow knee fall softly, and adore    942 snow beneath whose chilly softness some that never lay make their first repose this winter i admonish thee blanket wealthier the neighbor we so new bestow than thine acclimated creature wilt thou, austere snow? 943 a coffin    is a small domain, yet able to contain a citizen of paradise in it diminished plane. a grave    is a restricted breadth    yet ampler than the sun    and all the seas he populates and lands he looks upon to him who on its small repose bestows a single friend    circumference without relief    or estimate    or end    944 i learned    at least    what home could be    how ignorant i had been of pretty ways of covenant    how awkward at the hymn round our new fireside    but for this    this pattern    of the way    whose memory drowns me, like the dip of a celestial sea    what mornings in our garden    guessed    what bees    for us    to hum    with only birds to interrupt the ripple of our theme    and task for both    when play be done    your problem    of the brain    and mine    some foolisher effect    a ruffle    or a tune    the afternoons    together spent    and twilight    in the lanes    some ministry to poorer lives    seen poorest    thro' our gains    and then return    and night    and home    and then away to you to pass    a new    diviner    care    till sunrise take us back to scene    transmuted    vivider    this seems a home    and home is not    but what that place could be    afflicts me    as a setting sun    where dawn    knows how to be    945 this is a blossom of the brain    a small    italic seed lodged by design or happening the spirit fructified    shy as the wind of his chambers swift as a freshet's tongue so of the flower of the soul its process is unknown. when it is found, a few rejoice the wise convey it home carefully cherishing the spot if other flower become. when it is lost, that day shall be the funeral of god, upon his breast, a closing soul the flower of our lord. 946 it is an honorable thought and make one lift one's hat as one met sudden gentlefolk upon a daily street that we've immortal place though pyramids decay and kingdoms, like the orchard flit russetly away 947 of tolling bell i ask the cause? "a soul has gone to heaven" i'm answered in a lonesome tone    is heaven then a prison? that bells should ring till all should know a soul had gone to heaven would seem to me the more the way a good news should be given. 948 'twas crisis    all the length had passed    that dull    benumbing time there is in fever or event    and now the chance had come    the instant holding in its claw the privilege to live or warrant to report the soul the other side the grave. the muscles grappled as with leads that would not let the will    the spirit shook the adamant    but could not make it feel. the second poised    debated    shot    another had begun    and simultaneously, a soul escaped the house unseen    949 under the light, yet under, under the grass and the dirt, under the beetle's cellar under the clover's root, further than arm could stretch were it giant long, further than sunshine could were the day year long, over the light, yet over, over the arc of the bird    over the comet's chimney    over the cubit's head, further than guess can gallop further than riddle ride    oh for a disc to the distance between ourselves and the dead! 950 the sunset stopped on cottages where sunset hence must be for treason not of his, but life's, gone westerly, today    the sunset stopped on cottages where morning just begun    what difference, after all, thou mak'st thou supercilious sun? 951 as frost is best conceived by force of its result    affliction is inferred by subsequent effect    if when the sun reveal, the garden keep the gash    if as the days resume the wilted countenance cannot correct the crease or counteract the stain    presumption is vitality was somewhere put in twain. 952 a man may make a remark    in itself    a quiet thing that may furnish the fuse unto a spark in dormant nature    lain    let us deport    with skill    let us discourse    with care    powder exists in charcoal    before it exists in fire. 953 a door just opened on a street    i    lost    was passing by    an instant's width of warmth disclosed    and wealth    and company. the door as instant shut    and i    i    lost    was passing by    lost doubly    but by contrast    most    informing    misery    954 the chemical conviction that nought be lost enable in disaster my fractured trust    the faces of the atoms if i shall see how more the finished creatures departed me! 955 the hollows round his eager eyes were pages where to read pathetic histories    although himself had not complained. biography to all who passed of unobtrusive pain except for the italic face endured, unhelped    unknown. 956 what shall i do when the summer troubles    what, when the rose is ripe    what when the eggs fly off in music from the maple keep? what shall i do when the skies a'chirrup drop a tune on me    when the bee hangs all noon in the buttercup what will become of me? oh, when the squirrel fills his pockets and the berries stare how can i bear their jocund faces thou from here, so far? 'twouldn't afflict a robin    all his goods have wings    i    do not fly, so wherefore my perennial things? 957 as one does sickness over in convalescent mind, his scrutiny of chances by blessed health obscured    as one rewalks a precipice and whittles at the twig that held him from perdition sown sidewise in the crag a custom of the soul far after suffering identity to question for evidence't has been    958 we met as sparks    diverging flints sent various    scattered ways    we parted as the central flint were cloven with an adze    subsisting on the light we bore before we felt the dark    a flint unto this day    perhaps    but for that single spark. 959 a loss of something ever felt i    the first that i could recollect bereft i was    of what i knew not too young that any should suspect a mourner walked among the children i notwithstanding went about as one bemoaning a dominion itself the only prince cast out    elder, today, a session wiser and fainter, too, as wiseness is    i find myself still softly searching for my delinguent palaces    and a suspicion, like a finger touches my forehead now and then that i am looking oppositely for the site of the kingdom of heaven    960 as plan for noon and plan for night so differ life and death in positive prospective    the foot upon the earth at distance, and achievement, strains, the foot upon the grave makes effort at conclusion assisted faint of love. 961 wert thou but ill    that i might show thee how long a day i could endure though thine attention stop not on me nor the least signal, me assure    wert thou but stranger in ungracious country    and mine    the door thou paused at, for a passing bounty    no more    accused    wert thou    and myself    tribunal    convicted    sentenced    ermine    not to me half the condition, thy reverse    to follow    just to partake    the infamy    the tenant of the narrow cottage, wert thou    permit to be the housewife in thy low attendance contenteth me    no service hast thou, i would not achieve it    to die    or live    the first    sweet, proved i, ere i saw thee    for life    be love    962 midsummer, was it, when they died    a full, and perfect time    the summer closed upon itself in consummated bloom    the corn, her furthest kernel filled before the coming flail    when these    leaned unto perfectness    through haze of burial    963 a nearness to tremendousness    an agony procures    affliction ranges boundlessness    vicinity to laws contentment's quiet suburb    affliction cannot stay in acres    its location is illocality    964 "unto me?" i do not know you    where may be your house? "i am jesus    late of judea    now    of paradise"    wagons    have you    to convey me? this is far from thence    "arms of mine    sufficient phaeton    trust omnipotence"    i am spotted    "i am pardon"    i am small    "the least is esteemed in heaven the chiefest    occupy my house"    965 denial    is the only fact perceived by the denied    whose will    a numb significance    the day the heaven died    and all the earth strove common round    without delight, or beam    what comfort was it wisdom    was    the spoiler of our home? 966 all forgot for recollecting just a paltry one    all forsook, for just a stranger's new accompanying    grace of wealth, and grace of station less accounted than an unknown esteem possessing    estimate    who can    home effaced    her faces dwindled    nature    altered small    sun    if shone    or storm    if shattered    overlooked i all    dropped    my fate    a timid pebble    in thy bolder sea    prove    me    sweet    if i regret it    prove myself    of thee    967 pain    expands the time    ages coil within the minute circumference of a single brain    pain contracts    the time    occupied with shot gamuts of eternities are as they were not    968 fitter to see him, i may be for the long hindrance    grace    to me    with summers, and with winters, grow, some passing year    a trait bestow to make me fairest of the earth    the waiting    then    will seem so worth i shall impute with half a pain the blame that i was chosen    then    time to anticipate his gaze    it's first    delight    and then    surprise    the turning o'er and o'er my face for evidence it be the grace    he left behind one day    so less he seek conviction, that    be this    i only must not grow so new that he'll mistake    and ask for me of me    when first unto the door i go    to elsewhere go no more    i only must not change so fair he'll sigh    "the other    she    is where?" the love, tho', will array me right i shall be perfect    in his sight    if he perceive the other truth    upon an excellenter youth    how sweet i shall not lack in vain    but gain    thro' loss    through grief    obtain    the beauty that reward him best    the beauty of demand    at rest    969 he who in himself believes    fraud cannot presume    faith is constancy's result    and assumes    from home    cannot perish, though it fail every second time    but defaced vicariously    for some other shame    970 color    caste    denomination    these    are time's affair    death's diviner classifying does not know they are    as in sleep    all hue forgotten    tenets    put behind    death's large    democratic fingers rub away the brand    if circassian    he is careless    if he put away chrysalis of blonde    or umber    equal butterfly    they emerge from his obscuring    what death    knows so well    our minuter intuitions    deem unplausible    971 robbed by death    but that was easy    to the failing eye i could hold the latest glowing    robbed by liberty for her jugular defences    this, too, i endured    hint of glory    it afforded    for the brave beloved    fraud of distance    fraud of danger, fraud of death    to bear    it is bounty    to suspense's vague calamity    stalking our entire possession on a hair's result    then    seesawing    coolly    on it    trying if it split    972 unfulfilled to observation    incomplete    to eye    but to faith    a revolution in locality    unto us    the suns extinguish    to our opposite    new horizons    they embellish    fronting us    with night. 973 'twas awkward, but it fitted me    an ancient fashioned heart    its only lore    its steadfastness    in change    unerudite    it only moved as do the suns    for merit of return    or birds    confirmed perpetual by alternating zone    i only have it not tonight in its established place    for technicality of death    omitted in the lease    974 the soul's distinct connection with immortality is best disclosed by danger or quick calamity    as lightning on a landscape exhibits sheets of place    not yet suspected    but for flash    and click    and suddenness. 975 the mountain sat upon the plain in his tremendous chair    his observation omnifold, his inquest, everywhere    the seasons played around his knees like children round a sire    grandfather of the days is he of dawn, the ancestor    976 death is a dialogue between the spirit and the dust. "dissolve" says death    the spirit "sir i have another trust"    death doubts it    argues from the ground    the spirit turns away just laying off for evidence an overcoat of clay. 977 besides this may we know there is another    how fair our speculations of the foreigner! some know him whom we knew    sweet wonder    a nature be where saints, and our plain going neighbor keep may! 978 it bloomed and dropt, a single noon    the flower    distinct and red    i, passing, thought another noon another in its stead will equal glow, and thought no more but came another day to find the species disappeared    the same locality    the sun in place    no other fraud on nature's perfect sum    had i but lingered yesterday    was my retrieveless blame    much flowers of this and further zones have perished in my hands for seeking its resemblance    but unapproached it stands    the single flower of the earth that i, in passing by unconscious was    great nature's face passed infinite by me    979 this merit hath the worst    it cannot be again    when fate hath taunted last and thrown her furthest stone    the maimed may pause, and breathe, and glance securely round    the deer attracts no further than it resists    the hound    980 purple    is fashionable twice    this season of the year, and when a soul perceives itself to be an emperor. 981 as sleigh bells seem in summer or bees, at christmas show    so fairy    so fictitious the individuals do repealed from observation    a party that we knew    more distant in an instant than dawn in timbuctoo. 982 no other can reduce our mortal consequence like the remembering it be nought a period from hence but contemplation for contemporaneous nought our single competition jehovah's estimate. 983 ideals are the fairly oil with which we help the wheel but when the vital axle turns the eye rejects the oil. 984 'tis anguish grander than delight 'tis resurrection pain    the meeting bands of smitten face we questioned to, again. 'tis transport wild as thrills the graves when cerements let go and creatures clad in miracle go up by two and two. 985 the missing all    prevented me from missing minor things. if nothing larger than a world's departure from a hinge    or sun's extinction, be observed    'twas not so large that i could lift my forehead from my work for curiosity. 986 a narrow fellow in the grass occasionally rides    you may have met him    did you not his notice sudden is    the grass divides as with a comb    a spotted shaft is seen    and then it closes at your feet and opens further on    he likes a boggy acre a floor too cool for corn    yet when a boy, and barefoot    i more than once at noon have passed, i thought, a whip lash unbraiding in the sun when stooping to secure it it wrinkled, and was gone    several of nature's people i know, and they know me    i feel for them a transport of cordiality    but never met this fellow attended, or alone without a tighter breathing and zero at the bone    987 the leaves like women interchange exclusive confidence    somewhat of nods and somewhat portentous inference. the parties in both cases enjoining secrecy    inviolable compact to notoriety. 988 the definition of beauty is that definition is none    of heaven, easing analysis, since heaven and he are one. 989 gratitude    is not the mention of a tenderness, but its still appreciation out of plumb of speech. when the sea return no answer by the line and lead proves it there's no sea, or rather a remoter bed? 990 not all die early, dying young    maturity of fate is consummated equally in ages, or a night    a hoary boy, i've known to drop whole statured    by the side of junior of fourscore    'twas act not period    that died. 991 she sped as petals of a rose offended by the wind    a frail aristocrat of time indemnity to find    leaving on nature    a default as cricket or as bee    but andes in the bosoms where she had begun to lie    992 the dust behind i strove to join unto the disk before    but sequence ravelled out of sound like balls upon a floor    993 we miss her, not because we see    the absence of an eye    except its mind accompany abridge society as slightly as the routes of stars    ourselves    asleep below    we know that their superior eyes include us    as they go    994 partake as doth the bee, abstemiously. the rose is an estate    in sicily. 995 this was in the white of the year    that    was in the green    drifts were as difficult then to think as daisies now to be seen    looking back is best that is left or if it be    before    retrospection is prospect's half, sometimes, almost more. 996 we'll pass without the parting so to spare certificate of absence    deeming where i left her i could find her if i tried    this way, i keep from missing those that died. 997 crumbling is not an instant's act a fundamental pause dilapidation's processes are organized decays. 'tis first a cobweb on the soul a cuticle of dust a borer in the axis an elemental rust    ruin is formal    devil's work consecutive and slow    fail in an instant, no man did slipping    is crash's law. 998 best things dwell out of sight the pearl    the just    our thought. most shun the public air legitimate, and rare    the capsule of the wind the capsule of the mind exhibit here, as doth a burr    germ's germ be where? 999 superfluous were the sun when excellence be dead he were superfluous every day for every day be said that syllable whose faith just saves it from despair and whose "i'll meet you" hesitates if love inquire "where"? upon his dateless fame our periods may lie as stars that drop anonymous from an abundant sky. 1000 the fingers of the light tapped soft upon the town with "i am great and cannot wait so therefore let me in." "you're soon," the town replied, "my faces are asleep    but swear, and i will let you by, you will not wake them up." the easy guest complied but once within the town the transport of his countenance awakened maid and man the neighbor in the pool upon his hip elate made loud obeisance and the gnat held up his cup for light. 1001 the stimulus, beyond the grave his countenance to see supports me like imperial drams afforded day by day. 1002 aurora is the effort of the celestial face unconsciousness of perfectness to simulate, to us. 1003 dying at my music! bubble! bubble! hold me till the octave's run! quick! burst the windows! ritardando! phials left, and the sun! 1004 there is no silence in the earth    so silent as that endured which uttered, would discourage nature and haunt the world. 1005 bind me    i still can sing    banish    my mandolin strikes true within    slay    and my soul shall rise chanting to paradise    still thine. 1006 the first we knew of him was death    the second    was    renown    except the first had justified the second had not been. 1007 falsehood of thee could i suppose 'twould undermine the sill to which my faith pinned block by block her cedar citadel. 1008 how still the bells in steeples stand till swollen with the sky they leap upon their silver feet in frantic melody! 1009 i was a phoebe    nothing more    a phoebe    nothing less    the little note that others dropt i fitted into place    i dwelt too low that any seek    too shy, that any blame    a phoebe makes a little print upon the floors of fame    1010 up life's hill with my my little bundle if i prove it steep    if a discouragement withhold me    if my newest step older feel than the hope that prompted    spotless be from blame heart that proposed as heart that accepted homelessness, for home    1011 she rose as high as his occasion then sought the dust    and lower lay in low westminster for her brief crest    1012 which is best? heaven    or only heaven to come with that old codicil of doubt? i cannot help esteem the "bird within the hand" superior to the one the "bush" may yield me or may not too late to choose again. 1013 too scanty 'twas to die for you, the merest greek could that. the living, sweet, is costlier    i offer even that    the dying, is a trifle, past, but living, this include the dying multifold    without the respite to be dead. 1014 did we abolish frost the summer would not cease    if seasons perish or prevail is optional with us    1015 were it but me that gained the height    were it but they, that failed! how many things the dying play might they but live, they would! 1016 the hills in purple syllables the day's adventures tell to little groups of continents just going home from school. 1017 to die    without the dying and live    without the life this is the hardest miracle propounded to belief. 1018 who saw no sunrise cannot say the countenance 'twould be. who guess at seeing, guess at loss of the ability. the emigrant of light, it is afflicted for the day. the blindness that beheld and blest    and could not find its eye. 1019 my season's furthest flower    i tenderer commend because i found her kinsmanless, a grace without a friend. 1020 trudging to eden, looking backward, i met somebody's little boy asked him his name    he lisped me "trotwood"    lady, did he belong to thee? would it comfort    to know i met him    and that he didn't look afraid? i couldn't weep    for so many smiling new acquaintance    this baby made    1021 far from love the heavenly father leads the chosen child, oftener through realm of briar than the meadow mild. oftener by the claw of dragon than the hand of friend guides the little one predestined to the native land. 1022 i knew that i had gained and yet i knew not how by diminution it was not but discipline unto a rigor unrelieved except by the content another bear its duplicate in other continent. 1023 it rises    passes    on our south inscribes a simple noon    cajoles a moment with the spires and infinite is gone    1024 so large my will the little that i may embarrasses like gentle infamy    affront to him for whom the whole were small affront to me who know his meed of all. earth at the best is but a scanty toy    bought, carried home to immortality. it looks so small we chiefly wonder then at our conceit in purchasing. 1025 the products of my farm are these sufficient for my own and here and there a benefit unto a neighbor's bin. with us, 'tis harvest all the year for when the frosts begin we just reverse the zodiac and fetch the acres in. 1026 the dying need but little, dear, a glass of water's all, a flower's unobtrusive face to punctuate the wall, a fan, perhaps, a friend's regret and certainty that one no color in the rainbow perceive, when you are gone. 1027 my heart upon a little plate her palate to delight a berry or a bun, would be, might it an apricot! 1028 'twas my one glory    let it be remembered i was owned of thee    1029 nor mountain hinder me nor sea    who's baltic    who's cordillera? 1030 that such have died enable us the tranquiller to die    that such have lived, certificate for immortality. 1031 fate slew him, but he did not drop    she felled    he did not fall    impaled him on her fiercest stakes    he neutralized them all    she stung him    sapped his firm advance    but when her worst was done and he    unmoved regarded her    acknowledged him a man. 1032 who is the east? the yellow man who may be purple if he can that carries in the sun. who is the west? the purple man who may be yellow if he can that lets him out again. 1033 said death to passion "give of thine an acre unto me." said passion, through contracting breaths "a thousand times thee nay." bore death from passion all his east he    sovereign as the sun resituated in the west and the debate was done. 1034 his bill an auger is his head, a cap and frill he laboreth at every tree a worm, his utmost goal. 1035 bee! i'm expecting you! was saying yesterday to somebody you know that you were due    the frogs got home last week    are settled, and at work    birds, mostly back    the clover warm and thick    you'll get my letter by the seventeenth; reply or better, be with me    yours, fly. 1036 satisfaction    is the agent of satiety    want    a quiet commissary for infinity. to possess, is past the instant we achieve the joy    immortality contented were anomaly. 1037 here, where the daisies fit my head 'tis easiest to lie and every grass that plays outside is sorry, some, for me. where i am not afraid to go i may confide my flower    who was not enemy of me will gentle be, to her. nor separate, herself and me by distances become    a single bloom we constitute departed, or at home    1038 her little parasol to lift and once to let it down her whole responsibility    to imitate be mine. a summer further i must wear, content if nature's drawer present me from sepulchral crease as blemishless, as her. 1039 i heard, as if i had no ear until a vital word came all the way from life to me and then i knew i heard. i saw, as if my eye were on another, till a thing and now i know 'twas light, because it fitted them, came in. i dwelt, as if myself, were out, my body but within until a might detected me and set my kernel in. and spirit turned unto the dust "old friend, thou knowest me," and time went out to tell the news and met eternity. 1040 not so the infinite relations    below division is adhesion's forfeit    on high affliction but a speculation    and woe a fallacy, a figment, we knew    1041 somewhat, to hope for, be it ne'er so far is capital against despair    somewhat, to suffer, be it ne'er so keen    if terminable, may be borne. 1042 spring comes on the world    i sight the aprils    hueless to me until thou come as, till the bee blossoms stand negative, touched to conditions by a hum. 1043 lest this be heaven indeed an obstacle is given that always gauges a degree between ourself and heaven. 1044 a sickness of this world it most occasions when best men die. a wishfulness their far condition to occupy. a chief indifference, as foreign a world must be themselves forsake    contented, for deity. 1045 nature rarer uses yellow than another hue. saves she all of that for sunsets prodigal of blue spending scarlet, like a woman yellow she affords only scantly and selectly like a lover's words. 1046 i've dropped my brain    my soul is numb    the veins that used to run stop palsied    'tis paralysis done perfecter on stone vitality is carved and cool. my nerve in marble lies    a breathing woman yesterday    endowed with paradise. not dumb    i had a sort that moved    a sense that smote and stirred    instincts for dance    a caper part    an aptitude for bird    who wrought carrara in me and chiselled all my tune were it a witchcraft    were it death    i've still a chance to strain to being, somewhere    motion    breath    though centuries beyond, and every limit a decade    i'll shiver, satisfied. 1047 the opening and the close of being, are alike or differ, if they do, as bloom upon a stalk. that from an equal seed unto an equal bud go parallel, perfected in that they have decayed. 1048 reportless subjects, to the quick continual addressed    but foreign as the dialect of danes, unto the rest. reportless measures, to the ear susceptive    stimulus    but like an oriental tale to others, fabulous    1049 pain has but one acquaintance and that is death    each one unto the other society enough. pain is the junior party by just a second's right    death tenderly assists him and then absconds from sight. 1050 as willing lid o'er weary eye the evening on the day leans till of all our nature's house remains but balcony 1051 i cannot meet the spring unmoved    i feel the old desire    a hurry with a lingering, mixed, a warrant to be fair    a competition in my sense with something hid in her    and as she vanishes, remorse i saw no more of her. 1052 i never saw a moor    i never saw the sea    yet know i how the heather looks and what a billow be. i never spoke with god nor visited in heaven    yet certain am i of the spot as if the checks were given    1053 it was a quiet way    he asked if i was his    i made no answer of the tongue but answer of the eyes    and then he bore me on before this mortal noise with swiftness, as of chariots and distance, as of wheels. this world did drop away as acres from the feet of one that leaneth from balloon upon an ether street. the gulf behind was not, the continents were new    eternity it was before eternity was due. no seasons were to us    it was not night nor morn    but sunrise stopped upon the place and fastened it in dawn. 1054 not to discover weakness is the artifice of strength    impregnability inheres as much through consciousness of faith of others in itself as pyramidal nerve behind the most unconscious clock what skilful pointers move    1055 the soul should always stand ajar that if the heaven inquire he will not be obliged to wait or shy of troubling her depart, before the host have slid the bolt unto the door    to search for the accomplished guest, her visitor, no more    1056 there is a zone whose even years no solstice interrupt    whose sun constructs perpetual noon whose perfect seasons wait    whose summer set in summer, till the centuries of june and centuries of august cease and consciousness    is noon. 1057 i had a daily bliss i half indifferent viewed till sudden i perceived it stir    it grew as i pursued till when around a height it wasted from my sight increased beyond my utmost scope i learned to estimate. 1058 bloom    is result    to meet a flower and casually glance would scarcely cause one to suspect the minor circumstance assisting in the bright affair so intricately done then offered as a butterfly to the meridian    to pack the bud    oppose the worm    obtain its right of dew    adjust the heat    elude the wind    escape the prowling bee great nature not to disappoint awaiting her that day    to be a flower, is profound responsibility    1059 sang from the heart, sire, dipped my beak in it, if the tune drip too much have a tint too red pardon the cochineal    suffer the vermillion    death is the wealth of the poorest bird. bear with the ballad    awkward    faltering    death twists the strings    'twasn't my blame    pause in your liturgies    wait your chorals    while i repeat your hallowed name    1060 air has no residence, no neighbor, no ear, no door, no apprehension of another oh, happy air! ethereal guest at e'en an outcast's pillow    essential host, in life's faint, wailing inn, later than light thy consciousness accost me till it depart, persuading mine    1061 three weeks passed since i had seen her    some disease had vext 'twas with text and village singing i beheld her next and a company    our pleasure to discourse alone    gracious now to me as any    gracious unto none    borne without dissent of either to the parish night    of the separated parties which be out of sight? 1062 he scanned it    staggered    dropped the loop to past or period    caught helpless at a sense as if his mind were going blind    groped up, to see if god was there    groped backward at himself caressed a trigger absently and wandered out of life. 1063 ashes denote that fire was    revere the grayest pile for the departed creature's sake that hovered there awhile    fire exists the first in light and then consolidates only the chemist can disclose into what carbonates. 1064 to help our bleaker parts salubrious hours are given which if they do not fir for earth drill silently for heaven    1065 let down the bars, oh death    the tired flocks come in whose bleating ceases to repeat whose wandering is done    thine is the stillest night thine the securest fold too near thou art for seeking thee too tender, to be told. 1066 fame's boys and girls, who never die and are too seldom born    1067 except the smaller size no lives are round    these    hurry to a sphere and show and end    the larger    slower grow and later hang    the summers of hesperides are long. 1068 further in summer than the birds pathetic from the grass a minor nation celebrates its unobtrusive mass. no ordinance be seen so gradual the grace a pensive custom it becomes enlarging loneliness. antiquest felt at noon when august burning low arise this spectral canticle repose to typify remit as yet no grace no furrow on the glow yet a druidic difference enhances nature now 1069 paradise is of the option. whosoever will own in eden notwithstanding adam and repeal. 1070 to undertake is to achieve be undertaking blent with fortitude of obstacle and toward encouragement that fine suspicion, natures must permitted to revere departed standards and the few criterion sources here 1071 perception of an object costs precise the object's loss    perception in itself a gain replying to its price    the object absolute    is nought    perception sets it fair and then upbraids a perfectness that situates so far    1072 title divine    is mine! the wife    without the sign! acute degree    conferred on me    empress of calvary! royal    all but the crown! betrothed    without the swoon god sends us women    when you    hold    garnet to garnet    gold    to gold    born    bridalled    shrouded    in a day    tri victory "my husband"    women say    stroking the melody    is this    the way? 1073 experiment to me is every one i meet if it contain a kernel? the figure of a nut presents upon a tree equally plausibly, but meat within, is requisite to squirrels, and to me. 1074 count not that far that can be had, though sunset lie between    nor that adjacent, that beside, is further than the sun. 1075 the sky is low    the clouds are mean. a travelling flake of snow across a barn or through a rut debates if it will go    a narrow wind complains all day how some one treated him nature, like us is sometimes caught without her diadem. 1076 just once! oh least request! could adamant refuse so small a grace so scanty put, such agonizing terms? would not a god of flint be conscious of a sigh as down his heaven dropt remote "just once" sweet deity? 1077 these are the signs to nature's inns    her invitation broad to whosoever famishing to taste her mystic bread    these are the rites of nature's house    the hospitality that opens with an equal width to beggar and to bee for sureties of her staunch estate her undecaying cheer the purple in the east is set and in the north, the star    1078 the bustle in a house the morning after death is solemnest of industries enacted upon earth    the sweeping up the heart and putting love away we shall not want to use again until eternity. 1079 the sun went down    no man looked on    the earth and i, alone, were present at the majesty    he triumphed, and went on    the sun went up    no man looked on    the earth and i and one a nameless bird    a stranger were witness for the crown    1080 when they come back    if blossoms do    i always feel a doubt if blossoms can be born again when once the art is out    when they begin, if robins may, i always had a fear i did not tell, it was their last experiment last year, when it is may, if may return, had nobody a pang lest in a face so beautiful he might not look again? if i am there    one does not know what party    one may be tomorrow, but if i am there i take back all i say    1081 superiority to fate is difficult to gain 'tis not conferred of any but possible to earn a pittance at a time until to her surprise the soul with strict economy subsist till paradise. 1082 revolution is the pod systems rattle from when the winds of will are stirred excellent is bloom but except its russet base every summer be the entomber of itself, so of liberty    left inactive on the stalk all its purple fled revolution shakes it for test if it be dead. 1083 we learn it in retreating how vast an one was recently among us    a perished sun endear in the departure how doubly more than all the golden presence it was    before    1084 at half past three, a single bird unto a silent sky propounded but a single term of cautious melody. at half past four, experiment had subjugated test and lo, her silver principle supplanted all the rest. at half past seven, element nor implement, be seen    and place was where the presence was circumference between. 1085 if nature smiles    the mother must i'm sure, at many a whim of her eccentric family    is she so much to blame? 1086 what twigs we held by    oh the view when life's swift river striven through we pause before a further plunge to take momentum    as the fringe upon a former garment shows the garment cast, our props disclose so scant, so eminently small of might to help, so pitiful to sink, if we had labored, fond the diligence were not more blind how scant, by everlasting light the discs that satisfied our sight    how dimmer than a saturn's bar the things esteemed, for things that are! 1087 we miss a kinsman more when warranted to see than when withheld of oceans from possibility a furlong than a league inflicts a pricklier pain, till we, who smiled at pyrenees    of parishes, complain. 1088 ended, ere it begun    the title was scarcely told when the preface perished from consciousness the story, unrevealed    had it been mine, to print! had it been yours, to read! that it was not our privilege the interdict of god    1089 myself can read the telegrams a letter chief to me the stock's advance and retrograde and what the markets say the weather    how the rains in counties have begun. 'tis news as null as nothing, but sweeter so    than none. 1090 i am afraid to own a body    i am afraid to own a soul    profound    precarious property    possession, not optional    double estate    entailed at pleasure upon an unsuspecting heir    duke in a moment of deathlessness and god, for a frontier. 1091 the well upon the brook were foolish to depend    let brooks    renew of brooks    but wells    of failless ground! 1092 it was not saint    it was too large    nor snow    it was too small    it only held itself aloof like something spiritual    1093 because 'twas riches i could own, myself had earned it    me, i knew the dollars by their names    it feels like poverty an earldom out of sight to hold, an income in the air, possession    has a sweeter chink unto a miser's ear    1094 themself are all i have    myself a freckled    be    i thought you'd choose a velvet cheek or one of ivory    would you    instead of me? 1095 to whom the mornings stand for nights, what must the midnights    be! 1096 these strangers, in a foreign world, protection asked of me    befriend them, lest yourself in heaven be found a refugee    1097 dew    is the freshet in the grass    'tis many a tiny mill turns unperceived beneath our feet and artisan lies still    we spy the forests and the hills the tents to nature's show mistake the outside for the in and mention what we saw. could commentators on the sign of nature's caravan obtain "admission" as a child some wednesday afternoon. 1098 of the heart that goes in, and closes the door shall the playfellow heart complain though the ring is unwhole, and the company broke can never be fitted again? 1099 my cocoon tightens    colors tease    i'm feeling for the air    a dim capacity for wings demeans the dress i wear    a power of butterfly must be    the aptitude to fly meadows of majesty implies and easy sweeps of sky    so i must baffle at the hint and cipher at the sign and make much blunder, if at least i take the clue divine    1100 the last night that she lived it was a common night except the dying    this to us made nature different we noticed smallest things    things overlooked before by this great light upon our minds italicized    as 'twere. as we went out and in between her final room and rooms where those to be alive tomorrow were, a blame that others could exist while she must finish quite a jealousy for her arose so nearly infinite    we waited while she passed    it was a narrow time    too jostled were our souls to speak at length the notice came. she mentioned, and forgot    then lightly as a reed bent to the water, struggled scarce    consented, and was dead    and we    we placed the hair    and drew the head erect    and then an awful leisure was belief to regulate    1101 between the form of life and life the difference is as big as liquor at the lip between and liquor in the jug the latter    excellent to keep    but for ecstatic need the corkless is superior    i know for i have tried 1102 his bill is clasped    his eye forsook    his feathers wilted low    the claws that clung, like lifeless gloves indifferent hanging now    the joy that in his happy throat was waiting to be poured gored through and through with death, to be assassin of a bird resembles to my outraged mind the firing in heaven, on angels    squandering for you their miracles of tune    1103 the spry arms of the wind if i could crawl between i have an errand imminent to an adjoining zone    i should not care to stop my process is not long the wind could wait without the gate or stroll the town among. to ascertain the house and is the soul at home and hold the wick of mine to it to light, and then return    1104 the crickets sang and set the sun and workmen finished one by one their seam the day upon. the low grass loaded with the dew the twilight stood, as strangers do with hat in hand, polite and new to stay as if, or go. a vastness, as a neighbor, came, a wisdom, without face, or name, a peace, as hemispheres at home and so the night became. 1105 like men and women shadows walk upon the hills today    with here and there a mighty bow or trailing courtesy to neighbors doubtless of their own not quickened to perceive minuter landscape as ourselves and boroughs where we live    1106 we do not know the time we lose    the awful moment is and takes its fundamental place among the certainties    a firm appearance still inflates the card    the chance    the friend    the spectre of solidities whose substances are sand    1107 the bird did prance    the bee did play    the sun ran miles away so blind with joy he could not choose between his holiday the morn was up    the meadows out the fences all but ran, republic of delight, i thought where each is citizen    from heavy laden lands to thee were seas to cross to come a caspian were crowded    too near thou art for fame    1108 a diamond on the hand to custom common grown subsides from its significance the gem were best unknown    within a seller's shrine how many sight and sigh and cannot, but are mad for fear that any other buy. 1109 i fit for them    i seek the dark till i am thorough fit. the labor is a sober one with this sufficient sweet that abstinence of mine produce a purer food for them, if i succeed, if not i had the transport of the aim    1110 none who saw it ever told it 'tis as hid as death had for that specific treasure a departing breath    surfaces may be invested did the diamond grow general as the dandelion would you serve it so? 1111 some wretched creature, savior take who would exult to die and leave for thy sweet mercy's sake another hour to me 1112 that this should feel the need of death the same as those that lived is such a feat of irony as never was    achieved    not satisfied to ape the great in his simplicity the small must die, as well as he    oh the audacity    1113 there is strength in proving that it can be borne although it tear    what are the sinews of such cordage for except to bear the ship might be of satin had it not to fight    to walk on seas requires cedar feet 1114 the largest fire ever known occurs each afternoon    discovered is without surprise proceeds without concern    consumes and no report to men an occidental town, rebuilt another morning to be burned down again. 1115 the murmuring of bees, has ceased but murmuring of some posterior, prophetic, has simultaneous come. the lower metres of the year when nature's laugh is done the revelations of the book whose genesis was june. appropriate creatures to her change the typic mother sends as accent fades to interval with separating friends till what we speculate, has been and thoughts we will not show more intimate with us become than persons, that we know. 1116 there is another loneliness that many die without    not want of friend occasions it or circumstances of lot but nature, sometimes, sometimes thought and whoso it befall is richer than could be revealed by mortal numeral    1117 a mine there is no man would own but must it be conferred, demeaning by exclusive wealth a universe beside    potosi never to be spent but hoarded in the mind what misers wring their hands tonight for indies in the ground! 1118 exhilaration is the breeze that lifts us from the ground and leaves us in another place whose statement is not found    returns us not, but after time we soberly descend a little newer for the term upon enchanted ground    1119 paradise is that old mansion many owned before    occupied by each an instant then reversed the door    bliss is frugal of her leases adam taught her thrift bankrupt once through his excesses    1120 this slow day moved along    i heard its axles go as if they could not hoist themselves they hated motion so    i told my soul to come    it was no use to wait    we went and played and came again and it was out of sight    1121 time does go on    i tell it gay to those who suffer now    they shall survive    there is a sun    they don't believe it now    1122 'tis my first night beneath the sun if i should spend it here    above him is too low a height for his barometer who airs of expectation breathes and takes the wind at prime    but distance his delights confides to those who visit him    1123 a great hope fell you heard no noise the ruin was within oh cunning wreck that told no tale and let no witness in the mind was built for mighty freight for dread occasion planned how often foundering at sea ostensibly, on land a not admitting of the wound until it grew so wide that all my life had entered it and there were troughs beside a closing of the simple lid that opened to the sun until the tender carpenter perpetual nail it down    1124 had we known the ton she bore we had helped the terror but she straighter walked for freight so be hers the error    1125 oh sumptuous moment slower go that i may gloat on thee    'twill never be the same to starve now i abundance see    which was to famish, then or now    the difference of day ask him unto the gallows led    with morning in the sky    1126 shall i take thee, the poet said to the propounded word? be stationed with the candidates till i have finer tried    the poet searched philology and when about to ring for the suspended candidate there came unsummoned in    that portion of the vision the word applied to fill not unto nomination the cherubim reveal    1127 soft as the massacre of suns by evening's sabres slain 1128 these are the nights that beetles love    from eminence remote drives ponderous perpendicular his figure intimate the terror of the children the merriment of men depositing his thunder he hoists abroad again    a bomb upon the ceiling is an improving thing    it keeps the nerves progressive conjecture flourishing    too dear the summer evening without discreet alarm    supplied by entomology with its remaining charm    1129 tell all the truth but tell it slant    success in circuit lies too bright for our infirm delight the truth's superb surprise as lightning to the children eased with explanation kind the truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind    1130 that odd old man is dead a year    we miss his stated hat. 'twas such an evening bright and stiff his faded lamp went out. who miss his antiquated wick    are any hoar for him? waits any indurated mate his wrinkled coming home? oh life, begun in fluent blood and consummated dull! achievement contemplating thee    feels transitive and cool. 1131 the merchant of the picturesque a counter has and sales but is within or negative precisely as the calls    to children he is small in price and large in courtesy    it suits him better than a check their artless currency    of counterfeits he is so shy do one advance so near as to behold his ample flight    1132 the smouldering embers blush    oh hearts within the coal hast thou survived so many years? the smouldering embers smile    soft stirs the news of light the stolid seconds glow one requisite has fire that lasts prometheus never knew    1133 the snow that never drifts    the transient, fragrant snow that comes a single time a year is softly driving now    so thorough in the tree at night beneath the star that it was february's foot experience would swear    like winter as a face we stern and former knew repaired of all but loneliness by nature's alibit    were every storm so spice the value could not be    we buy with contrast    pang is good as near as memory    1134 the wind took up the northern things and piled them in the south    then gave the east unto the west and opening his mouth the four divisions of the earth did make as to devour while everything to corners slunk behind the awful power    the wind    unto his chambers went and nature ventured out    her subjects scattered into place her systems ranged about again the smoke from dwellings rose the day abroad was heard    how intimate, a tempest past the transport of the bird    1135 too cold is this to warm with sun    too stiff to bended be, to joint this agate were a work    outstaring masonry    how went the agile kernel out contusion of the husk nor rip, nor wrinkle indicate but just an asterisk. 1136 the frost of death was on the pane    "secure your flower" said he. like sailors fighting with a leak we fought mortality. our passive flower we held to sea    to mountain    to the sun    yet even on his scarlet shelf to crawl the frost begun    we pried him back ourselves we wedged himself and her between, yet easy as the narrow snake he forked his way along till all her helpless beauty bent and then our wrath begun    we hunted him to his ravine we chased him to his den    we hated death and hated life and nowhere was to go    than sea and continent there is a larger    it is woe    1137 the duties of the wind are few, to cast the ships, at sea, establish march, the floods escort, and usher liberty. the pleasures of the wind are broad, to dwell extent among, remain, or wander, speculate, or forests entertain. the kinsmen of the wind are peaks azof    the equinox, also with bird and asteroid a bowing intercourse. the limitations of the wind do he exist, or die, too wise he seems for wakelessness, however, know not i. 1138 a spider sewed at night without a light upon an arc of white. if ruff it was of dame or shroud of gnome himself himself inform. of immortality his strategy was physiognomy. 1139 her sovereign people nature knows as well and is as fond of signifying as if fallible    1140 the day grew small, surrounded tight by early, stooping night    the afternoon in evening deep its yellow shortness dropt    the winds went out their martial ways the leaves obtained excuse    november hung his granite hat upon a nail of plush    1141 the face we choose to miss    be it but for a day as absent as a hundred years, when it has rode away. 1142 the props assist the house until the house is built and then the props withdraw and adequate, erect, the house support itself and cease to recollect the auger and the carpenter    just such a retrospect hath the perfected life    a past of plank and nail and slowness    then the scaffolds drop affirming it a soul. 1143 the work of her that went, the toil of fellows done    in ovens green our mother bakes, by fires of the sun. 1144 ourselves we do inter with sweet derision. the channel of the dust who once achieves invalidates the balm of that religion that doubts as fervently as it believes. 1145 in thy long paradise of light no moment will there be when i shall long for earthly play and mortal company    1146 when etna basks and purrs naples is more afraid than when she show her garnet tooth    security is loud    1147 after a hundred years nobody knows the place agony that enacted there motionless as peace weeds triumphant ranged strangers strolled and spelled at the lone orthography of the elder dead winds of summer fields recollect the way    instinct picking up the key dropped by memory    1148 after the sun comes out how it alters the world    waggons like messengers hurry about yesterday is old    all men meet as if each foreclosed a news    fresh as a cargo from batize nature's qualities    1149 i noticed people disappeared when but a little child    supposed they visited remote or settled regions wild    but did because they died a fact withheld the little child    1150 how many schemes may die in one short afternoon entirely unknown to those they most concern    the man that was not lost because by accident he varied by a ribbon's width from his accustomed route    the love that would not try because beside the door it must be competitions some unsuspecting horse was tied surveying his despair 1151 soul, take thy risk. with death to be were better than be not with thee 1152 tell as a marksman    were forgotten tell    this day endures ruddy as that coeval apple the tradition bears    fresh as mankind that humble story though a statelier tale grown in the repetition hoary scarcely would prevail    tell had a son    the ones that knew it need not linger here    those who did not to human nature tell would not bare his head in presence of the ducal hat    threatened for that with death    by gessler    tyranny bethought make of his only boy a target that surpasses death    stolid to love's supreme entreaty not forsook of faith    mercy of the almighty begging    tell his arrow sent    god it is said replies in person when the cry is meant    1153 through what transports of patience i reached the stolid bliss to breathe my blank without thee attest me this and this    by that bleak exultation i won as near as this thy privilege of dying abbreviate me this    1154 a full fed rose on meals of tint a dinner for a bee in process of the noon became   each bright mortality the forfeit is of creature fair itself, adored before submitting for our unknown sake to be esteemed no more    1155 distance    is not the realm of fox nor by relay of bird abated    distance is until thyself, beloved. 1156 lest any doubt that we are glad that they were born today whose having lived is held by us in noble holiday without the date, like consciousness or immortality    1157 some days retired from the rest in soft distinction lie the day that a companion came or was obliged to die 1158 best witchcraft is geometry to the magician's mind    his ordinary acts are feats to thinking of mankind. 1159 great streets of silence led away to neighborhoods of pause    here was no notice    no dissent no universe    no laws    by clocks, 'twas morning, and for night the bells at distance called    but epoch had no basis here for period exhaled. 1160 he is alive, this morning    he is alive    and awake    birds are resuming for him    blossoms    dress for his sake. bees    to their loaves of honey add an amber crumb him    to regale    me    only    motion, and am dumb. 1161 trust adjust her "peradventure"    phantoms entered "and not you." 1162 the life we have is very great. the life that we shall see surpasses it, we know, because it is infinity. but when all space has been beheld and all dominion shown the smallest human heart's extent reduces it to none. 1163 god made no act without a cause, nor heart without an aim, our inference is premature, our premises to blame. 1164 were it to be the last how infinite would be what we did not suspect was marked    our final interview. 1165 contained in this short life are magical extents the soul returning soft at night to steal securer thence as children strictest kept turn soonest to the sea whose nameless fathoms slink away beside infinity 1166 of paul and silas it is said there were in prison laid but when they went to take them out they were not there instead. security the same insures to our assaulted minds    the staple must be optional that an immortal binds. 1167 alone and in a circumstance reluctant to be told a spider on my reticence assiduously crawled and so much more at home than i immediately grew i felt myself a visitor and hurriedly withdrew revisiting my late abode with articles of claim i found it quietly assumed as a gymnasium where tax asleep and title off the inmates of the air perpetual presumption took as each were special heir    if any strike me on the street i can return the blow    if any take my property according to the law the statute is my learned friend but what redress can be for an offense nor here nor there so not in equity    that larceny of time and mind the marrow of the day by spider, or forbid it lord that i should specify. 1168 as old as woe    how old is that? some eighteen thousand years    as old as bliss how old is that they are of equal years together chiefest they ard found but seldom side by side from neither of them tho' he try can human nature hide 1169 lest they should come    is all my fear when sweet incarcerated here 1170 nature affects to be sedate upon occasion, grand but let our observation shut her practices extend to necromancy and the trades remote to understand behold our spacious citizen unto a juggler turned    1171 on the world you colored morning painted rose    idle his vermillion aimlessly crept the glows over realms of orchards i the day before conquered with the robin    misery, how fair till your wrinkled finger shored the sun away midnight's awful pattern in the goods of day    1172 the clouds their backs together laid the north begun to push the forests galloped till they fell the lightning played like mice the thunder crumbled like a stuff how good to be in tombs where nature's temper cannot reach nor missile ever comes 1173 the lightning is a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropt the awful cutlery of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed. 1174 there's the battle of burgoyne    over, every day, by the time that man and beast put their work away "sunset" sounds majestic    but that solemn war could you comprehend it you would chastened stare    1175 we like a hairbreadth 'scape it tingles in the mind far after act or accident like paragraphs of wind if we had ventured less the breeze were not so fine that reaches to our utmost hair its tentacles divine. 1176 we never know how high we are till we are asked to rise and then if we are true to plan our statures touch the skies    the heroism we recite would be a normal thing did not ourselves the cubits warp for fear to be a king    1177 a prompt    executive bird is the jay    bold as a bailiff's hymn    brittle and brief in quality    warrant in every line    sitting a bough like a brigadier confident and straight    much is the mien of him in march as a magistrate    1178 my god    he sees thee    shine thy best    fling up thy balls of gold till every cubit play with thee and every crescent hold    elate the acre at his feet    upon his atom swim    oh sun    but just a second's right in thy long race with him! 1179 of so divine a loss we enter but the gain, indemnity for loneliness that such a bliss has been. 1180 "remember me" implored the thief! oh hospitality! my guest "today in paradise" i give thee guaranty. that courtesy will fair remain when the delight is dust with which we cite this mightiest case of compensated trust. of all we are allowed to hope but affidavit stands that this was due where most we fear be unexpected friends. 1181 when i hoped i feared    since i hoped i dared everywhere alone as a church remain    spectre cannot harm    serpent cannot charm    he deposes doom who hath suffered him    1182 remembrance has a rear and front    'tis something like a house    it has a garret also for refuse and the mouse. besides the deepest cellar that ever mason laid    look to it by its fathoms ourselves be not pursued    1183 step lightly on this narrow spot    the broadest land that grows is not so ample as the breast these emerald seams enclose. step lofty, for this name be told as far as cannon dwell or flag subsist or fame export her deathless syllable. 1184 the days that we can spare are those a function die or friend or nature    stranded then in our economy our estimates a scheme    our ultimates a sham    we let go all of time without arithmetic of him    1185 a little dog that wags his tail and knows no other joy of such a little dog am i reminded by a boy who gambols all the living day without an earthly cause because he is a little boy i honestly suppose    the cat that in the corner dwells her martial day forgot the mouse but a tradition now of her desireless lot another class remind me who neither please nor play but not to make a "bit of noise" beseech each little boy    1186 too few the mornings be, too scant the nights. no lodging can be had for the delights that come to earth to stay, but no apartment find and ride away. 1187 oh shadow on the grass, art thou a step or not? go make thee fair my candidate my nominated heart    oh shadow on the grass while i delay to guess some other thou wilt consecrate    oh unelected face    1188 'twas fighting for his life he was    that sort accomplish well    the ordnance of vitality is frugal of its ball. it aims once    kills once    conquers once    there is no second war in that campaign inscrutable of the interior. 1189 the voice that stands for floods to me is sterile borne to some    the face that makes the morning mean glows impotent on them    what difference in substance lies that what is sum to me by other financiers be deemed exclusive property! 1190 the sun and fog contested the government of day    the sun took down his yellow whip and drove the fog away    1191 the pungent atom in the air admits of no debate    all that is named of summer days relinquished our estate    for what department of delight as positive are we as limit of dominion or dams    of ecstasy    1192 an honest tear is durabler than bronze    this cenotaph may each that dies    reared by itself    no deputy suffice    gratitude bears when obelisk decays 1193 all men for honor hardest work but are not known to earn    paid after they have ceased to work in infamy or urn    1194 somehow myself survived the night and entered with the day    that it be saved the saved suffice without the formula. henceforth i take my living place as one commuted led    a candidate for morning chance but dated with the dead. 1195 what we see we know somewhat be it but a little    what we don't surmise we do though it shows so fickle i shall vote for lands with locks granted i can pick 'em    transport's doubtful dividend patented by adam. 1196 to make routine a stimulus remember it can cease    capacity to terminate is a specific grace    of retrospect the arrow that power to repair departed with the torment become, alas, more fair    1197 i should not dare to be so sad so many years again    a load is first impossible when we have put it down    the superhuman then withdraws and we who never saw the giant at the other side begin to perish now. 1198 a soft sea washed around the house a sea of summer air and rose and fell the magic planks that sailed without a care    for captain was the butterfly for helmsman was the bee and an entire universe for the delighted crew. 1199 are friends delight or pain? could bounty but remain riches were good    but if they only stay ampler to fly away riches are sad. 1200 because my brook is fluent i know 'tis dry    because my brook is silent it is the sea    and startled at its rising i try to flee to where the strong assure me is "no more sea"    1201 so i pull my stockings off wading in the water for the disobedience' sake boy that lived for "or'ter" went to heaven perhaps at death and perhaps he didn't moses wasn't fairly used    ananias wasn't    1202 the frost was never seen    if met, too rapid passed, or in too unsubstantial team    the flowers notice first a stranger hovering round a symptom of alarm in villages remotely set but search effaces him till some retrieveless night our vigilance at waste the garden gets the only shot that never could be traced. unproved is much we know    unknown the worst we fear    of strangers is the earth the inn of secrets is the air    to analyze perhaps a philip would prefer but labor vaster than myself i find it to infer. 1203 the past is such a curious creature to look her in the face a transport may receipt us or a disgrace    unarmed if any meet her i charge him fly her faded ammunition might yet reply. 1204 whatever it is    she has tried it    awful father of love    is not ours the chastising    do not chastise the dove    not for ourselves, petition    nothing is left to pray    when a subject is finished    words are handed away    only lest she be lonely in thy beautiful house give her for her transgression license to think of us    1205 immortal is an ample word when what we need is by but when it leaves us for a time 'tis a necessity. of heaven above the firmest proof we fundamental know except for its marauding hand it had been heaven below. 1206 the show is not the show but they that go    menagerie to me my neighbor be    fair play    both went to see    1207 he preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow    the broad are too broad to define and of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar    the truth never flaunted a sign    simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence as gold the pyrites would shun    what confusion would cover the innocent jesus to meet so enabled a man! 1208 our own possessions    though our own    'tis well to hoard anew    remembering the dimensions of possibility. 1209 to disappear enhances    the man that runs away is tinctured for an instant with immortality but yesterday a vagrant    today in memory lain with superstitious value we tamper with "again" but "never" far as honor withdraws the worthless thing and impotent to cherish we hasten to adorn    of death the sternest function that just as we discern the excellence defies us    securest gathered then the fruit perverse to plucking, but leaning to the sight with the ecstatic limit of unobtained delight    1210 the sea said "come" to the brook    the brook said "let me grow"    the sea said "then you will be a sea    i want a brook    come now"! the sea said "go" to the sea    the sea said "i am he you cherished"    "learned waters    wisdom is stale    to me" 1211 a sparrow took a slice of twig and thought it very nice i think, because his empty plate was handed nature twice    invigorated, waded in all the deepest sky until his little figure was forfeited away    1212 a word is dead when it is said, some say. i say it just begins to live that day. 1213 we like march. his shoes are purple    he is new and high    makes he mud for dog and peddler. makes he forests dry. knows the adder tongue his coming and presents her spot    stands the sun so close and mighty that our minds are hot. news is he of all the others    bold it were to die with the blue birds exercising on his british sky.     we like march    his shoes are purple. he is new and high    makes he mud for dog and peddler    makes he forests dry    knows the adder's tongue his coming and begets her spot    stands the sun so close and mighty    that our minds are hot. news is he of all the others    bold it were to die with the blue birds buccaneering on his british sky    1214 we introduce ourselves to planets and to flowers but with ourselves have etiquettes embarrassments and awes 1215 i bet with every wind that blew till nature in chagrin employed a fact to visit me and scuttle my balloon    1216 a deed knocks first at thought and then    it knocks at will    that is the manufacturing spot and will at home and well it then goes out an act or is entombed so still that only to the ear of god its doom is audible    1217 fortitude incarnate here is laid away in the swift partitions of the awful sea    babble of the happy cavil of the bold hoary the fruition but the sea is old edifice of ocean thy tumultuous rooms suit me at a venture better than the tombs 1218 let my first knowing be of thee with morning's warming light    and my first fearing, lest unknowns engulf thee in the night    1219 now i knew i lost her    not that she was gone    but remoteness travelled on her face and tongue. alien, though adjoining as a foreign race    traversed she though pausing latitudeless place. elements unaltered    universe the same but love's transmigration    somehow this had come    henceforth to remember nature took the day i had paid so much for    his is penury not who toils for freedom or for family but the restitution of idolatry. 1220 of nature i shall have enough when i have entered these entitled to a bumble bee's familiarities. 1221 some we see no more, tenements of wonder occupy to us though perhaps to them simpler are the days than the supposition leave us to presume that oblique belief which we call conjecture grapples with a theme stubborn as sublime able as the dust to equip its feature adequate as drums to enlist the tomb. 1222 the riddle we can guess we speedily despise    not anything is stale so long as yesterday's surprise    1223 who goes to dine must take his feast or find the banquet mean    the table is not laid without till it is laid within. for pattern is the mind bestowed that imitating her our most ignoble services exhibit worthier. 1224 like trains of cars on tracks of plush i hear the level bee    a jar across the flowers goes their velvet masonry    withstands until the sweet assault their chivalry consumes    while he, victorious tilts away to vanquish other blooms. 1225 its hour with itself the spirit never shows. what terror would enthrall the street could countenance disclose the subterranean freight the cellars of the soul    thank god the loudest place he made is license to be still. 1226 the popular heart is a cannon first    subsequent a drum    bells for an auxiliary and an afterward of rum    not a tomorrow to know its name nor a past to stare    ditches for realms and a trip to jail for a souvenir    1227 my triumph lasted till the drums had left the dead alone and then i dropped my victory and chastened stole along to where the finished faces conclusion turned on me and then i hated glory and wished myself were they. what is to be is best descried when it has also been    could prospect taste of retrospect the tyrannies of men were tenderer    diviner the transitive toward. a bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead. 1228 so much of heaven has gone from earth that there must be a heaven if only to enclose the saints to affidavit given. the missionary to the mole must prove there is a sky location doubtless he would plead but what excuse have i? too much of proof affronts belief the turtle will not try unless you leave him    then return and he has hauled away. 1229 because he loves her we will pry and see if she is fair what difference is on her face from features others wear. it will not harm her magic pace that we so far behind    her distances propitiate as forests touch the wind not hoping for his notice vast but nearer to adore 'tis glory's far sufficiency that makes our trying poor. 1230 it came at last but prompter death had occupied the house    his pallid furniture arranged and his metallic peace    oh faithful frost that kept the date had love as punctual been delight had aggrandized the gate and blocked the coming in. 1231 somewhere upon the general earth itself exist today    the magic passive but extant that consecrated me    indifferent seasons doubtless play where i for right to be    would pay each atom that i am but immortality    reserving that but just to prove another date of thee    oh god of width, do not for us curtail eternity! 1232 the clover's simple fame remembered of the cow    is better than enameled realms of notability. renown perceives itself and that degrades the flower    the daisy that has looked behind has compromised its power    1233 had i not seen the sun i could have borne the shade but light a newer wilderness my wilderness has made    1234 if my bark sink 'tis to another sea    mortality's ground floor is immortality    1235 like rain it sounded till it curved and then i new 'twas wind    it walked as wet as any wave but swept as dry as sand    when it had pushed itself away to some remotest plain a coming as of hosts was heard it filled the wells, it pleased the pools it warbled in the road    it pulled the spigot from the hills and let the floods abroad    it loosened acres, lifted seas the sites of centres stirred then like elijah rode away upon a wheel of cloud. 1236 like time's insidious wrinkle on a beloved face we clutch the grace the tighter though we resent the crease the frost himself so comely dishevels every prime asserting from his prism that none can punish him 1237 my heart ran so to thee it would not wait for me and i affronted grew and drew away for whatsoe'er my pace he first achieve they face how general a grace allotted two    not in malignity mentioned i this to thee    had he obliquity soonest to share but for the greed of him    boasting my premium    basking in bethleem ere i be there    1238 power is a familiar growth    not foreign    not to be    beside us like a bland abyss in every company    escape it    there is but a chance    when consciousness and clay lean forward for a final glance    disprove that and you may    1239 risk is the hair that holds the tun seductive in the air    that tun is hollow    but the tun    with hundred weights    to spare    too ponderous to suspect the snare espies that fickle chair and seats itself to be let go by that perfidious hair    the "foolish tun" the critics say    while that delusive hair persuasive as perdition, decoys its traveller. 1240 the beggar at the door for fame were easily supplied but bread is that diviner thing disclosed to be denied 1241 the lilac is an ancient shrub but ancienter than that the firmamental lilac upon the hill tonight    the sun subsiding on his course bequeaths this final plant to contemplation    not to touch    the flower of occident. of one corolla is the west    the calyx is the earth    the capsules burnished seeds the stars the scientist of faith his research has but just begun    above his synthesis the flora unimpeachable to time's analysis    "eye hath not seen" may possibly be current with the blind but let not revelation by theses be detained    1242 to flee from memory had we the wings many would fly inured to slower things birds with surprise would scan the cowering van of men escaping from the mind of man 1243 safe despair it is that raves    agony is frugal. puts itself severe away for its own perusal. garrisoned no soul can be in the front of trouble    love is one, not aggregate    nor is dying double    1244 the butterfly's assumption gown in chrysoprase apartments hung this afternoon put on    how condescending to descend and be of buttercups the friend in a new england town    1245 the suburbs of a secret a strategist should keep, better than on a dream intrude to scrutinize the sleep. 1246 the butterfly in honored dust assuredly will lie but none will pass the catacomb so chastened as the fly    1247 to pile like thunder to its close then crumble grand away while everything created hid this    would be poetry    or love    the two coeval come    we both and neither prove    experience either and consume    for none see god and live    1248 the incidents of love are more than its events    investment's best expositor is the minute per cents    1249 the stars are old, that stood for me    the west a little worn    yet newer glows the only gold i ever cared to earn    presuming on that lone result her infinite disdain but vanquished her with my defeat 'twas victory was slain. 1250 white as an indian pipe red as a cardinal flower fabulous as a moon at noon february hour    1251 silence is all we dread. there's ransom in a voice    but silence is infinity. himself have not a face. 1252 like brooms of steel the snow and wind had swept the winter street    the house was hooked the sun sent out faint deputies of heat    where rode the bird the silence tied his ample    plodding steed the apple in the cellar snug was all the one that played. 1253 had this one day not been. or could it cease to be how smitten, how superfluous, were every other day! lest love should value less what loss would value more had it the stricken privilege, it cherishes before. 1254 elijah's wagon knew no thill was innocent of wheel elijah's horses as unique as was his vehicle    elijah's journey to portray expire with him the skill who justified elijah in feats inscrutable    1255 longing is like the seed that wrestles in the ground, believing if it intercede it shall at length be found. the hour, and the clime    each circumstance unknown, what constancy must be achieved before it see the sun! 1256 not any higher stands the grave for heroes than for men    not any nearer for the child than numb three score and ten    this latest leisure equal lulls the beggar and his queen propitiate this democrat a summer's afternoon    1257 dominion lasts until obtained    possession just as long    but these    endowing as they flit eternally belong. how everlasting are the lips known only to the dew    these are the brides of permanence supplanting me and you. 1258 who were "the father and the son" we pondered when a child, and what had they to do with us and when portentous told with inference appalling by childhood fortified we thought, at least they are no worse than they have been described. who are "the father and the son" did we demand today "the father and the son" himself would doubtless specify    but had they the felicity when we desired to know. we better friends had been, perhaps, than time ensue to be    we start    to learn that we believe but once    entirely    belief, it does not fit so well when altered frequently    we blush, that heaven if we achieve    event ineffable    we shall have shunned until ashamed to own the miracle    1259 a wind that rose though not a leaf in any forest stirred but with itself did cold engage beyond the realm of bird    a wind that woke a lone delight like separation's swell restored in arctic confidence to the invisible    1260 because that you are going and never coming back and i, however absolute, may overlook your track    because that death is final, however first it be, this instant be suspended above mortality    significance that each has lived the other to detect discovery not god himself could now annihilate eternity, presumption the instant i perceive that you, who were existence yourself forgot to live    the "life that is" will then have been a thing i never knew    as paradise fictitious until the realm of you    the "life that is to be," to me, a residence too plain unless in my redeemer's face i recognize your own    of immortality who doubts he may exchange with me curtailed by your obscuring face of everything but he    of heaven and hell i also yield the right to reprehend to whoso would commute this face for his less priceless friend. if "god is love" as he admits we think that me must be because he is a "jealous god" he tells us certainly if "all is possible with" him as he besides concedes he will refund us finally our confiscated gods    1261 a word dropped careless on a page may stimulate an eye when folded in perpetual seam the wrinkled maker lie infection in the sentence breeds we may inhale despair at distances of centuries from the malaria    1262 i cannot see my soul but know 'tis there nor ever saw his house nor furniture, who has invited me with him to dwell; but a confiding guest consult as well, what raiment honor him the most, that i be adequately dressed, for he insures to none lest men specified adorn procuring him perpetual drest by dating it a sudden feast. 1263 there is no frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing poetry    this travers may the poorest take without oppress of toll    how frugal is the chariot that bears the human soul. 1264 this is the place they hoped before, where i am hoping now. the seed of disappointment grew within a capsule gay, too distant to arrest the feet that walk this plank of balm    before them lies escapeless sea    the way is closed they came. 1265 the most triumphant bird i ever knew or met embarked upon a twig today and till dominion set i famish to behold so eminent a sight and sang for nothing scrutable but intimate delight. retired, and resumed his transitive estate    to what delicious accident does finest glory fit! 1266 when memory is full put on the perfect lid    this morning's finest syllable presumptuous evening said    1267 i saw that the flake was on it but plotted with time to dispute    "unchanged" i urged with a candor that cost me my honest heart    but "you"    she returned with valor sagacious of my mistake "have altered    accept the pillage for the progress' sake"    1268 confirming all who analyze in the opinion fair that eloquence is when the heart has not a voice to spare    1269 i worked for chaff and earning wheat was haughty and betrayed. what right had fields to arbitrate in matters ratified? i tasted wheat and hated chaff and thanked the ample friend    wisdom is more becoming viewed at distance than at hand. 1270 is heaven a physician? they say that he can heal    but medicine posthumous is unavailable    is heaven an exchequer? they speak of what we owe    but that negotiation i'm not a party to    1271 september's baccalaureate a combination is of crickets    crows    and retrospects and a dissembling breeze that hints without assuming    an innuendo sear that makes the heart put up its fun and turn philosopher. 1272 so proud she was to die it made us all ashamed that what we cherished, so unknown to her desire seemed    so satisfied to go where none of us should be immediately    that anguish stooped almost to jealousy    1273 that sacred closet when you sweep    entitled "memory"    select a reverential broom    and do it silently. 'twill be a labor of surprise    besides identity of other interlocutors a probability    august the dust of that domain    unchallenged    let it lie    you cannot supersede itself but it can silence you    1274 the bone that has no marrow, what ultimate for that? it is not fit for table for beggar or for cat. a bone has obligations    a being has the same    a marrowless assembly is culpabler than shame. but how shall finished creatures a function fresh obtain? old nicodemus' phantom confronting us again! 1275 the spider as an artist has never been employed    though his surpassing merit is freely certified by every broom and bridget throughout a christian land    neglected son of genius i take thee by the hand    1276 'twas later when the summer went than when the cricket came    and yet we knew that gentle clock meant nought but going home    'twas sooner when the cricket went than when the winter came yet that pathetic pendulum keeps esoteric time. 1277 while we were fearing it, it came    but came with less of fear because that fearing it so long had almost made it fair    there is a fitting    a dismay    a fitting    a despair 'tis harder knowing it is due than knowing it is here. they trying on the utmost the morning it is new is terribler than wearing it a whole existence through. 1278 the mountains stood in haze    the valleys stopped below and went or waited as they liked the river and the sky. at leisure was the sun    his interests of fire a little from remark withdrawn    the twilight spoke the spire, so soft upon the scene the act of evening fell we felt how neighborly a thing was the invisible. 1279 the way to know the bobolink from every other bird precisely as the joy of him    obliged to be inferred. of impudent habiliment attired to defy, impertinence subordinate at times to majesty. of sentiments seditious amenable to law    as heresies of transport or puck's apostacy. extrinsic to attention too intimate with joy    he compliments existence until allured away by seasons or his children    adult and urgent grown    or unforeseen aggrandizement or, happily, renown    by contrast certifying the bird of birds is gone    how nullified the meadow    her sorcerer withdrawn! 1280 the harm of years is on him    the infamy of time    depose him like a fashion and give dominion room. forget his morning forces    the glory of decay is a minuter pageant than least vitality. 1281 a stagnant pleasure like a pool that lets its rushes grow until they heedless tumble in and make the water slow impeding navigation bright of shadows going down yet even this shall rouse itself when freshets come along. 1282 art thou the thing i wanted? begone    my tooth has grown    supply the minor palate that has not starved so long    i tell thee while i waited the mystery of food increased till i abjured it and dine without like god       art thou the thing i wanted? begone    my tooth has grown    affront a minor palate thou could'st not goad so long    i tell thee while i waited    the mystery of food increased till i abjured it subsisting now like god    1283 could hope inspect her basis her craft were done    has a fictitious charter or it has none    balked in the vastest instance but to renew    felled by but one assassin    prosperity    1284 had we our senses but perhaps 'tis well they're not at home so intimate with madness he's liable with them had we the eyes without our head    how well that we are blind    we could not look upon the earth    so utterly unmoved    1285 i know suspense    it steps so terse and turns so weak away    besides    suspense is neighborly when i am riding by    is always at the window though lately i descry and mention to my horses the need is not of me    1286 i thought that nature was enough till human nature came but that the other did absorb as parallax a flame    of human nature just aware there added the divine brief struggle for capacity the power to contain is always as the contents but give a giant room and you will lodge a giant and not a smaller man 1287 in this short life that only lasts an hour how much    how little    is within our power 1288 lain in nature    so suffice us the enchantless pod when we advertise existence for the missing seed    maddest heart that god created cannot move a sod pasted by the simple summer on the longed for dead 1289 left in immortal youth on that low plain that hath nor retrospection nor again    ransomed from years    sequestered from decay canceled like dawn in comprehensive day    1290 the most pathetic thing i do is play i hear from you    i make believe until my heart almost believes it too but when i break it with the news you knew it was not true i wish i had not broken it    goliah    so would you    1291 until the desert knows that water grows his sands suffice but let him once suspect that caspian fact sahara dies utmost is relative    have not or have adjacent sums enough    the first abode on the familiar road galloped in dreams    1292 yesterday is history, 'tis so far away    yesterday is poetry    'tis philosophy    yesterday is mystery    where it is today while we shrewdly speculate flutter both away 1293 the things we thought that we should do we other things have done but those peculiar industries have never been begun    the lands we thought that we should seek when large enough to run by speculation ceded to speculation's son    the heaven, in which we hoped to pause when discipline was done untenable to logic but possibly the one    1294 of life to own    from life to draw    but never tough the reservoir    1295 two lengths has every day    its absolute extent and area superior by hope or horror lent    eternity will be velocity or pause at fundamental signals from fundamental laws. to die is not to go    on doom's consummate chart no territory new is staked    remain thou as thou art. 1296 death's waylaying not the sharpest of the thefts of time    there marauds a sorer robber, silence    is his name    no assault, nor any menace doth betoken him. but from life's consummate cluster    he supplants the balm. 1297 go slow, my soul, to feed thyself upon his rare approach    go rapid, lest competing death prevail upon the coach    go timid, should his final eye determine thee amiss    go boldly    for thou paid'st his price redemption    for a kiss    1298 the mushroom is the elf of plants    at evening, it is not    at morning, in a truffled hut it stop upon a spot as if it tarried always and yet its whole career is shorter than a snake's delay and fleeter than a tare    'tis vegetation's juggler    the germ of alibi    doth like a bubble antedate and like a bubble, hie    i feel as if the grass was pleased to have it intermit    this surreptitious scion of summer's circumspect. had nature any supple face or could she one contemn    had nature an apostate    that mushroom    it is him! 1299 delight's despair at setting is that delight is less than the sufficing longing that so impoverish. enchantment's perihelion mistaken oft has been for the authentic orbit of its anterior sun. 1300 from his slim palace in the dust he relegates the realm, more loyal for the exody that has befallen him. 1301 i cannot want it more    i cannot want it less    my human nature's fullest force expends itself on this. and yet it nothing is to him who easy owns    is worth itself or distance he fathoms who obtains. 1302 i think that the root of the wind is water    it would not sound so deep were it a firmamental product    airs no oceans keep    mediterranean intonations    to a current's ear    there is a maritime conviction in the atmosphere    1303 not one by heaven defrauded stay    although he seem to steal he restitutes in some sweet way secreted in his will    1304 not with a club, the heart is broken nor with a stone    a whip so small you could not see it i've known to lash the magic creature till it fell, yet that whip's name too noble then to tell. magnanimous as bird by boy descried    singing unto the stone of which it died    shame need not crouch in such an earth as ours    shame    stand erect    the universe is yours. 1305 recollect the face of me when in thy felicity, due in paradise today guest of mine assuredly    other courtesies have been    other courtesy may be    we commend ourselves to thee paragon of chivalry. 1306 surprise is like a thrilling    pungent    upon a tasteless meat alone    too acrid    but combined an edible delight. 1307 that short    potential stir that each can make but once    that bustle so illustrious 'tis almost consequence    is the eclat of death    oh, thou unknown renown that not a beggar would accept had he the power to spurn    1308 the day she goes or day she stays are equally supreme    existence has a stated width departed, or at home    1309 the infinite a sudden guest has been assumed to be    but how can that stupendous come which never went away? 1310 the notice that is called the spring is but a month from here    put up my heart thy hoary work and take a rosy chair. not any house the flowers keep    the birds enamor care    our salary the longest day is nothing but a bier. 1311 this dirty    little    heart is freely mine. i won it with a bun    a freckled shrine    but eligibly fair to him who sees the visage of the soul and not the knees. 1312 to break so vast a heart required a blow as vast    no zephyr felled this cedar straight    'twas undeserved blast    1313 warm in her hand these accents lie while faithful and afar the grace so awkward for her sake its fond subjection wear    1314 when a lover is a beggar abject is his knee    when a lover is an owner different is he    what he begged is then the beggar    oh disparity    bread of heaven resents bestowal like an obloquy    1315 which is the best    the moon or the crescent? neither    said the moon    that is best which is not    achieve it    you efface the sheen. not of detention is fruition    shudder to attain. transport's decomposition follows    he is prism born. 1316 winter is good    his hoar delights italic flavor yield to intellects inebriate with summer, or the world    generic as a quarry and hearty    as a rose    invited with asperity but welcome when he goes. 1317 abraham to kill him    was distinctly told    isaac was an urchin    abraham was old    not a hesitation    abraham complied    flattered by obeisance tyranny demurred    isaac    to his children lived to tell the tale    moral    with a mastiff manners may prevail. 1318 frigid and sweet her parting face    frigid and fleet my feet    alien and vain whatever clime acrid whatever fate. given to me without the suit riches and name and realm    who was she to withhold from me penury and home? 1319 how news must feel when travelling if news have any heart alighting at the dwelling 'twill enter like a dart! what news must think when pondering if news have any thought concerning the stupendousness of its perceiveless freight! what news will do when every man shall comprehend as one and not in all the universe a thing to tell remain? 1320 dear march    come in    how glad i am    i hoped for you before    put down your hat    you must have walked    how out of breath you are    dear march, come right up the stairs with me    i have so much to tell    i got your letter, and the birds    the maples never knew that you were coming    till i called i declare    how red their faces grew    but march, forgive me    and all those hills you left for me to hue    there was no purple suitable    you took it all with you    who knocks? that april. lock the door    i will not be pursued    he stayed away a year to call when i am occupied    but trifles look so trivial as soon as you have come that blame is just as dear as praise and praise as mere as blame    1321 elizabeth told essex that she could not forgive the clemency of deity however    might survive    that secondary succor we trust that she partook when suing    like her essex for a reprieving look    1322 floss won't save you from an abyss but a rope will    notwithstanding a rope for a souvenir is not beautiful    but i tell you every step is a trough    and every stop a well    now will you have the rope or the floss? prices reasonable    1323 i never hear that one is dead without the chance of life afresh annihilating me that mightiest belief, too mighty for the daily mind that tilling its abyss, had madness, had it once or twice the yawning consciousness, beliefs are bandaged, like the tongue when terror were it told in any tone commensurate would strike us instant dead i do not know the man so bold he dare in lonely place that awful stranger consciousness deliberately face    1324 i send you a decrepit flower that nature sent to me at parting    she was going south and i designed to stay    her motive for the souvenir if sentiment for me or circumstances prudential withheld invincibly    1325 knock with tremor    these are caesars    should they be at home flee as if you trod unthinking on the foot of doom    these receded to accostal centuries ago    should they rend you with "how are you" what have you to show? 1326 our little secrets slink away    beside god's shall not tell    he kept his word a trillion years and might we not as well    but for the niggardly delight to make each other stare is there no sweet beneath the sun with this that may compare    1327 the symptom of the gale    the second of dismay    between its rumor and its face    is almost revelry    the houses firmer root    the heavens cannot be found    the upper surfaces of things take covert in the ground    the mem'ry of the sun not any can recall    although by nature's sterling watch so scant an interval    and when the noise is caught and nature looks around    "we dreamed it"? she interrogates    "good morning"    we propound? 1328 the vastest earthly day is shrunken small by one defaulting face behind a pall    1329 whether they have forgotten or are forgetting now or never remembered    safer not to know    miseries of conjecture are a softer woe than a fact of iron hardened with i know    1330 without a smile    without a throe a summer's soft assemblies go to their entrancing end unknown    for all the times we met    estranged, however intimate    what a dissembling friend    1331 wonder    is not precisely knowing and not precisely knowing not    a beautiful but bleak condition he has not lived who has not felt    suspense    is his maturer sister    whether adult delight is pain or of itself a new misgiving    this is the gnat that mangles men    1332 pink    small    and punctual    aromatic    low    covert    in april    candid    in may    dear to the moss    known to the knoll    next to the robin in every human soul    bold little beauty bedecked with thee nature forswears antiquity    1333 a little madness in the spring is wholesome even for the king, but god be with the clown    who ponders this tremendous scene    this whole experiment of green    as if it were his own! 1334 how soft this prison is how sweet these sullen bars no despot but the king of down invented this repose of fate if this is all has he no added realm a dungeon but a kinsman is incarceration    home. 1335 let me not mar that perfect dream by an auroral stain but so adjust my daily night that it will come again. not when we know, the power accosts    the garment of surprise was all our timid mother wore at home    in paradise. 1336 nature assigns the sun    that    is astronomy    nature cannot enact a friend    that    is astrology. 1337 upon a lilac sea to toss incessantly his plush alarm who fleeing from the spring the spring avenging fling to dooms of balm 1338 what tenements of clover are fitting for the bee, what edifices azure for butterflies and me    what residences nimble arise and evanesce without a rhythmic rumor or an assaulting guess. 1339 a bee his burnished carriage drove boldly to a rose    combinedly alighting    himself    his carriage was    the rose received his visit with frank tranquillity withholding not a crescent to his cupidity    their moment consummated    remained for him    to flee    remained for her    of rapture but the humility. 1340 a rat surrendered here a brief career of cheer and fraud and fear. of ignominy's due let all addicted to beware. the most obliging trap its tendency to snap cannot resist    temptation is the friend repugnantly resigned at last. 1341 unto the whole    how add? has "all" a further realm    or utmost an ulterior? oh, subsidy of balm! 1342 "was not" was all the statement. the unpretension stuns    perhaps    the comprehension    they wore no lexicons    but lest our speculation in inanition die because "god took him" mention    that was philology    1343 a single clover plank was all that saved a bee a bee i personally knew from sinking in the sky    'twixt firmament above and firmament below the billows of circumference were sweeping him away    the idly swaying plank responsible to nought a sudden freight of wind assumed and bumble bee was not    this harrowing event transpiring in the grass did not so much as wring from him a wandering "alas"    1344 not any more to be lacked    not any more to be known    denizen of significance for a span so worn    even nature herself has forgot it is there    sedulous of her multitudes notwithstanding despair    of the ones that pursued it suing it not to go some have solaced the longing to accompany    some    rescinded the wrench    others    shall i say plated the residue of adz with monotony. 1345 an antiquated grace becomes that cherished face as well as prime enjoining us to part we and our pouting heart good friends with time 1346 as summer into autumn slips and yet we sooner say "the summer" than "the autumn," lest we turn the sun away, and almost count it an affront the presence to concede of one however lovely, not the one that we have loved    so we evade the charge of years on one attempting shy the circumvention of the shaft of life's declivity. 1347 escape is such a thankful word i often in the night consider it unto myself no spectacle in sight escape    it is the basket in which the heart is caught when down some awful battlement the rest of life is dropt    'tis not to sight the savior    it is to be the saved    and that is why i lay my head upon this trusty word    1348 lift it    with the feathers not alone we fly    launch it    the aquatic not the only sea    advocate the azure to the lower eyes    he has obligation who has paradise    1349 i'd rather recollect a setting than own a rising sun though one is beautiful forgetting    and true the other one. because in going is a drama staying cannot confer to die divinely once a twilight    than wane is easier    1350 luck is not chance    it's toil    fortune's expensive smile is earned    the father of the mine is that old fashioned coin we spurned    1351 you cannot take itself from any human soul    that indestructible estate enable him to dwell    impregnable as light that every man behold but take away as difficult as undiscovered gold    1352 to his simplicity to die    was little fate    if duty live    contented but her confederate. 1353 the last of summer is delight    deterred by retrospect. 'tis ecstasy's revealed review    enchantment's syndicate. to meet it    nameless as it is    without celestial mail    audacious as without a knock to walk within the veil. 1354 the heart is the capital of the mind    the mind is a single state    the heart and the mind together make a single continent    one    is the population    numerous enough    this ecstatic nation seek    it is yourself. 1355 the mind lives on the heart like any parasite    if that is full of meat the mind is fat. but if the heart omit emaciate the wit    the aliment of it so absolute. 1356 the rat is the concisest tenant. he pays no rent. repudiates the obligation    on schemes intent balking our wit to sound or circumvent    hate cannot harm a foe so reticent    neither decree prohibit him    lawful as equilibrium. 1357 "faithful to the end" amended from the heavenly clause    constancy with a proviso constancy abhors    "crowns of life" are servile prizes to the stately heart, given for the giving, solely, no emolument.    "faithful to the end" amended from the heavenly clause    lucrative indeed the offer but the heart withdraws    "i will give" the base proviso    spare your "crown of life"    those it fits, too fair to wear it    try it on yourself    1358 the treason of an accent might ecstasy transfer    of her effacing fathom is no recoverer       the treason of an accent might vilify the joy    to breathe    corrode the rapture of sanctity to be    1359 the long sigh of the frog upon a summer's day enacts intoxication upon the revery    but his receding swell substantiates a peace that makes the ear inordinate for corporal release    1360 i sued the news    yet feared    the news that such a realm could be    "the house not made with hands" it was    thrown open wide to me    1361 the flake the wind exasperate more eloquently lie than if escorted to its down by arm of chivalry. 1362 of their peculiar light i keep one ray to clarify the sight to seek them by    1363 summer laid her simple hat on its boundless shelf    unobserved    a ribbon slipt, snatch it for yourself. summer laid her supple glove in its sylvan drawer    wheresoe'er, or was she    the demand of awe? 1364 how know it from a summer's day? its fervors are as firm    and nothing in the countenance but scintillates the same    yet birds examine it and flee    and vans without a name inspect the admonition and sunder as they came    1365 take all away    the only thing worth larceny is left    the immortality    1366 brother of ingots    ah peru    empty the hearts that purchased you       sister of ophir    ah, peru    subtle the sum that purchase you       brother of ophir bright adieu, honor, the shortest route to you. 1367 "tomorrow"    whose location the wise deceives though its hallucination is last that leaves    tomorrow    thou retriever of every tare    of alibi art thou or ownest where? 1368 love's stricken "why" is all that love can speak    built of but just a syllable the hugest hearts that break. 1369 trusty as the stars who quit their shining working prompt as when i lit them in genesis' new house, durable as dawn whose antiquated blossom makes a world's suspense perish and rejoice. 1370 gathered into the earth, and out of story    gathered so that strange fame    that lonesome glory that hath no omen here    but awe    1371 how fits his umber coat the tailor of the nut? combined without a seam like raiment of a dream    who spun the auburn cloth? computed how the girth? the chestnut aged grows in those primeval clothes    we know that we are wise    accomplished in surprise    yet by this countryman    this nature    how undone! 1372 the sun is one    and on the tare he doth as punctual call as on the conscientious flower and estimates them all    1373 the worthlessness of earthly things the ditty is that nature sings    and then    enforces their delight till synods are inordinate    1374 a saucer holds a cup in sordid human life but in a squirrel's estimate a saucer hold a loaf. a table of a tree demands the little king and every breeze that run along his dining room do swing. his cutlery    he keeps within his russer lips    to see it flashing when he dines do birmingham eclipse    convicted    could we be of our minutiae the smallest citizen that flies is heartier than we    1375 death warrants are supposed to be an enginery of equity a merciful mistake a pencil in an idol's hand a devotee has oft consigned to crucifix or block 1376 dreams are the subtle dower that make us rich an hour    then fling us poor out of the purple door into the precinct raw possessed before    1377 forbidden fruit a flavor has that lawful orchards mocks    how luscious lies within the pod the pea that duty locks    1378 his heart was darker than the starless night for that there is a morn but in this black receptacle can be no bode of dawn 1379 his mansion in the pool the frog forsakes    he rises on a log and statements makes    his auditors two worlds deducting me    the orator of april is hoarse today    his mittens at his feet no hand hath he    his eloquence a bubble as fame should be    applaud him to discover to your chagrin demosthenes has vanished in waters green    1380 how much the present moment means to those who've nothing more    the fop    the carp    the atheist    stake an entire store upon a moment's shallow rim while their commuted feet the torrents of eternity do all but inundate    1381 i suppose the time will come aid it in the coming when the bird will crowd the tree and the bee be booming. i suppose the time will come hinder it a little when the corn in silk will dress and in chintz the apple i believe the day will be when the jay will giggle at his new white house the earth that, too, halt a little    1382 in many and reportless places we feel a joy    reportless, also, but sincere as nature or deity    it comes, without a consternation    dissolves    the same    but leaves a sumptuous destitution    without a name    profane it by a search    we cannot it has no home    nor we who having once inhaled it    thereafter roam. 1383 long years apart    can make no breach a second cannot fill    the absence of the witch does not invalidate the spell    the embers of a thousand years uncovered by the hand that fondled them when they were fire will stir and understand    1384 praise it    'tis dead    it cannot glow    warm this inclement ear with the encomium it earned since it was gathered here    invest this alabaster zest in the delights of dust    remitted    since it flitted it in recusance august. 1385 "secrets" is a daily word yet does not exist    muffled    it remits surmise    murmured    it has ceased    dungeoned in the human breast doubtless secrets lie    but that grate inviolate    goes nor comes away nothing with a tongue or ear    secrets stapled there will emerge but once    and dumb    to the sepulchre    1386 summer    we all have seen    a few of us    believed    a few    the more aspiring unquestionably loved    but summer does not care    she goes her spacious way as eligible as the moon to our temerity    the doom to be adored    the affluence conferred    unknown as to an ecstasy the embryo endowed    1387 the butterfly's numidian gown with spots of burnish roasted on is proof against the sun yet prone to shut its spotted fan and panting on a clover lean as if it were undone    1388 those cattle smaller than a bee that herd upon the eye    whose tillage is the passing crumb    those cattle are the fly    of barns for winter    blameless    extemporaneous stalls they found to our objection    on eligible walls    reserving the presumption to suddenly descend and gallop on the furniture    or odiouser offend    of their peculiar calling unqualified to judge to nature we remand them to justify or scourge    1389 touch lightly nature's sweet guitar unless thou know'st the tune or every bird will point at thee because a bard too soon    1390 these held their wick above the west    till when the red declined    or how the amber aided it    defied to be defined    then waned without disparagement in a dissembling hue that would not let the eye decide did it abide or no    1391 they might not need me    yet they might    i'll let my heart be just in sight    a smile so small as mine might be precisely their necessity    1392 hope is a strange invention    a patent of the heart    in unremitting action yet never wearing out    of this electric adjunct not anything is known but its unique momentum embellish all we own    1393 lay this laurel on the one too intrinsic for renown    laurel    veil your deathless tree    him you chasten, that is he! 1394 whose pink career may have a close portentous as our own, who knows? to imitate these neighbors fleet in awe and innocence, were meet. 1395 after all birds have been investigated and laid aside    nature imparts the little blue bird    assured her conscientious voice will soar unmoved above ostensible vicissitude. first at the march    competing with the wind    her panting note exalts us    like a friend    last to adhere when summer cleaves away    elegy of integrity. 1396 she laid her docile crescent down and this confiding stone still states to dates that have forgot the news that she is gone    so constant to its stolid trust, the shaft that never knew    it shames the constancy that fled before its emblem flew    1397 it sounded as if the streets were running and then    the streets stood still    eclipse    was all we could see at the window and awe    was all we could feel. by and by    the boldest stole out of his covert to see if time was there    nature was in an opal apron, mixing fresher air. 1398 i have no life but this    to lead it here    nor any death    but lest dispelled from there    nor tie to earths to come    nor action new    except through this extent    the realm of you    1399 perhaps they do not go so far as we who stay, suppose    perhaps come closer, for the lapse of their corporeal clothes    it may be know so certainly how short we have to fear that comprehension antedates and estimates us there    1400 what mystery pervades a well! that water lives so far    a neighbor from another world residing in a jar whose limit none have ever seen, but just his lid of glass    like looking every time you please in an abyss's face! the grass does not appear afraid, i often wonder he can stand so close and look so bold at what is awe to me. related somehow they may be, the sedge stands next the sea    where he is floorless and does no timidity betray but nature is a stranger yet; the ones that cite her most have never passed her haunted house, nor simplified her ghost. to pity those that know her not is helped by the regret that those who know her, know her less the nearer her they get. 1401 to own a susan of my own is of itself a bliss    whatever realm i forfeit, lord, continue me in this! 1402 to the stanch dust we safe commit thee    tongue if it hath, inviolate to thee    silence    denote    and sanctity    enforce thee    passenger    of infinity    1403 my maker    let me be enamored most of thee    but nearer this i more should miss    1404 march is the month of expectation. the things we do not know    the persons of prognostication are coming now    we try to show becoming firmness    but pompous joy betrays us, as his first betrothal betrays a boy. 1405 bees are black, with gilt surcingles    buccaneers of buzz. ride abroad in ostentation and subsist on fuzz. fuzz ordained    not fuzz contingent    marrows of the hill. jugs    a universe's fracture could not jar or spill. 1406 no passenger was known to flee    that lodged a night in memory    that wily    subterranean inn contrives that none go out again    1407 a field of stubble, lying sere beneath the second sun    its toils to brindled people thrust    its triumphs    to the bin    accosted by a timid bird irresolute of alms    is often seen    but seldom felt, on our new england farms    1408 the fact that earth is heaven    whether heaven is heaven or not if not an affidavit of that specific spot not only must confirm us that it is not for us but that it would affront us to dwell in such a place    1409 could mortal lip divine the undeveloped freight of a delivered syllable 'twould crumble with the weight. 1410 i shall not murmur if at last the ones i loved below permission have to understand for what i shunned them so    divulging it would rest my heart but it would ravage theirs    why, katie, treason has a voice    but mine    dispels    in tears. 1411 of paradise' existence all we know is the uncertain certainty    but its vicinity infer, by its bisecting messenger    1412 shame is the shawl of pink in which we wrap the soul to keep it from infesting eyes    the elemental veil which helpless nature drops when pushed upon a scene repugnant to her probity    shame is the tint divine. 1413 sweet skepticism of the heart    that knows    and does not know    and tosses like a fleet of balm    affronted by the snow    invites and then retards the truth lest certainty be sere compared with the delicious throe of transport thrilled with fear    1414 unworthy of her breast though by that scathing test what soul survive? by her exacting light how counterfeit the white we chiefly have! 1415 a wild blue sky abreast of winds that threatened it    did run and crouched behind his yellow door was the defiant sun    some conflict with those upper friends so genial in the main that we deplore peculiarly their arrogant campaign    1416 crisis is sweet and yet the heart upon the hither side has dowers of prospective to denizens denied inquire of the closing rose which rapture she preferred and she will point you sighing to her rescinded bud. 1417 how human nature dotes on what it can't detect. the moment that a plot is plumbed prospective is extinct    prospective is the friend reserved for us to know when constancy is clarified of curiosity    of subjects that resist redoubtablest is this where go we    go we anywhere creation after this? 1418 how lonesome the wind must feel nights    when people have put out the lights and everything that has an inn closes the shutter and goes in    how pompous the wind must feel noons stepping to incorporeal tunes correcting errors of the sky and clarifying scenery how mighty the wind must feel morns encamping on a thousand dawns espousing each and spurning all then soaring to his temple tall    1419 it was a quiet seeming day    there was no harm in earth or sky    till with the closing sun there strayed an accidental red a strolling hue, one would have said to westward of the town    but when the earth began to jar and houses vanished with a roar and human nature hid we comprehended by the awe as those that dissolution saw the poppy in the cloud 1420 one joy of so much anguish sweet nature has for me i shun it as i do despair or dear iniquity    why birds, a summer morning before the quick of day should stab my ravished spirit with dirks of melody is part of an inquiry that will receive reply when flesh and spirit sunder in death's immediately    1421 such are the inlets of the mind    his outlets    would you see ascend with me the eminence of immortality    1422 summer has two beginnings    beginning once in june    beginning in october affectingly again    without, perhaps, the riot but graphicker for grace    as finer is a going than a remaining face    departing then    forever    forever    until may    forever is deciduous except to those who die    1423 the fairest home i ever knew was founded in an hour by parties also that i knew a spider and a flower    a manse of mechlin and of floes    1424 the gentian has a parched corolla    like azure dried 'tis nature's buoyant juices beatified    without a vaunt or sheen as casual as rain and as benign    when most is part    it comes    nor isolate it seems its bond its friend    to fill its fringed career and aid an aged year abundant end    its lot    were it forgot    this truth endear    fidelity is gain creation is o'er    1425 the inundation of the spring enlarges every soul    it sweeps the tenement away but leaves the water whole    in which the soul at first estranged    seeks faintly for its shore but acclimated    pines no more for that peninsula    1426 the pretty rain from those sweet eaves her unintending eyes    took her own heart, including ours, by innocent surprise    the wrestle in her simple throat to hold the feeling down that vanquished her    defeated feat    was fervor's sudden crown    1427 to earn it by disdaining it is fame's consummate fee    he loves what spurns him    look behind    he is pursuing thee. so let us gather    every day    the aggregate of life's bouquet be honor and not shame    1428 water makes many beds for those averse to sleep    its awful chamber open stands    its curtains blandly sweep    abhorrent is the rest in undulating rooms whose amplitude no end invades    whose axis never comes. 1429 we shun because we prize her face lest sight's ineffable disgrace our adoration stain 1430 who never wanted    maddest joy remains to him unknown    the banquet of abstemiousness defaces that of wine    within its reach, though yet ungrasped desire's perfect goal    no nearer    lest the actual    should disentrall thy soul    1431 with pinions of disdain the soul can farther fly than any feather specified in ornithology    it wafts this sordid flesh beyond its dull    control and during its electric gale    the body is a soul    instructing by the same    how little work it be    to put off filaments like this for immortality 1432 spurn the temerity    rashness of calvary    gay were gethsemane knew we of thee    1433 how brittle are the piers on which our faith doth tread    no bridge below doth totter so    yet none hath such a crowd. it is as old as god    indeed    'twas built by him    he sent his son to test the plank, and he pronounced it firm. 1434 go not too near a house of rose    the depredation of a breeze    or inundation of a dew alarms its walls away    nor try to tie the butterfly, nor climb the bars of ecstasy, in insecurity to lie is joy's insuring quality. 1435 not that he goes    we love him more who led us while he stayed. beyond earth's trafficking frontier, for what he moved, he made. 1436 than heaven more remote, for heaven is the root, but these the flitted seed. more flown indeed than ones that never were, or those that hide, and are. what madness, by their side, a vision to provide of future days they cannot praise. my soul, to find them, come, they cannot call, they're dumb, nor prove, nor woo, but that they have abode is absolute as god, and instant, too. 1437 a dew sufficed itself    and satisfied a leaf and felt "how vast a destiny"    "how trivial is life!" the sun went out to work    the day went out to play and not again that dew be seen by physiognomy whether by day abducted or emptied by the sun into the sea in passing eternally unknown attested to this day that awful tragedy by transport's instability and doom's celerity. 1438 behold this little bane    the boon of all alive    as common as it is unknown the name of it is love    to lack of it is woe    to own of it is wound    not elsewhere    if in paradise its tantamount be found    1439 how ruthless are the gentle    how cruel are the kind    god broke his contract to his lamb to qualify the wind    1440 the healed heart shows its shallow scar with confidential moan    not mended by mortality are fabrics truly torn    to go its convalescent way so shameless is to see more genuine were perfidy than such fidelity. 1441 these fevered days    to take them to the forest where waters cool around the mosses crawl    and shade is all that devastates the stillness seems it sometimes this would be all    1442 to mend each tattered faith there is a needle fair though no appearance indicate    'tis threaded in the air    and though it do not wear as if it never tore 'tis very comfortable indeed and spacious as before    1443 a chilly peace infests the grass the sun respectful lies    not any trance of industry these shadows scrutinize    whose allies go no more astray for service or for glee    but all mankind deliver here from whatsoever sea    1444 a little snow was here and there disseminated in her hair    since she and i had met and played decade had gathered to decade    but time had added not obtained impregnable the rose for summer too indelible too obdurate for snows    1445 death is the supple suitor that wins at last    it is a stealthy wooing conducted first by pallid innuendoes and dim approach but brave at last with bugles and a bisected coach it bears away in triumph to troth unknown and kindred as responsive as porcelain. 1446 his mind like fabrics of the east displayed to the despair of everyone but here and there an humble purchaser    for though his price was not of gold    more arduous there is    that one should comprehend the worth was all the price there was    1447 how good his lava bed, to this laborious boy    who must be up to call the world and dress the sleepy day    1448 how soft a caterpillar steps    i fond one on my hand from such a velvet world it comes such plushes at command its soundless travels just arrest my slow    terrestrial eye intent upon its own career what use has it for me    1449 i thought the train would never come    how slow the whistle sang    i don't believe a peevish bird so whimpered for the spring    i taught my heart a hundred times precisely what to say    provoking lover, when you came its treatise flew away to hide my strategy too late to wiser be too soon    for miseries so halcyon the happiness atone    1450 the road was lit with moon and star    the trees were bright and still    descried i    by the distant light a traveller on a hill    to magic perpendiculars ascending, though terrene    unknown his shimmering ultimate    but he indorsed the sheen    1451 whoever disenchants a single human soul by failure of irreverence is guilty of the whole. as guileless as a bird as graphic as a star till the suggestion sinister things are not what they are    1452 your thoughts don't have words every day they come a single time like signal esoteric sips of the communion wine which while you taste so native seems so easy so to be you cannot comprehend its price nor its infrequency 1453 a counterfeit    a plated person    i would not be    whatever strata of iniquity my nature underlie    truth is good health    and safety, and the sky. how meagre, what an exile    is a lie, and vocal    when we die    1454 those not live yet who doubt to live again    "again" is of a twice but this    is one    the ship beneath the draw aground    is he? death    so    the hyphen of the sea    deep is the schedule of the disk to be    costumeless consciousness    that is he    1455 opinion is a flitting thing, but truth, outlasts the sun    if then we cannot own them both    possess the oldest one    1456 so gay a flower bereaves the mind as if it were a woe    is beauty an affliction    then? tradition ought to know    1457 it stole along so stealthy suspicion it was done was dim as to the wealthy beginning not to own    1458 time's wily chargers will not wait at any gate but woe's    but there    so gloat to hesitate they will not stir for blows    1459 belshazzar had a letter    he never had but one    belshazzar's correspondent concluded and begun in that immortal copy the conscience of us all can read without its glasses on revelation's wall    1460 his cheek is his biographer    as long as he can blush perdition is opprobrium    past that, he sins in peace    1461 "heavenly father"    take to thee the supreme iniquity fashioned by thy candid hand in a moment contraband    though to trust us    seems to us more respectful    "we are dust"    we apologize to thee for thine own duplicity    1462 we knew not that we were to live    nor when    we are to die    our ignorance    our cuirass is    we wear mortality as lightly as an option gown till asked to take it off    by his intrusion, god is known    it is the same with life    1463 a route of evanescence with a revolving wheel    a resonance of emerald    a rush of cochineal    and every blossom on the bush adjusts its tumbled head    the mail from tunis, probably, an easy morning's ride    1464 one thing of it we borrow and promise to return    the booty and the sorrow its sweetness to have known    one thing of it we covet    the power to forget    the anguish of the avarice defrays the dross of it    1465 before you thought of spring except as a surmise you see    god bless his suddenness    a fellow in the skies of independent hues a little weather worn inspiriting habiliments of indigo and brown    with specimens of song as if for you to choose    discretion in the interval with gay delays he goes to some superior tree without a single leaf and shouts for joy to nobody but his seraphic self    1466 one of the ones that midas touched who failed to touch us all was that confiding prodigal the reeling oriole    so drunk he disavows it with badinage divine    so dazzling we mistake him for an alighting mine    a pleader    a dissembler    an epicure    a thief    betimes an oratorio    an ecstasy in chief    the jesuit of orchards he cheats as he enchants of an entire attar for his decamping wants    the splendor of a burmah the meteor of birds, departing like a pageant of ballads and of bards    i never thought that jason sought for any golden fleece but then i am a rural man with thoughts that make for peace    but if there were a jason, tradition bear with me behold his lost aggrandizement upon the apple tree    1467 a little overflowing word that any, hearing, had inferred for ardor or for tears, though generations pass away, traditions ripen and decay, as eloquent appears    1468 a winged spark doth soar about    i never met it near for lightning it is oft mistook when nights are hot and sere    its twinkling travels it pursues above the haunts of men    a speck of rapture    first perceived by feeling it is gone    rekindled by some action quaint 1469 if wrecked upon the shoal of thought how is it with the sea? the only vessel that is shunned is safe    simplicity    1470 the sweets of pillage, can be known to no one but the thief    compassion for integrity is his divinest grief    1471 their barricade against the sky the martial trees withdraw and with a flag at every turn their armies are no more. what russet halts in nature's march they indicate or cause an inference of mexico effaces the surmise    recurrent to the after mind that massacre of air    the wound that was not wound nor scar but holidays of war 1472 to see the summer sky is poetry, though never in a book it lie    true poems flee    1473 we talked with each other about each other though neither of us spoke    we were listening to the seconds' races and the hoofs of the clock    pausing in front of our palsied faces time compassion took    arks of reprieve he offered to us    ararats    we took    1474 estranged from beauty    none can be    for beauty is infinity    and power to be finite ceased before identity was leased. 1475 fame is the one that does not stay    its occupant must die or out of sight of estimate ascend incessantly    or be that most insolvent thing a lightning in the germ    electrical the embryo but we demand the flame 1476 his voice decrepit was with joy    her words did totter so how old the news of love must be to make lips elderly that purled a moment since with glee    is it delight or woe    or terror    that do decorate this livid interview    1477 how destitute is he whose gold is firm who finds it every time the small stale sum    when love with but a pence will so display as is a disrespect to india. 1478 look back on time, with kindly eyes    he doubtless did his best    how softly sinks that trembling sun in human nature's west    1479 the devil    had he fidelity would be the best friend    because he has ability    but devils cannot mend    perfidy is the virtue that would but he resign the devil    without question were thoroughly divine 1480 the fascinating chill that music leaves is earth's corroboration of ecstasy's impediment    'tis rapture's germination in timid and tumultuous soil a fine    estranging creature    to something upper wooing us but not to our creator    1481 the way hope builds his house it is not with a sill    nor rafter    has that edifice but only pinnacle    abode in as supreme this superficies as if it were of ledges smit or mortised with the laws    1482 'tis whiter than an indian pipe    'tis dimmer than a lace    no stature has it, like a fog when you approach the place    nor any voice imply it here or intimate it there a spirit    how doth it accost    what function hat the air? this limitless hyperbole each one of us shall be    'tis drama    if hypothesis it be not tragedy    1483 the robin is a gabriel in humble circumstances    his dress denotes him socially, of transport's working classes    he has the punctuality of the new england farmer    the same oblique integrity, a vista vastly warmer    a small but sturdy residence a self denying household, the guests of perspicacity are all that cross his threshold    as covert as a fugitive, cajoling consternation by ditties to the enemy and sylvan punctuation    1484 we shall find the cube of the rainbow. of that, there is no doubt. but the arc of a lover's conjecture eludes the finding out. 1485 love is done when love's begun, sages say, but have sages known? truth adjourn your boon without day. 1486 her spirit rose to such a height her countenance it did inflate like one that fed on awe. more prudent to assault the dawn than merit the ethereal scorn that effervesced from her. 1487 the savior must have been a docile gentleman    to come so far so cold a day for little fellowmen    the road to bethlehem since he and i were boys was leveled, but for that 'twould be a rugged billion miles    1488 birthday of but a single pang that there are less to come    afflictive is the adjective but affluent the doom    1489 a dimple in the tomb makes that ferocious room a home    1490 the face in evanescence lain is more distinct than ours    and ours surrendered for its sake as capsules are for flower's    or is it the confiding sheen dissenting to enamor us of detriment divine? 1491 the road to paradise is plain, and holds scarce one. not that it is not firm but we presume a dimpled road is more preferred. the belles of paradise are few    not me    nor you    but unsuspected things    mines have no wings. 1492 "and with what body do they come?"    then they do come    rejoice! what door    what hour    run    run    my soul! illuminate the house! "body!" then real    a face and eyes    to know that it is them! paul knew the man that knew the news    he passed through bethlehem    1493 could that sweet darkness where they dwell be once disclosed to us the clamor for their loveliness would burst the loneliness    1494 the competitions of the sky corrodeless ply. 1495 the thrill came slowly like a boom for centuries delayed its fitness growing like the flood in sumptuous solitude    the desolations only missed while rapture changed its dress and stood amazed before the change in ravished holiness    1496 all that i do is in review to his enamored mind i know his eye where e'er i ply is pushing close behind not any port nor any flight but he doth there preside what omnipresence lies in wait for her to be a bride 1497 facts by our side are never sudden until they look around and then they scare us like a spectre protruding from the ground    the height of our portentous neighbor we never know    till summoned to his recognition by an adieu    adieu for whence the sage cannot conjecture the bravest die as ignorant of their resumption as you or i    1498 glass was the street    in tinsel peril tree and traveller stood    filled was the air with merry venture hearty with boys the road    shot the lithe sleds like shod vibrations emphasized and gone it is the past's supreme italic makes this present mean    1499 how firm eternity must look to crumbling men like me the only adamant estate in all identity    how mighty to the insecure thy physiognomy to whom not any face cohere    unless concealed in thee 1500 it came his turn to beg    the begging for the life is different from another alms 'tis penury in chief    i scanned his narrow realm i gave him leave to live lest gratitude revive the snake though smuggled his reprieve 1501 its little ether hood doth sit upon its head    the millinery supple of the sagacious god    till when it slip away a nothing at a time    and dandelion's drama expires in a stem. 1502 i saw the wind within her i knew it blew for me    but she must buy my shelter i asked humility 1503 more than the grave is closed to me    the grave and that eternity to which the grave adheres    i cling to nowhere till i fall    the crash of nothing, yet of all    how similar appears    1504 of whom so dear the name to hear illumines with a glow as intimate    as fugitive as sunset on the snow    1505 she could not live upon the past the present did not know her and so she sought this sweet at last and nature gently owned her the mother that has not a knell for either duke or robin 1506 summer is shorter than any one    life is shorter than summer    seventy years is spent as quick as an only dollar    sorrow    now    is polite    and stays    see how well we spurn him    equally to abhor delight    equally retain him    1507 the pile of years is not so high as when you came before but it is rising every day from recollection's floor and while by standing on my heart i still can reach the top efface the mountain with your face and catch me ere i drop 1508 you cannot make remembrance grow when it has lost its root    the tightening the soil around and setting it upright deceives perhaps the universe but not retrieves the plant    real memory, like cedar feet is shod with adamant    nor can you cut remembrance down when it shall once have grown    its iron buds will sprout anew however overthrown    1509 mine enemy is growing old    i have at last revenge    the palate of the hate departs    if any would avenge let him be quick    the viand flits    it is a faded meat    anger as soon as fed is dead    'tis starving makes it fat    1510 how happy is the little stone that rambles in the road alone, and doesn't care about careers and exigencies never fears    whose coat of elemental brown a passing universe put on, and independent as the sun associates or glows alone, fulfilling absolute decree in casual simplicity    1511 my country need not change her gown, her triple suit as sweet as when 'twas cut at lexington, and first pronounced "a fit." great britain disapproves, "the stars"; disparagement discreet,    there's something in their attitude that taunts her bayonet. 1512 all things swept sole away this    is immensity    1513 "go travelling with us!" her travels daily be by routes of ecstasy to evening's sea    1514 an antiquated tree is cherished of the crow because that junior foliage is disrespectful now to venerable birds whose corporation coat would decorate oblivion's remotest consulate. 1515 the things that never can come back, are several    childhood    some forms of hope    the dead    though joys    like men    may sometimes make a journey    and still abide    we do not mourn for traveler, or sailor, their routes are fair    but think enlarged of all that they will tell us returning here    "here!" there are typic "heres"    foretold locations    the spirit does not stand    himself    at whatsoever fathom his native land    1516 no autumn's intercepting chill appalls this tropic breast    but african exuberance and asiatic rest. 1517 how much of source escapes with thee    how chief thy sessions be    for thou hast borne a universe entirely away. 1518 not seeing, still we know    not knowing, guess    not guessing, smile and hide and half caress    and quake    and turn away, seraphic fear    is eden's innuendo "if you dare"? 1519 the dandelion's pallid tube astonishes the grass, and winter instantly becomes an infinite alas    the tube uplifts a signal bud and then a shouting flower,    the proclamation of the suns that sepulture is o'er. 1520 the stem of a departed flower has still a silent rank. the bearer from an emerald court of a despatch of pink. 1521 the butterfly upon the sky, that doesn't know its name and hasn't any tax to pay and hasn't any home is just as high as you and i, and higher, i believe, so soar away and never sigh and that's the way to grieve    1522 his little hearse like figure unto itself a dirge to a delusive lilac the vanity divulge of industry and morals and every righteous thing for the divine perdition of idleness and spring    1523 we never know we go when we are going    we jest and shut the door    fate    following    behind us bolts it    and we accost no more    1524 a faded boy    in sallow clothes who drove a lonesome cow to pastures of oblivion    a statesman's embryo    the boys that whistled are extinct    the cows that fed and thanked remanded to a ballad's barn or clover's retrospect    1525 he lived the life of ambush and went the way of dusk and now against his subtle name there stands an asterisk as confident of him as we    impregnable we are    the whole of immortality intrenched within a star    1526 his oriental heresies exhilarate the bee, and filling all the earth and air with gay apostasy fatigued at last, a clover plain allures his jaded eye that lowly breast where butterflies have felt it meet to die    1527 oh give it motion    deck it sweet with artery and vein    upon its fastened lips lay words    affiance it again to that pink stranger we call dust    acquainted more with that than with this horizontal one that will not lift its hat    1528 the moon upon her fluent route defiant of a road    the star's etruscan argument substantiate a god    if aims impel these astral ones the ones allowed to know know that which makes them as forgot as dawn forgets them    now    1529 'tis seasons since the dimpled war in which we each were conqueror and each of us were slain and centuries 'twill be and more another massacre before so modest and so vain    without a formula we fought each was to each the pink redoubt    1530 a pang is more conspicuous in spring in contrast with the things that sing not birds entirely    but minds    minute effulgencies and winds    when what they sung for is undone who cares about a blue bird's tune    why, resurrection had to wait till they had moved a stone    1531 above oblivion's tide there is a pier and an effaceless "few" are lifted there    nay    lift themselves    fame has no arms    and but one smile    that meagres balms    1532 from all the jails the boys and girls ecstatically leap    beloved only afternoon that prison doesn't keep they storm the earth and stun the air, a mob of solid bliss    alas    that frowns should lie in wait for such a foe as this    1533 on that specific pillow our projects flit away    the night's tremendous morrow and whether sleep will stay or usher us    a stranger    to situations new the effort to comprise it is all the soul can do. 1534 society for me my misery since gift of thee    1535 the life that tied too tight escapes will ever after run with a prudential look behind and spectres of the rein    the horse that scents the living grass and sees the pastures smile will be retaken with a shot if he is caught at all    1536 there comes a warning like a spy a shorter breath of day a stealing that is not a stealth and summers are away    1537 candor    my tepid friend    come not to play with me    the myrrhs, and mochas, of the mind are its iniquity    1538 follow wise orion till you waste your eye    dazzlingly decamping he is just as high    1539 now i lay thee down to sleep    i pray the lord thy dust to keep    and if thou live before thou wake    i pray the lord thy soul to make    1540 as imperceptibly as grief the summer lapsed away    too imperceptible at last to seem like perfidy    a quietness distilled as twilight long begun, or nature spending with herself sequestered afternoon    the dusk drew earlier in    the morning foreign shone    a courteous, yet harrowing grace, as guest, that would be gone    and thus, without a wing or service of a keel our summer made her light escape into the beautiful. 1541 no matter where the saints abide, they make their circuit fair behold how great a firmament accompanies a star. 1542 come show thy durham breast to her who loves thee best, delicious robin    and if it be not me at least within my tree do the avowing    thy nuptial so minute perhaps is more astute than vaster suing    for so to soar away is our propensity the day ensuing    1543 obtaining but our own extent in whatsoever realm    'twas christ's own personal expanse that bore him from the tomb    1544 who has not found the heaven    below    will fail of it above    for angels rent the house next ours, wherever we remove    1545 the bible is an antique volume    written by faded men at the suggestion of holy spectres    subjects    bethlehem    eden    the ancient homestead    satan    the brigadier    judas    the great defaulter    david    the troubador    sin    a distinguished precipice others must resist    boys that "believe" are very lonesome    other boys are "lost"    had but the tale a warbling teller    all the boys would come    orpheus' sermon captivated    it did not condemn    1546 sweet pirate of the heart, not pirate of the sea, what wrecketh thee? some spice's mutiny    some attar's perfidy? confide in me. 1547 hope is a subtle glutton    he feeds upon the fair    and yet    inspected closely what abstinence is there    his is the halcyon table    that never seats but one    and whatsoever is consumed the same amount remain    1548 meeting by accident, we hovered by design    as often as a century an error so divine is ratified by destiny, but destiny is old and economical of bliss as midas is of gold    1549 my wars are laid away in books    i have one battle more    a foe whom i have never seen but oft has scanned me o'er    and hesitated me between and others at my side, but chose the best    neglecting me    till all the rest, have died    how sweet if i am not forgot by chums that passed away    since playmates at threescore and ten are such a scarcity    1550 the pattern of the sun can fit but him alone for sheen must have a disk to be a sun    1551 those    dying then, knew where they went    they went to god's right hand    that hand is amputated now and god cannot be found    the abdication of belief makes the behavior small    better an ignis fatuus than no illume at all    1552 within thy grave! oh no, but on some other flight    thou only camest to mankind to rend it with good night    1553 bliss is the plaything of the child    the secret of the man the sacred stealth of boy and girl rebuke it if we can 1554 "go tell it"    what a message    to whom    is specified    not murmur    not endearment    but simply    we    obeyed    obeyed    a lure    a longing? oh nature    none of this    to law    said sweet thermopylae i give my dying kiss    1555 i groped for him before i knew with solemn nameless need all other bounty sudden chaff for this foreshadowed food which others taste and spurn and sneer    though i within suppose that consecrated it could be the only food that grows 1556 image of light, adieu    thanks for the interview    so long    so short    preceptor of the whole    coeval cardinal    impart    depart    1557 lives he in any other world my faith cannot reply before it was imperative 'twas all distinct to me    1558 of death i try to think like this    the well in which they lay us is but the likeness of the brook that menaced not to slay us, but to invite by that dismay which is the zest of sweetness to the same flower hesperian, decoying but to greet us    i do remember when a child with bolder playmates straying to where a brook that seemed a sea withheld us by its roaring from just the purple flower beyond until constrained to clutch it if doom itself were the result, the boldest leaped, and clutched it    1559 tried always and condemned by thee permit me this reprieve that dying i may earn the look for which i cease to live    1560 to be forgot by thee surpasses memory of other minds the heart cannot forget unless it contemplate what it declines i was regarded then raised from oblivion a single time to be remembered what    worthy to be forgot is my renown 1561 no brigadier throughout the year so civic as the jay    a neighbor and a warrior too with shrill felicity pursuing winds that censure us a february day, the brother of the universe was never blown away    the snow and he are intimate    i've often seem them play when heaven looked upon us all with such severity i felt apology were due to an insulted sky whose pompous frown was nutriment to their temerity    the pillow of this daring head is pungent evergreens    his larder    terse and militant    unknown    refreshing things    his character    a tonic    his future    a dispute    unfair an immortality that leaves this neighbor out    1562 her losses make our gains ashamed    she bore life's empty pack as gallantly as if the east were swinging at her back. life's empty pack is heaviest, as every porter knows    in vain to punish honey    it only sweeter grows. 1563 by homely gift and hindered words the human heart is told of nothing    "nothing" is the force that renovates the world    1564 pass to they rendezvous of light, pangless except for us    who slowly for the mystery which thou hast leaped across! 1565 some arrows slay but whom they strike    but this slew all but him    who so appareled his escape    too trackless for a tomb    1566 climbing to reach the costly hearts to which he gave the worth, he broke them, fearing punishment he ran away from earth    1567 the heart has many doors    i can but knock    for any sweet "come in" impelled to hark    not saddened by repulse, repast to me that somewhere, there exists, supremacy    1568 to see her is a picture    to hear her is a tune    to know her an intemperance as innocent as june    to know her not    affliction    to own her for a friend a warmth as near as if the sun were shining in your hand. 1569 the clock strikes one that just struck two    some schism in the sum    a vagabond for genesis has wrecked the pendulum    1570 forever honored by the tree whose apple winterworn enticed to breakfast from the sky two gabriels yestermorn. they registered in nature's book as robins    sire and son    but angels have that modest way to screen them from renown. 1571 how slow the wind    how slow the sea    how late their fathers be! 1572 we wear our sober dresses when we die, but summer, frilled as for a holiday adjourns her sigh    1573 to the bright east she flies, brothers of paradise remit her home, without a change of wings, or love's convenient things, enticed to come. fashioning what she is, fathoming what she was, we deem we dream    and that dissolves the days through which existence strays homeless at home. 1574 no ladder needs the bird but skies to situate its wings, nor any leader's grim baton arraigns it as it sings. the implements of bliss are few    as jesus says of him, "come unto me" the moiety that wafts the cherubim. 1575 the bat is dun, with wrinkled wings    like fallow article    and not a song pervade his lips    or none perceptible. his small umbrella quaintly halved describing in the air an arc alike inscrutable elate philosopher. deputed from what firmament    of what astute abode    empowered with what malignity auspiciously withheld    to his adroit creator acribe no less the praise    beneficent, believe me, his eccentricities    1576 the spirit lasts    but in what mode    below, the body speaks, but as the spirit furnishes    apart, it never talks    the music in the violin does not emerge alone but arm in arm with touch, yet touch alone    is not a tune    the spirit lurks within the flesh like tides within the sea that make the water live, estranged what would the either be? does that know    now    or does it cease    that which to this is done, resuming at a mutual date with every future one? instinct pursues the adamant, exacting this reply    adversity if it may be, or wild prosperity, the rumor's gate was shut so tight before my mind was sown, not even a prognostic's push could make a dent thereon    1577 morning is due to all    to some    the night    to an imperial few    the auroral light. 1578 blossoms will run away, cakes reign but a day, but memory like melody is pink eternally. 1579 it would not know if it were spurned, this gallant little flower    how therefore safe to be a flower if one would tamper there. to enter, it would not aspire    but may it not despair that it is not a cavalier, to dare and perish there? 1580 we shun it ere it comes, afraid of joy, then sue it to delay and lest it fly, beguile it more and more    may not this be old suitor heaven, like our dismay at thee? 1581 the farthest thunder that i heard was nearer than the sky and rumbles still, though torrid noons have lain their missiles by    the lightning that preceded it struck no one but myself    but i would not exchange the bolt for all the rest of life    indebtedness to oxygen the happy may repay, but not the obligation to electricity    it founds the homes and decks the days and every clamor bright is but the gleam concomitant of that waylaying light    the thought is quiet as a flake    a crash without a sound, how life's reverberation its explanation found    1582 where roses would not dare to go, what heart would risk the way    and so i send my crimson scouts to sound the enemy    1583 witchcraft was hung, in history, but history and i find all the witchcraft that we need around us, every day    1584 expanse cannot be lost    not joy, but a decree is deity    his scene, infinity    whose rumor's gate was shut so tight before my beam was sown, not even a prognostic's push could make a dent thereon    the world that thou hast opened shuts for thee, but not alone, we all have followed thee    escape more slowly to thy tracts of sheen    the tent is listening, but the troops are gone! 1585 the bird her punctual music brings and lays it in its place    its place is in the human heart and in the heavenly grace    what respite from her thrilling toil did beauty ever take    but work might be electric rest to those that magic make    1586 to her derided home a weed of summer came    she did not know her station low nor ignominy's name    bestowed a summer long upon a frameless flower    then swept as lightly from disdain as lady from her bower    of bliss the codes are few    as jesus cites of him    "come unto me" the moiety that wafts the seraphim    1587 he ate and drank the precious words    his spirit grew robust    he knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was dust    he danced along the dingy days and this bequest of wings was but a book    what liberty a loosened spirit brings    1588 this me    that walks and works    must die, some fair or stormy day, adversity if it may be or wild prosperity the rumor's gate was shut so tight before my mind was born not even a prognostic's push can make a dent thereon    1589 cosmopolities without a plea alight in every land the compliments of paradise from those within my hand their dappled journey to themselves a compensation fair knock and it shall be opened is their theology 1590 not at home to callers says the naked tree    bonnet due in april    wishing you good day    1591 the bobolink is gone    the rowdy of the meadow    and no one swaggers now but me    the presbyterian birds can now resume the meeting he boldly interrupted that overflowing day when supplicating mercy in a portentous way he swung upon the decalogue and shouted let us pray    1592 the lassitudes of contemplation beget a force they are the spirit's still vacation that him refresh    the dreams consolidate in action    what mettle fair 1593 there came a wind like a bugle    it quivered through the grass and a green chill upon the heat so ominous did pass we barred the windows and the doors as from an emerald ghost    the doom's electric moccasin that very instant passed    on a strange mob of panting trees and fences fled away and rivers where the houses ran those looked that lived    that day    the bell within the steeple wild the flying tidings told    how much can come and much can go, and yet abide the world! 1594 immured in heaven! what a cell! let every bondage be, thou sweetest of the universe, like that which ravished thee! 1595 declaiming waters none may dread    but waters that are still are so for that most fatal cause in nature    they are full    1596 few, yet enough, enough is one    to that ethereal throng have not each one of us the right to stealthily belong? 1597 'tis not the swaying frame we miss, it is the steadfast heart, that had it beat a thousand years, with love alone had bent, its fervor the electric oar, that bore it through the tomb, ourselves, denied the privilege, consolelessly presume    1598 who is it seeks my pillow nights    with plain inspecting face    "did you" or "did you not," to ask    'tis "conscience"    childhood's nurse    with martial hand she strokes the hair upon my wincing head    "all" rogues "shall have their part in" what    the phosphorous of god    1599 though the great waters sleep, that they are still the deep, we cannot doubt    no vacillating god ignited this abode to put it out    1600 upon his saddle sprung a bird and crossed a thousand trees before a fence without a fare his fantasy did please and then he lifted up his throat and squandered such a note a universe that overheard is stricken by it yet    1601 of god we ask one favor, that we may be forgiven    for what, he is presumed to know    the crime, from us, is hidden    immured the whole of life within a magic prison we reprimand the happiness that too competes with heaven. 1602 pursuing you in your transitions, in other motes    of other myths your requisition be. the prism never held the hues, it only heard them play    1603 the going from a world we know to one a wonder still is like the child's adversity whose vista is a hill, behind the hill is sorcery and everything unknown, but will the secret compensate for climbing it alone? 1604 we send the wave to find the wave    an errand so divine, the messenger enamored too, forgetting to return, we make the wise distinction still, soever made in vain, the sagest time to dam the sea is when the sea is gone    1605 each that we lose takes part of us; a crescent still abides, which like the moon, some turbid night, is summoned by the tides. 1606 quite empty, quite at rest, the robin locks her nest, and tries her wings. she does not know a route but puts her craft about for rumored springs    she does not ask for noon    she does not ask for boon, crumbless and homeless, of but one request    the birds she lost    1607 within that little hive such hints of honey lay as made reality a dream and dreams, reality    1608 the ecstasy to guess were a receipted bliss if grace could talk. 1609 sunset that screens, reveals    enhancing what we see by menaces of amethyst and moats of mystery. 1610 morning that comes but once, considers coming twice    two dawns upon a single morn, make life a sudden price. 1611 their dappled importunity disparage or dismiss    the obloquies of etiquette are obsolete to bliss    1612 the auctioneer of parting his "going, going, gone" shouts even from the crucifix, and brings his hammer down    he only sells the wilderness, the prices of despair range from a single human heart to two    not any more    1613 not sickness stains the brave, nor any dart, nor doubt of scene to come, but an adjourning heart    1614 parting with thee reluctantly, that we have never met, a heart sometimes a foreigner, remembers it forgot    1615 oh what a grace is this, what majesties of peace, that having breathed the fine    ensuing right without diminuet proceed! 1616 who abdicated ambush and went the way of dusk, and now against his subtle name there stands an asterisk as confident of him as we    impregnable we are    the whole of immortality secreted in a star. 1617 to try to speak, and miss the way and ask it of the tears, is gratitude's sweet poverty, the tatters that he wears    a better coat if he possessed would help him to conceal, not subjugate, the mutineer whose title is "the soul." 1618 there are two mays and then a must and after that a shall. how infinite the compromise that indicates i will! 1619 not knowing when the dawn will come, i open every door, or has it feathers, like a bird, or billows, like a shore    1620 circumference thou bride of awe possessing thou shalt be possessed by every hallowed knight that dares to covet thee 1621 a flower will not trouble her, it has so small a foot, and yet if you compare the lasts, hers is the smallest boot    1622 a sloop of amber slips away upon an ether sea, and wrecks in peace a purple tar, the son of ecstasy    1623 a world made penniless by that departure of minor fabrics begs but sustenance is of the spirit the gods but dregs 1624 apparently with no surprise to any happy flower the frost beheads it at its play    in accidental power    the blonde assassin passes on    the sun proceeds unmoved to measure off another day for an approving god. 1625 back from the cordial grave i drag thee he shall not take thy hand nor put his spacious arm around thee that none can understand 1626 no life can pompless pass away    the lowliest career to the same pageant wends its way as that exalted here    how cordial is the mystery! the hospitable pall a "this way" beckons spaciously    a miracle for all! 1627 the pedigree of honey does not concern the bee, nor lineage of ecstasy delay the butterfly on spangle journeys to the peak of some perceiveless thing    the right of way to tripoli a more essential thing.    the pedigree of honey does not concern the bee    a clover, any time, to him, is aristocracy    1628 a drunkard cannot meet a cork without a revery    and so encountering a fly this january day jamaicas of remembrance stir that send me reeling in    the moderate drinker of delight does not deserve the spring    of juleps, part are the jug and more are in the joy    your connoisseur in liquours consults the bumble bee    1629 arrows enamored of his heart    forgot to rankle there and venoms he mistook for balms disdained to rankle there    1630 as from the earth the light balloon asks nothing but release    ascension that for which it was, its soaring residence. the spirit looks upon the dust that fastened it so long with indignation, as a bird defrauded of its song. 1631 oh future! thou secreted peace or subterranean woe    is there no wandering route of grace that leads away from thee    no circuit sage of all the course descried by cunning men to balk thee of thy sacred prey    advancing to thy den    1632 so give me back to death    the death i never feared except that it deprived of thee    and now, by life deprived, in my own grave i breathe and estimate its size    its size is all that hell can guess    and all that heaven was    1633 still own thee    still thou art what surgeons call alive    though slipping    slipping i perceive to thy reportless grave    which question shall i clutch    what answer wrest from thee before thou dost exude away in the recallless sea? 1634 talk not to me of summer trees the foliage of the mind a tabernacle is for birds of no corporeal kind and winds do go that way at noon to their ethereal homes whose bugles call the least of us to undepicted realms 1635 the jay his castanet has struck put on your muff for winter the tippet that ignores his voice is impudent to nature of swarthy days he is the close his lotus is a chestnut the cricket drops a sable line no more from yours at present 1636 the sun in reigning to the west makes not as much of sound as cart of man in road below adroitly turning round that whiffletree of amethyst 1637 is it too late to touch you, dear? we this moment knew    love marine and love terrene    love celestial too    1638 go thy great way! the stars thou meetst are even as thyself    for what are stars but asterisks to point a human life? 1639 a letter is a joy of earth    it is denied the gods    1640 take all away from me, but leave me ecstasy, and i am richer then than all my fellow men    ill it becometh me to dwell so wealthily when at my very door are those possessing more, in abject poverty    1641 betrothed to righteousness might be an ecstasy discreet but nature relishes the pinks which she was taught to eat    1642 "red sea," indeed! talk not to me of purple pharaoh    i have a navy in the west would pierce his columns thro'    guileless, yet of such glory fine that all along the line is it, or is it not, divine    the eye inquires with a sigh that earth sh'd be so big    what exultation in the woe    what wine in the fatigue! 1643 extol thee    could i? then i will by saying nothing new    but just the truest truth that thou art heavenly. perceiving thee is evidence that we are of the sky partaking thee a guaranty of immortality 1644 some one prepared this mighty show to which without a ticket go the nations and the days    displayed before the simplest door that all may witness it and more, the pomp of summer days. 1645 the ditch is dear to the drunken man for is it not his bed    his advocate    his edifice? how safe his fallen head in her disheveled sanctity    above him is the sky    oblivion bending over him and honor leagues away. 1646 why should we hurry    why indeed? when every way we fly we are molested equally by immortality. no respite from the inference that this which is begun, though where its labors lie a bland uncertainty besets the sight this mighty night    1647 of glory not a beam is left but her eternal house    the asterisk is for the dead, the living, for the stars    1648 the immortality she gave we borrowed at her grave    for just one plaudit famishing, the might of human love    1649 a cap of lead across the sky was tight and surly drawn we could not find the mighty face the figure was withdrawn    a chill came up as from a shaft our noon became a well a thunder storm combines the charms of winter and of hell. 1650 a lane of yellow led the eye unto a purple wood whose soft inhabitants to be surpasses solitude if bird the silence contradict or flower presume to show in that low summer of the west impossible to know    1651 a word made flesh is seldom and tremblingly partook nor then perhaps reported but have i not mistook each one of us has tasted with ecstasies of stealth the very food debated to our specific strength    a word that breathes distinctly has not the power to die cohesive as the spirit it may expire if he    "made flesh and dwelt among us" could condescension be like this consent of language this loved philology. 1652 advance is life's condition the grave but a relay supposed to be a terminus that makes it hated so    the tunnel is not lighted existence with a wall is better we consider than not exist at all    1653 as we pass houses musing slow if they be occupied so minds pass minds if they be occupied 1654 beauty crowds me till i die beauty mercy have on me but if i expire today let it be in sight of thee    1655 conferring with myself my stranger disappeared though first upon a berry fat miraculously fared how paltry looked my cares my practise how absurd superfluous my whole career beside this travelling bird 1656 down time's quaint stream without an oar we are enforced to sail our port a secret our perchance a gale what skipper would incur the risk what buccaneer would ride without a surety from the wind or schedule of the tide    1657 eden is that old fashioned house we dwell in every day without suspecting our abode until we drive away. how fair on looking back, the day we sauntered from the door    unconscious our returning, but discover it no more. 1658 endanger it, and the demand of tickets for a sigh amazes the humility of credibility    recover it to nature and that dejected fleet find consternation's carnival divested of its meat. 1659 fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate whose table once a guest but not the second time is set. whose crumbs the crows inspect and with ironic caw flap past it to the farmer's corn    men eat of it and die. 1660 glory is that bright tragic thing that for an instant means dominion    warms some poor name that never felt the sun, gently replacing in oblivion    1661 guest am i to have light my northern room why to cordiality so averse to come other friends adjourn other bonds decay why avoid so narrowly my fidelity    1662 he went by sleep that drowsy route to the surmising inn    at day break to begin his race or ever to remain    1663 his mind of man, a secret makes i meet him with a start he carries a circumference in which i have no part    or even if i deem i do he otherwise may know impregnable to inquest however neighborly    1664 i did not reach thee but my feet slip nearer every day three rivers and a hill to cross one desert and a sea i shall not count the journey one when i am telling thee. two deserts, but the year is cold so that will help the sand one desert crossed    the second one will feel as cool as land sahara is too little price to pay for thy right hand. the sea comes last    step merry, feet, so short we have to go    to play together we are prone, but we must labor now, the last shall be the lightest load that we have had to draw. the sun goes crooked    that is night before he makes the bend. we must have passed the middle sea    almost we wish the end were further off    too great it seems so near the whole to stand. we step like plush, we stand like snow, the waters murmur new. three rivers and the hill are passed    two deserts and the sea! now death usurps my premium and gets the look at thee. 1665 i know of people in the grave who would be very glad to know the news i know tonight if they the chance had had. 'tis this expands the least event and swells the scantest deed    my right to walk upon the earth if they this moment had. 1666 i see thee clearer for the grave that took thy face between no mirror could illumine thee like that impassive stone    i know thee better for the act that made thee first unknown the stature of the empty nest attests the bird that's gone. 1667 i watcher her face to see which way she took the awful news    whether she died before she heard or in protracted bruise remained a few slow years with us    each heavier than the last    a further afternoon to fail, as flower at fall of frost. 1668 if i could tell how glad i was i should not be so glad    but when i cannot make the force, nor mould it into word, i know it is a sign that new dilemna be from mathematics further off than for eternity. 1669 in snow thou comest    thou shalt go with the resuming ground, the sweet derision of the crow, and glee's advancing sound. in fear thou comest    thou shalt go at such a gait of joy that man anew embark to live upon the depth of thee. 1670 in winter in my room i came upon a worm    pink, lank and warm    but as he was a worm and worms presume not quite with him at home    secured him by a string to something neighboring and went along. a trifle afterward a thing occurred i'd not believe it if i heard but state with creeping blood    a snake with mottles rare surveyed my chamber floor in feature as the worm before but ringed with power    the very string with which i tied him    too when he was mean and new that string was there    i shrank    "how fair you are"! propitiation's claw    "afraid," he hissed "of me"? "no cordiality"    he fathomed me    then to a rhythm slim secreted in his form as patterns swim projected him. that time i flew both eyes his way lest he pursue nor ever ceased to run till in a distant town towns on from mine i set me down this was a dream. 1671 judgment is justest when the judged, his action laid away, divested is of every disk but his sincerity. honor is then the safest hue in a posthumous sun    not any color will endure that scrutiny can burn. 1672 lightly stepped a yellow star to its lofty place    loosed the moon her silver hat from her lustral face    all of evening softly lit as an astral hall    father, i observed to heaven, you are punctual. 1673 nature can do no more she has fulfilled her dyes whatever flower fail to come of other summer days her crescent reimburse if other summers be nature's imposing negative nulls opportunity    1674 not any sunny tone from any fervent zone find entrance there    better a grave of balm toward human nature's home    and robins near    than a stupendous tomb proclaiming to the gloom how dead we are    1675 of this is day composed a morning and a noon a revelry unspeakable and then a gay unknown whose pomps allure and spurn and dower and deprive and penury for glory remedilessly leave. 1676 of yellow was the outer sky in yellower yellow hewn till saffron in vermilion slid whose seam could not be shewn. 1677 on my volcano grows the grass a meditative spot    an acre for a bird to choose would be the general thought    how red the fire rocks below    how insecure the sod did i disclose would populate with awe my solitude. 1678 peril as a possesssion 'tis good to hear danger disintegrates satiety there's basis there    begets an awe that searches human nature's creases as clean as fire. 1679 rather arid delight if contentment accrue make an abstemious ecstasy not so good as joy    but rapture's expense must not be incurred with a tomorrow knocking and the rent unpaid    1680 sometimes with the heart seldom with the soul scarcer once with the might few    love at all. 1681 speech is one symptom of affection and silence one    the perfectest communication is heard of none    exists and its indorsement is had within    behold, said the apostle, yet had not seen! 1682 summer begins to have the look peruser of enchanting book reluctantly but sure perceives a gain upon the backward leaves    autumn begins to be inferred by millinery of the cloud or deeper color in the shawl that wraps the everlasting hill. the eye begins its avarice a meditation chastens speech some dyer of a distant tree resumes his gaudy industry. conclusion is the course of all at most to be perennial and then elude stability recalls to immortality. 1683 that she forgot me was the least i felt it second pain that i was worthy to forget was most i thought upon. faithful was all that i could boast but constancy became to her, by her innominate, a something like a shame. 1684 the blunder is in estimate. eternity is there we say, as of a station    meanwhile he is so near he joins me in my ramble    divides abode with me    no friend have i that so persists as this eternity. 1685 the butterfly obtains but little sympathy though favorably mentioned in entomology    because he travels freely and wears a proper coat the circumspect are certain that he is dissolute    had he the homely scutcheon of modest industry 'twere fitter certifying for immortality    1686 the event was directly behind him yet he did not guess fitted itself to himself like a robe relished his ignorance. motioned itself to drill loaded and levelled and let his flesh centuries from his soul. 1687 the gleam of an heroic act such strange illumination the possible's slow fuse is lit by the imagination. 1688 the hills erect their purple heads the rivers lean to see yet man has not of all the throng a curiosity. 1689 the look of thee, what is it like hast thou a hand or foot or mansion of identity and what is thy pursuit? thy fellows are they realms or themes hast thou delight or fear or longing    and is that for us or values more severe? let change transfuse all other traits enact all other blame but deign this least certificate    that thou shalt be the same. 1690 the ones that disappeared are back the phoebe and the crow precisely as in march is heard the curtness of the jay    be this an autumn or a spring my wisdom loses way one side of me the nuts are ripe the other side is may. 1691 the overtakelessness of those who have accomplished death majestic is to me beyond the majesties of earth. the soul her "not at home" inscribes upon the flesh    and takes her fair aerial gait beyond the hope of touch. 1692 the right to perish might be thought an undisputed right    attempt it, and the universe upon the opposite will concentrate its officers    you cannot even die but nature and mankind must pause to pay you scrutiny. 1693 the sun retired to a cloud a woman's shawl as big    and then he sulked in mercury upon a scarlet log    the drops on nature's forehead stood home flew the loaded bees    the south unrolled a purple fan and handed to the trees. 1694 the wind drew off like hungry dogs defeated of a bone    through fissures in volcanic cloud the yellow lightning shone    the trees held up their mangled limbs like animals in pain    when nature falls upon herself beware an austrian. 1695 there is a solitude of space a solitude of sea a solitude of death, but these society shall be compared with that profounder site that polar privacy a soul admitted to itself    finite infinity. 1696 these are the days that reindeer love and pranks the northern star    this is the sun's objective, and finland of the year. 1697 they talk as slow as legends grow no mushroom is their mind but foliage of sterility too stolid for the wind    they laugh as wise as plots of wit predestined to unfold the point with bland prevision portentously untold. 1698 'tis easier to pity those when dead that which pity previous would have saved    a tragedy enacted secures applause that tragedy enacting too seldom does. 1699 to do a magnanimous thing and take oneself by surprise if oneself is not in the habit of him is precisely the finest of joys    not to do a magnanimous thing notwithstanding it never be known notwithstanding it cost us existence once is rapture herself spurn    1700 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    1701 to their apartment deep no ribaldry may creep untumbled this abode by any man but god    1702 today or this noon she dwelt so close i almost touched her    tonight she lies past neighborhood and bough and steeple, now past surmise. 1703 '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 to hear the children play    but wrong the more that these could live and this of ours must die. 1704 unto a broken heart no other one may go without the high prerogative itself hath suffered too. 1705 volcanoes be in sicily and south america i judge from my geography    volcanos nearer here a lava step at any time am i inclined to climb    a crater i may contemplate vesuvius at home. 1706 when we have ceased to care the gift is given for which we gave the earth and mortgaged heaven but so declined in worth 'tis ignominy now to look upon    1707 winter under cultivation is as arable as spring. 1708 witchcraft has not a pedigree 'tis early as our breath and mourners meet it going out the moment of our death    1709 with sweetness unabated informed the hour had come with no remiss of triumph the autumn started home her home to be with nature as competition done by influential kinsmen invited to return    in supplements of purple an adequate repast in heavenly reviewing her residue be past    1710 a curious cloud surprised the sky, 'twas like a sheet with horns; the sheet was blue    the antlers gray    it almost touched the lawns. so low it leaned    then statelier drew    and trailed like robes away, a queen adown a satin aisle had not the majesty. 1711 a face devoid of love or grace, a hateful, hard, successful face, a face with which a stone would feel as thoroughly at ease as were they old acquaintances    first time together thrown. 1712 a pit    but heaven over it    and heaven beside, and heaven abroad, and yet a pit    with heaven over it. to stir would be to slip    to look would be to drop    to dream    to sap the prop that holds my chances up. ah! pit! with heaven over it! the depth is all my thought    i dare not ask my feet    'twould start us where we sit so straight you'd scarce suspect it was a pit    with fathoms under it    its circuit just the same. seed    summer    tomb    whose doom to whom? 1713 as subtle as tomorrow that never came, a warrant, a conviction, yet but a name. 1714 by a departing light we see acuter, quite, than by a wick that stays. there's something in the flight that clarifies the sight and decks the rays. 1715 consulting summer's clock, but half the hours remain. i ascertain it with a shock    i shall not look again. the second half of joy is shorter than the first. the truth i do not dare to know i muffle with a jest. 1716 death is like the insect menacing the tree, competent to kill it, but decoyed may be. bait it with the balsam, seek it with the saw, baffle, if it cost you everything you are. then, if it have burrowed out of reach of skill    wring the tree and leave it, 'tis the vermin's will. 1717 did life's penurious length italicize its sweetness, the men that daily live would stand so deep in joy that it would clog the cogs of that revolving reason whose esoteric belt protects our sanity. 1718 drowning is not so pitiful as the attempt to rise three times, 'tis said, a sinking man comes up to face the skies, and then declines forever to that abhorred abode, where hope and he part company    for he is grasped of god. the maker's cordial visage, however good to see, is shunned, we must admit it, like an adversity. 1719 god is indeed a jealous god    he cannot bear to see that we had rather not with him but with each other play. 1720 had i known that the first was the last i should have kept it longer. had i known that the last was the first i should have drunk it stronger. cup, it was your fault, lip was not the liar. no, lip, it was yours, bliss was most to blame. 1721 he was my host    he was my guest, i never to this day if i invited him could tell, or he invited me. so infinite our intercourse so intimate, indeed, analysis as capsule seemed to keeper of the seed. 1722 her face was in a bed of hair, like flowers in a plot    her hand was whiter than the sperm that feeds the sacred light. her tongue more tender than the tune that totters in the leaves    who hears may be incredulous, who witnesses, believes. 1723 high from the earth i heard a bird, he trod upon the trees as he esteemed them trifles, and then he spied a breeze, and situated softly upon a pile of wind which in a perturbation nature had left behind. a joyous going fellow i gathered from his talk which both of benediction and badinage partook. without apparent burden i subsequently learned he was the faithful father of a dependent brood. and this untoward transport his remedy for care. a contrast to our respites. how different we are! 1724 how dare the robins sing, when men and women hear who since they went to their account have settled with the year!    paid all that life had earned in one consummate bill, and now, what life or death can do is immaterial. insulting is the sun to him whose mortal light beguiled of immortality bequeaths him to the night. extinct be every hum in deference to him whose garden wrestles with the dew, at daybreak overcome! 1725 i took one draught of life    i'll tell you what i paid    precisely an existence    the market price, they said. they weighed me, dust by dust    they balanced film with film, then handed me my being's worth    a single dram of heaven! 1726 if all the griefs i am to have would only come today, i am so happy i believe they'd laugh and run away. if all the joys i am to have would only come today, they could not be so big as this that happens to me now. 1727 if ever the lid gets off my head and lets the brain away the fellow will go where he belonged    without a hint from me, and the world    if the world be looking on    will see how far from home it is possible for sense to live the soul there    all the time. 1728 is immortality a bane that men are so oppressed? 1729 i've got an arrow here. loving the hand that sent it i the dart revere. fell, they will say, in "skirmish"! vanquished, my soul will know by but a simple arrow sped by an archer's bow. 1730 "lethe" in my flower, of which they who drink in the fadeless orchards hear the bobolink! merely flake or petal as the eye beholds jupiter! my father! i perceive the rose! 1731 love can do all but raise the dead i doubt if even that from such a giant were withheld were flesh equivalent but love is tired and must sleep, and hungry and must graze and so abets the shining fleet till it is out of gaze. 1732 my life closed twice before its close    it yet remains to see if immortality unveil a third event to me so huge, so hopeless to conceive as these that twice befell. parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell. 1733 no man saw awe, nor to his house admitted he a man though by his awful residence has human nature been. not deeming of his dread abode till laboring to flee a grasp on comprehension laid detained vitality. returning is a different route the spirit could not show for breathing is the only work to be enacted now. "am not consumed," old moses wrote, "yet saw him face to face"    that very physiognomy i am convinced was this. 1734 oh, honey of an hour, i never knew thy power, prohibit me till my minutest dower, my unfrequented flower, deserving be. 1735 one crown that no one seeks and yet the highest head its isolation coveted its stigma deified while pontius pilate lives in whatsoever hell that coronation pierces him he recollects it well. 1736 proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it, proud of the pain i did not feel till thee, proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it, not to partake thy passion, my humility. thou can'st not boast, like jesus, drunken without companion was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the nazarene thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture, see! i usurped thy crucifix to honor mine! 1737 rearrange a "wife's" affection! when they dislocate my brain! amputate my freckled bosom! make me bearded like a man! blush, my spirit, in thy fastness    blush, my unacknowledged clay    seven years of troth have taught thee more than wifehood every may! love that never leaped its socket    trust entrenched in narrow pain    constancy thro' fire    awarded    anguish    bare of anodyne! burden    borne so far triumphant    none suspect me of the crown, for i wear the "thorns" till sunset    then    my diadem put on. big my secret but it's bandaged    it will never get away till the day its weary keeper leads it through the grave to thee. 1738 softened by time's consummate plush, how sleek the woe appears that threatened childhood's citadel and undermined the years. bisected now, by bleaker griefs, we envy the despair that devastated childhood's realm, so easy to repair. 1739 some say goodnight    at night    i say goodnight by day    good bye    the going utter me    goodnight, i still reply    for parting, that is night, and presence, simply dawn    itself, the purple on the height denominated morn. 1740 sweet is the swamp with its secrets, until we meet a snake; 'tis then we sigh for houses, and our departure take at that enthralling gallop that only childhood knows. a snake is summer's treason, and guile is where it goes. 1741 that it will never come again is what makes life so sweet. believing what we don't believe does not exhilarate. that if it be, it be at best an ablative estate    this instigates an appetite precisely opposite. 1742 the distance that the dead have gone does not at first appear    their coming back seems possible for many an ardent year. and then, that we have followed them, we more than half suspect, so intimate have we become with their dear retrospect. 1743 the grave my little cottage is, where "keeping house" for thee i make my parlor orderly and lay the marble tea. for two divided, briefly, a cycle, it may be, till everlasting life unite in strong society. 1744 the joy that has no stem no core, nor seed that we can sow, is edible to longing. but ablative to show. by fundamental palates those products are preferred impregnable to transit and patented by pod. 1745 the mob within the heart police cannot suppress the riot given at the first is authorized as peace uncertified of scene or signified of sound but growing like a hurricane in a congenial ground. 1746 the most important population unnoticed dwell, they have a heaven each instant not any hell. their names, unless you know them, 'twere useless tell. of bumble bees and other nations the grass is full. 1747 the parasol is the umbrella's daughter, and associates with a fan while her father abuts the tempest and abridges the rain. the former assists a siren in her serene display; but her father is borne and honored, and borrowed to this day. 1748 the reticent volcano keeps his never slumbering plan    confided are his projects pink to no precarious man. if nature will not tell the tale jehovah told to her can human nature not survive without a listener? admonished by her buckled lips let every babbler be the only secret people keep is immortality. 1749 the waters chased him as he fled, not daring look behind    a billow whispered in his ear, "come home with me, my friend    my parlor is of shriven glass, my pantry has a fish for every palate in the year"    to this revolting bliss the object floating at his side made no distinct reply. 1750 the words the happy say are paltry melody but those the silent feel are beautiful    1751 there comes an hour when begging stops, when the long interceding lips perceive their prayer is vain. "thou shalt not" is a kinder sword than from a disappointing god "disciple, call again." 1752 this docile one inter while we who dare to live arraign the sunny brevity that sparkled to the grave. on her departing span no wilderness remain as dauntless in the house of death as if it were her own    1753 through those old grounds of memory, the sauntering alone is a divine intemperance a prudent man would shun. of liquors that are vended 'tis easy to beware but statutes do not meddle with the internal bar. pernicious as the sunset permitting to pursue but impotent to gather, the tranquil perfidy alloys our firmer moments with that severest gold convenient to the longing but otherwise withheld. 1754 to lose thee    sweeter than to gain all other hearts i knew. 'tis true the drought is destitute, but then, i had the dew! the caspian has its realms of sand, its other realm of sea. without the sterile perquisite, no caspian could be. 1755 to make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, one clover, and a bee, and revery. the revery alone will do, if bees are few. 1756 'twas here my summer paused what ripeness after then to other scene or other soul my sentence had begun. to winter to remove with winter to abide go manacle your icicle against your tropic bride. 1757 upon the gallows hung a wretch, too sullied for the hell to which the law entitled him. as nature's curtain fell the one who bore him tottered in ,    for this was woman's son. "'twere all i had," she stricken gasped    oh, what a livid boon! 1758 where every bird is bold to go and bees abashless play, the foreigner before he knocks must thrust the tears away. 1759 which misses most, the hand that tends, or heart so gently borne, 'tis twice as heavy as it was because the hand is gone? which blesses most, the lip that can, or that that went to sleep with "if i could" endeavoring without the strength to shape? 1760 elysium is as far as to the very nearest room if in that room a friend await felicity or doom    what fortitude the soul contains, that it can so endure the accent of a coming foot    the opening of a door    1761 a train went through a burial gate, a bird broke forth and sang, and trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat till all the churchyard rang; and then adjusted his little notes, and bowed and sang again. doubtless, he thought it meet of him to say good by to men. 1762 were natural mortal lady who had so little time to pack her trunk and order the great exchange of clime    how rapid, how momentous    what exigencies were    but nature will be ready and have an hour to spare. to make some trifle fairer that was too fair before    enchanting by remaining, and by departure more. 1763 fame is a bee. it has a song    it has a sting    ah, too, it has a wing. 1764 the saddest noise, the sweetest noise, the maddest noise that grows,    the birds, they make it in the spring, at night's delicious close. between the march and april line    that magical frontier beyond which summer hesitates, almost too heavenly near. it makes us think of all the dead that sauntered with us here, by separation's sorcery made cruelly more dear. it makes us think of what we had, and what we now deplore. we almost wish those siren throats would go and sing no more. an ear can break a human heart as quickly as a spear, we wish the ear had not a heart so dangerously near. 1765 that love is all there is, is all we know of love; it is enough, the freight should be proportioned to the groove. 1766 those final creatures,    who they are    that, faithful to the close, administer her ecstasy, but just the summer knows. 1767 sweet hours have perished here; this is a mighty room; within its precincts hopes have played,    now shadows in the tomb. 1768 lad of athens, faithful be to thyself, and mystery    all the rest is perjury    1769 the longest day that god appoints will finish with the sun. anguish can travel to its stake, and then it must return. 1770 experiment escorts us last    his pungent company will not allow an axiom an opportunity 1771 how fleet    how indiscreet an one    how always wrong is love    the joyful little deity we are not scourged to serve    1772 let me not thirst with this hock at my lip, nor beg, with domains in my pocket    1773 the summer that we did not prize, her treasures were so easy instructs us by departing now and recognition lazy    bestirs itself    puts on its coat, and scans with fatal promptness for trains that moment out of sight, unconscious of his smartness. 1774 too happy time dissolves itself and leaves no remnant by    'tis anguish not a feather hath or too much weight to fly    1775 the earth has many keys, where melody is not is the unknown peninsula. beauty is nature's fact. but witness for her land, and witness for her sea, the cricket is her utmost of elegy to me. 19 a sepal, petal, and a thorn upon a common summer's morn    a flask of dew    a bee or two    a breeze    a caper in the trees    and i'm a rose! 20 distrustful of the gentian    and just to turn away, the fluttering of her fringes child my perfidy    weary for my            i will singing go    i shall not feel the sleet    then    i shall not fear the snow. flees so the phantom meadow before the breathless bee    so bubble brooks in deserts on ears that dying lie    burn so the evening spires to eyes that closing go    hangs so distant heaven    to a hand below. 21 we lose    because we win    gamblers    recollecting which toss their dice again! 22 all these my banners be. i sow my pageantry in may    it rises train by train    then sleeps in state again    my chancel    all the plain today. to lose    if one can find again    to miss    if one shall meet    the burglar cannot rob    then    the broker cannot cheat. so build the hillocks gaily thou little spade of mine leaving nooks for daisy and for columbine    you and i the secret of the crocus know    let us chant it softly    "there is no more snow!" to him who keeps an orchis' heart    the swamps are pink with june. 23 i had a guinea golden    i lost it in the sand    and tho' the sum was simple and pounds were in the land    still, had it such a value unto my frugal eye    that when i could not find it    i sat me down to sigh. i had a crimson robin    who sang full many a day but when the woods were painted, he, too, did fly away    time brought me other robins    their ballads were the same    still, for my missing troubador i kept the "house at hame." i had a star in heaven    one "pleiad" was its name    and when i was not heeding, it wandered from the same. and tho' the skies are crowded    and all the night ashine    i do not care about it    since none of them are mine. my story has a moral    i have a missing friend    "pleiad" its name, and robin, and guinea in the sand. and when this mournful ditty accompanied with tear    shall meet the eye of traitor in country far from here    grant that repentance solemn may seize upon his mind    and he no consolation beneath the sun may find. 24 there is a morn by men unseen    whose maids upon remoter green keep their seraphic may    and all day long, with dance and game, and gambol i may never name    employ their holiday. here to light measure, move the feet which walk no more the village street    nor by the wood are found    here are the birds that sought the sun when last year's distaff idle hung and summer's brows were bound. ne'er saw i such a wondrous scene    ne'er such a ring on such a green    nor so serene array    as if the stars some summer night should swing their cups of chrysolite    and revel till the day    like thee to dance    like thee to sing    people upon the mystic green    i ask, each new may morn. i wait thy far, fantastic bells    unto the different dawn! 25 she slept beneath a tree    remembered but by me. i touched her cradle mute    she recognized the foot    put on her suit and see! 26 it's all i have to bring today    this, and my heart beside    this, and my heart, and all the fields    and all the meadows wide    be sure you count    should i forget some one the sum could tell    this, and my heart, and all the bees which in the clover dwell. 27 morns like these    we parted    noons like these    she rose    fluttering first    then firmer to her fair repose. never did she lisp it    it was not for me    she    was mute from transport    i    from agony    till    the evening nearing one the curtains drew    quick! a sharper rustling! and this linnet flew! 28 so has a daisy vanished from the fields today    so tiptoed many a slipper to paradise away    oozed so in crimson bubbles day's departing tide    blooming    tripping    flowing are ye then with god? 29 if those i loved were lost the crier's voice would tell me    if those i loved were found the bells of ghent would ring    did those i loved repose the daisy would impel me. philip    when bewildered bore his riddle in! 30 adrift! a little boat adrift! and night is coming down! will no one guide a little boat unto the nearest town? so sailors say    on yesterday    just as the dusk was brown one little boat gave up its strife and gurgled down and down. so angels say    on yesterday    just as the dawn was red one little boat    o'erspent with gales    retrimmed its masts    redecked its sails    and shot    exultant on! 31 summer for thee, grant i may be when summer days are flown! thy music still, when whipporwill and oriole    are done! for thee to bloom, i'll skip the tomb and row my blossoms o'er! pray gather me    anemone    thy flower    forevermore! 32 when roses cease to bloom, sir, and violets are done    when bumblebees in solemn flight have passed beyond the sun    the hand that paused to gather upon this summer's day will idle lie    in auburn    then take my flowers    pray! 33 if recollecting were forgetting, then i remember not. and if forgetting, recollecting, how near i had forgot. and if to miss, were merry, and to mourn, were gay, how very blithe the fingers that gathered this, today! 34 garland for queens, may be    laurels    for rare degree of soul or sword. ah    but remembering me    ah    but remembering thee    nature in chivalry    nature in charity    nature in equity    this rose ordained! 35 nobody knows this little rose    it might a pilgrim be did i not take it from the ways and lift it up to thee. only a bee will miss it    only a butterfly, hastening from far journey    on its breast to lie    only a bird will wonder    only a breeze will sigh    ah little rose    how easy for such as thee to die! 36 snow flakes. i counted till they danced so their slippers leaped the town, and then i took a pencil to note the rebels down. and then they grew so jolly i did resign the prig, and ten of my once stately toes are marshalled for a jig! 37 before the ice is in the pools    before the skaters go, or any check at nightfall is tarnished by the snow    before the fields have finished, before the christmas tree, wonder upon wonder will arrive to me! what we touch the hems of on a summer's day    what is only walking just a bridge away    that which sings so    speaks so    when there's no one here    will the frock i wept in answer me to wear? 38 by such and such an offering to mr. so and so, the web of live woven    so martyrs albums show! 39 it did not surprise me    so i said    or thought    she will stir her pinions and the nest forgot, traverse broader forests    build in gayer boughs, breathe in ear more modern god's old fashioned vows    this was but a birdling    what and if it be one within my bosom had departed me? this was but a story    what and if indeed there were just such coffin in the heart instead? 40 when i count the seeds that are sown beneath, to bloom so, bye and bye    when i con the people lain so low, to be received as high    when i believe the garden mortal shall not see    pick by faith its blossom and avoid its bee, i can spare this summer, unreluctantly. 41 i robbed the woods    the trusting woods. the unsuspecting trees brought out their burs and mosses my fantasy to please. i scanned their trinkets curious    i grasped    i bore away    what will the solemn hemlock    what will the oak tree say? 42 a day! help! help! another day! your prayers, oh passer by! from such a common ball as this might date a victory! from marshallings as simple the flags of nations swang. steady    my soul: what issues upon thine arrow hang! 43 could live    did live    could die    did die    could smile upon the whole through faith in one he met not, to introduce his soul. could go from scene familiar to an untraversed spot    could contemplate the journey with unpuzzled heart    such trust had one among us, among us not today    we who saw the launching never sailed the bay! 44 if she had been the mistletoe and i had been the rose    how gay upon your table my velvet life to close    since i am of the druid, and she is of the dew    i'll deck tradition's buttonhole    and send the rose to you. 45 there's something quieter than sleep within this inner room! it wears a sprig upon its breast    and will not tell its name. some touch it, and some kiss it    some chafe its idle hand    it has a simple gravity i do not understand! i would not weep if i were they    how rude in one to sob! might scare the quiet fairy back to her native wood! while simple hearted neighbors chat of the "early dead"    we    prone to periphrasis remark that birds have fled! 46 i keep my pledge. i was not called    death did not notice me. i bring my rose. i plight again, by every sainted bee    by daisy called from hillside    by bobolink from lane. blossom and i    her oath, and mine    will surely come again. 47 heart! we will forget him! you and i    tonight! you may forget the warmth he gave    i will forget the light! when you have done, pray tell me that i may straight begin! haste! lest while you're lagging i remember him! 48 once more, my now bewildered dove bestirs her puzzled wings once more her mistress, on the deep her troubled question flings    thrice to the floating casement the patriarch's bird returned, courage! my brave columbia! there may yet be land 49 i never lost as much but twice, and that was in the sod. twice have i stood a beggar before the door of god! angels    twice descending reimbursed my store    burglar! banker    father! i am poor once more! 50 i haven't told my garden yet    lest that should conquer me. i haven't quite the strength now to break it to the bee    i will not name it in the street for shops would stare at me    that one so shy    so ignorant should have the face to die. the hillsides must not know it    where i have rambled so    nor tell the loving forests the day that i shall go    nor lisp it at the table    nor heedless by the way hint that within the riddle one will walk today    51 i often passed the village when going home from school    and wondered what they did there    and why it was so still    i did not know the year then    in which my call would come    earlier, by the dial, than the rest have gone. it's stiller than the sundown. it's cooler than the dawn    the daisies dare to come here    and birds can flutter down    so when you are tired    or perplexed    or cold    trust the loving promise underneath the mould, cry "it's i," "take dollie," and i will enfold! 52 whether my bark went down at sea    whether she met with gales    whether to isles enchanted she bent her docile sails    by what mystic mooring she is held today    this is the errand of the eye out upon the bay. 53 taken from men    this morning    carried by men today    met by the gods with banners    who marshalled her away    one little maid    from playmates    one little mind from school    there must be guests in eden    all the rooms are full    far    as the east from even    dim    as the border star    courtiers quaint, in kingdoms our departed are. 54 if i should die, and you should live    and time should gurgle on    and morn should beam    and noon should burn    as it has usual done    if birds should build as early and bees as bustling go    one might depart at option from enterprise below! 'tis sweet to know that stocks will stand when we with daisies lie    that commerce will continue    and trades as briskly fly    it makes the parting tranquil and keeps the soul serene    that gentlemen so sprightly conduct the pleasing scene! 55 by chivalries as tiny, a blossom, or a book, the seeds of smiles are planted    which blossom in the dark. 56 if i should cease to bring a rose upon a festal day, 'twill be because beyond the rose i have been called away    if i should cease to take the names my buds commemorate    'twill be because death's finger claps my murmuring lip! 57 to venerate the simple days which lead the seasons by, needs but to remember that from you or i, they may take the trifle termed mortality! 58 delayed till she had ceased to know    delayed till in its vest of snow her loving bosom lay    an hour behind the fleeting breath    later by just an hour than death    oh lagging yesterday! could she have guessed that it would be    could but a crier of the joy have climbed the distant hill    had not the bliss so slow a pace who knows but this surrendered face were undefeated still? oh if there may departing be any forgot by victory in her imperial round    show them this meek appareled thing that could not stop to be a king    doubtful if it be crowned! 59 a little east of jordan, evangelists record, a gymnast and an angel did wrestle long and hard    till morning touching mountain    and jacob, waxing strong, the angel begged permission to breakfast    to return    not so, said cunning jacob! "i will not let thee go except thou bless me"    stranger! the which acceded to    light swung the silver fleeces "peniel" hills beyond, and the bewildered gymnast found he had worsted god! 60 like her the saints retire, in their chapeaux of fire, martial as she! like her the evenings steal purple and cochineal after the day! "departed"    both    they say! i.e. gathered away, not found, argues the aster still    reasons the daffodil profound! 61 papa above! regard a mouse o'erpowered by the cat! reserve within thy kingdom a "mansion" for the rat! snug in seraphic cupboards to nibble all the day while unsuspecting cycles wheel solemnly away! 62 "sown in dishonor"! ah! indeed! may this "dishonor" be? if i were half so fine myself i'd notice nobody! "sown in corruption"! not so fast! apostle is askew! corinthians 1. 15. narrates a circumstance or two! 63 if pain for peace prepares lo, what "augustan" years our feet await! if springs from winter rise, can the anemones be reckoned up? if night stands fast    then noon to gird us for the sun, what gaze! when from a thousand skies on our developed eyes noons blaze! 64 some rainbow    coming from the fair! some vision of the world cashmere    i confidently see! or else a peacock's purple train feather by feather    on the plain fritters itself away! the dreamy butterflies bestir! lethargic pools resume the whir of last year's sundered tune! from some old fortress on the sun baronial bees    march    one by one    in murmuring platoon! the robins stand as thick today as flakes of snow stood yesterday    on fence    and roof    and twig! the orchis binds her feather on for her old lover   don the sun! revisiting the bog! without commander! countless! still! the regiments of wood and hill in bright detachment stand! behold! whose multitudes are these? the children of whose turbaned seas    or what circassian land? 65 i can't tell you    but you feel it    nor can you tell me    saints, with ravished slate and pencil solve our april day! sweeter than a vanished frolic from a vanished green! swifter than the hoofs of horsemen round a ledge of dream! modest, let us walk among it with our faces veiled    as they say polite archangels do in meeting god! not for me    to prate about it! not for you    to say to some fashionable lady "charming april day"! rather    heaven's "peter parley"! by which children slow to sublimer recitation are prepared to go! 66 so from the mould scarlet and gold many a bulb will rise    hidden away, cunningly, from sagacious eyes. so from cocoon many a worm leap so highland gay, peasants like me, peasants like thee gaze perplexedly! 67 success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed. to comprehend a nectar requires sorest need. not one of all the purple host who took the flag today can tell the definition so clear of victory as he defeated    dying    on whose forbidden ear the distant strains of triumph burst agonized and clear! 68 ambition cannot find him. affection doesn't know how many leagues of nowhere lie between them now. yesterday, undistinguished! eminent today for our mutual hone, immortality! 69 low at my problem bending, another problem comes    larger than mine    serener    involving statelier sums. i check my busy pencil, my figures file away. wherefore, my baffled fingers they perplexity? 70 "arcturus" is his other name    i'd rather call him "star." it's very mean of science to go and interfere! i slew a worm the other day    a "savant" passing by murmured "resurgam"    "centipede"! "oh lord    how frail are we"! i pull a flower from the woods    a monster with a glass computes the stamens in a breath    and has her in a "class"! whereas i took the butterfly aforetime in my hat    he sits erect in "cabinets"    the clover bells forgot. what once was "heaven" is "zenith" now    where i proposed to go when time's brief masquerade was done is mapped and charted too. what if the poles should frisk about and stand upon their heads! i hope i'm ready for "the worst"    whatever prank betides! perhaps the "kingdom of heaven's" changed    i hope the "children" there won't be "new fashioned" when i come    and laugh at me    and stare    i hope the father in the skies will lift his little girl    old fashioned    naught    everything    over the stile of "pearl." 71 a throe upon the features    a hurry in the breath    an ecstasy of parting denominated "death"    an anguish at the mention which when to patience grown, i've known permission given to rejoin its own. 72 glowing is her bonnet, glowing is her cheek, glowing is her kirtle, yet she cannot speak. better as the daisy from the summer hill vanish unrecorded save by tearful rill    save by loving sunrise looking for her face. save by feet unnumbered pausing at the place. 73 who never lost, are unprepared a coronet to find! who never thirsted flagons, and cooling tamarind! who never climbed the weary league    can such a foot explore the purple territories on pizarro's shore? how many legions overcome    the emperor will say? how many colors taken on revolution day? how many bullets bearest? hast thou the royal scar? angels! write "promoted" on this soldier's brow! 74 a lady red    amid the hill her annual secret keeps! a lady white, within the field in placid lily sleeps! the tidy breezes, with their brooms    sweep vale    and hill    and tree! prithee, my pretty housewives! who may expected be? the neighbors do not yet suspect! the woods exchange a smile! orchard, and buttercup, and bird    in such a little while! and yet, how still the landscape stands! how nonchalant the hedge! as if the "resurrection" were nothing very strange! 75 she died at play, gambolled away her lease of spotted hours, then sank as gaily as a turn upon a couch of flowers. her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill yesterday, and today, her vestments as the silver fleece    her countenance as spray. 76 exultation is the going of an inland soul to sea, past the houses    past the headlands    into deep eternity    bred as we, among the mountains, can the sailor understand the divine intoxication of the first league out from land? 77 i never hear the word "escape" without a quicker blood, a sudden expectation a flying attitude! i never hear of prisons broad by soldiers battered down, but i tug childish at my bars only to fail again! 78 a poor    torn heart    a tattered heart    that sat it down to rest    nor noticed that the ebbing day flowed silver to the west    nor noticed night did soft descend    nor constellation burn    intent upon the vision of latitudes unknown. the angels    happening that way this dusty heart espied    tenderly took it up from toil and carried it to god    there    sandals for the barefoot    there    gathered from the gales    do the blue havens by the hand lead the wandering sails. 79 going to heaven! i don't know when    pray do not ask me how! indeed i'm too astonished to think of answering you! going to heaven! how dim it sounds! and yet it will be done as sure as flocks go home at night unto the shepherd's arm! perhaps you're going too! who knows? if you should get there first save just a little space for me close to the two i lost    the smallest "robe" will fit me and just a bit of "crown"    for you know we do not mind our dress when we are going home    i'm glad i don't believe it for it would stop my breath    and i'd like to look a little more at such a curious earth! i'm glad they did believe it whom i have never found since the might autumn afternoon i left them in the ground. 80 our lives are swiss    so still    so cool    till some odd afternoon the alps neglect their curtains and we look farther on! italy stands the other side! while like a guard between    the solemn alps    the siren alps forever intervene! 81 we should not mind so small a flower    except it quiet bring our little garden that we lost back to the lawn again. so spicy her carnations nod    so drunken, reel her bees    so silver steal a hundred flutes from out a hundred trees    that whoso sees this little flower by faith may clear behold the bobolinks around the throne and dandelions gold. 82 whose cheek is this? what rosy face has lost a blush today? i found her    "pleiad"    in the woods and bore her safe away. robins, in the tradition did cover such with leaves, but which the cheek    and which the pall my scrutiny deceives. 83 heart, not so heavy as mine wending late home    as it passed my window whistled itself a tune    a careless snatch    a ballad    a ditty of the street    yet to my irritated ear an anodyne so sweet    it was as if a bobolink sauntering this way carolled, and paused, and carolled    then bubbled slow away! it was as if a chirping brook upon a dusty way    set bleeding feet to minuets without the knowing why! tomorrow, night will come again    perhaps, weary and sore    ah bugle! by my window i pray you pass once more. 84 her breast is fit for pearls, but i was not a "diver"    her brow is fit for thrones but i have not a crest. her heart is fit for home    i    a sparrow    build there sweet of twigs and twine my perennial nest. 85 "they have not chosen me," he said, "but i have chosen them!" brave    broken hearted statement    uttered in bethlehem! i could not have told it, but since jesus dared    sovereign! know a daisy they dishonor shared! 86 south winds jostle them    bumblebees come    hover    hesitate    drink, and are gone    butterflies pause on their passage cashmere    i    softly plucking, present them here! 87 a darting fear    a pomp    a tear    a waking on a morn to find that what one waked for, inhales the different dawn. 88 as by the dead we love to sit, become so wondrous dear    as for the lost we grapple tho' all the rest are here    in broken mathematics we estimate our prize vast    in its fading ration to our penurious eyes! 89 some things that fly there be    birds    hours    the bumblebee    of these no elegy. some things that stay there be    grief    hills    eternity    nor this behooveth me. there are that resting, rise. can i expound the skies? how still the riddle lies! 90 within my reach! i could have touched! i might have chanced that way! soft sauntered thro' the village    sauntered as soft away! so unsuspected violets within the meadows go    too late for striving fingers that passed, an hour ago! 91 so bashful when i spied her! so pretty    so ashamed! so hidden in her leaflets lest anybody find    so breathless till i passed here    so helpless when i turned and bore her struggling, blushing, her simple haunts beyond! for whom i robbed the dingle    for whom i betrayed the dell    many, will doubtless ask me, but i shall never tell! 92 my friend must be a bird    because it flies! mortal, my friend must be, because it dies! barbs has it, like a bee! ah, curious friend! thou puzzlest me! 93 went up a year this evening! i recollect it well! amid no bells nor bravoes the bystanders will tell! cheerful    as to the village    tranquil    as to repose    chastened    as to the chapel this humble tourist rose! did not talk of returning! alluded to no time when, were the gales propitious    we might look for him! was grateful for the roses in life's diverse bouquet    talked softly of new species to pick another day; beguiling thus the wonder the wondrous nearer drew    hands bustled at the moorings    the crown respectful grew    ascended from our vision to countenances new! a difference    a daisy    is all the rest i knew! 94 angels, in the early morning may be seen the dews among, stooping    plucking    smiling    flying    do the buds to them belong? angels, when the sun is hottest may be seen the sands among, stooping    plucking    sighing    flying    parched the flowers they bear along. 95 my nosegays are for captives    dim    expectant eyes, fingers denied the plucking, patient till paradise. to such, if they should whisper of morning and the moor, they bear no other errand, and i, no other prayer. 96 sexton! my master's sleeping here. pray lead me to his bed! i came to build the bird's nest, and sow the early seed    that when the snow creeps slowly from off his chamber door    daisies point the way there    and the troubadour. 97 the rainbow never tells me that gust and storm are by, yet is she more convincing than philosophy. my flowers turn from forums    yet eloquent declare what cato couldn't prove me except the birds were here! 98 one dignity delays for all    one mitred afternoon    none can avoid this purple    none evade this crown! coach, it insures, and footmen    chamber, and state, and throng    bells, also, in the village as we ride grand along! what dignified attendants! what service when we pause! how loyally at parting their hundred hats they raise! her pomp surpassing ermine when simple you, and i, present our meek escutheon and claim the rank to die! 99 new feet within my garden go    new fingers stir the sod    a troubadour upon the elm betrays the solitude. new children play upon the green    new weary sleep below    and still the pensive spring returns    and still the punctual snow! 100 a science    so the savants say, "comparative anatomy"    by which a single bone    is made a secret to unfold of some rare tenant of the mold, else perished in the stone    so to the eye prospective led, this meekest flower of the mead upon a winter's day, stands representative in gold of rose and lily, manifold, and countless butterfly! 101 will there really be a "morning"? is there such a thing as "day"? could i see it from the mountains if i were as tall as they? has it feet like water lilies? has it feathers like a bird? is it brought from famous countries of which i have never heard? oh some scholar! oh some sailor! oh some wise men from the skies! please to tell a little pilgrim where the place called "morning" lies! 102 great caesar! condescend the daisy, to receive, gathered by cato's daughter, with your majestic leave! 103 i have a king, who does not speak    so    wondering    thro' the hours meek i trudge the day away    half glad when it is night, and sleep, if, haply, thro' a dream, to peep in parlors, shut by day. and if i do    when morning comes    it is as if a hundred drums did round my pillow roll, and shouts fill all my childish sky, and bells keep saying "victory" from steeples in my soul! and if i don't    the little bird within the orchard, is not heard, and i omit to pray "father, thy will be done" today for my will goes the other way, and it were perjury! 104 where i have lost, i softer tread    i sow sweet flower from garden bed    i pause above that vanished head and mourn. whom i have lost, i pious guard from accent harsh, or ruthless word    feeling as if their pillow heard, though stone! when i have lost, you'll know by this    a bonnet black    a dusk surplice    a little tremor in my voice like this! why, i have lost, the people know who dressed in flocks of purest snow went home a century ago next bliss! 105 to hang our head    ostensibly    and subsequent, to find that such was not the posture of our immortal mind    affords the sly presumption that in so dense a fuzz    you    too    take cobweb attitudes upon a plane of gauze! 106 the daisy follows soft the sun    and when his golden walk is done    sits shyly at his feet    he    waking    finds the flower there    wherefore    marauder    art thou here? because, sir, love is sweet! we are the flower    thou the sun! forgive us, if as days decline    we nearer steal to thee! enamored of the parting west    the peace    the flight    the amethyst    night's possibility! 107 'twas such a little    little boat that toddled down the bay! 'twas such a gallant    gallant sea that beckoned it away! 'twas such a greedy, greedy wave that licked it from the coast    nor ever guessed the stately sails my little craft was lost! 108 surgeons must be very careful when they take the knife! underneath their fine incisions stirs the culprit    life! 109 by a flower    by a letter    by a nimble love    if i weld the rivet faster    final fast    above    never mind my breathless anvil! never mind repose! never mind the sooty faces tugging at the forge! 110 artists wrestled here! lo, a tint cashmere! lo, a rose! student of the year! for the easel here say repose! 111 the bee is not afraid of me. i know the butterfly. the pretty people in the woods receive me cordially    the brooks laugh louder when i come    the breezes madder play; wherefore mine eye thy silver mists, wherefore, oh summer's day? 112 where bells no more affright the morn    where scrabble never comes    where very nimble gentlemen are forced to keep their rooms    where tired children placid sleep thro' centuries of noon this place is bliss    this town is heaven    please, pater, pretty soon! "oh could we climb where moses stood, and view the landscape o'er" not father's bells    nor factories, could scare us any more! 113 our share of night to bear    our share of morning    our blank in bliss to fill our blank in scorning    here a star, and there a star, some lose their way! here a mist, and there a mist, afterwards    day! 114 good night, because we must, how intricate the dust! i would go, to know! oh incognito! saucy, saucy seraph to elude me so! father! they won't tell me, won't you tell them to? 115 what inn is this where for the night peculiar traveller comes? who is the landlord? where the maids? behold, what curious rooms! no ruddy fires on the hearth    no brimming tankards flow    necromancer! landlord! who are these below? 116 i had some things that i called mine    and god, that he called his, till, recently a rival claim disturbed these amities. the property, my garden, which having sown with care, he claims the pretty acre, and sends a bailiff there. the station of the parties forbids publicity, but justice is sublimer than arms, or pedigree. i'll institute an "action"    i'll vindicate the law    jove! choose your counsel    i retain "shaw"! 117 in rags mysterious as these the shining courtiers go    veiling the purple, and the plumes    veiling the ermine so. smiling, as they request an alms    at some imposing door! smiling when we walk barefoot upon their golden floor! 118 my friend attacks my friend! oh battle picturesque! then i turn soldier too, and he turns satirist! how martial is this place! had i a mighty gun i think i'd shoot the human race and then to glory run! 119 talk with prudence to a beggar of "potose," and the mines! reverently, to the hungry of your viands, and your wines! cautious, hint to any captive you have passed enfranchised feet! anecdotes of air in dungeons have sometimes proved deadly sweet! 120 if this is "fading" oh let me immediately "fade"! if this is "dying" bury me, in such a shroud of red! if this is "sleep," on such a night how proud to shut the eye! good evening, gentle fellow men! peacock presumes to die! 121 as watchers hang upon the east, as beggars revel at a feast by savory fancy spread    as brooks in deserts babble sweet on ear too far for the delight, heaven beguiles the tired. as that same watcher, when the east opens the lid of amethyst and lets the morning go    that beggar, when an honored guest, those thirsty lips to flagons pressed, heaven to us, if true. 122 a something in a summer's day as slow her flambeaux burn away which solemnizes me. a something in a summer's noon    a depth    an azure    a perfume    transcending ecstasy. and still within a summer's night a something so transporting bright i clap my hands to see    then veil my too inspecting face lets such a subtle    shimmering grace flutter too far for me    the wizard fingers never rest    the purple brook within the breast still chafes it narrow bed    still rears the east her amber flag    guides still the sun along the crag his caravan of red    so looking on    the night    the morn conclude the wonder gay    and i meet, coming thro' the dews another summer's day! 123 many cross the rhine in this cup of mine. sip old frankfort air from my brown cigar. 124 in lands i never saw    they say immortal alps look down    whose bonnets touch the firmament    whose sandals touch the town    meek at whose everlasting feet a myriad daisy play    which, sir, are you and which am i upon an august day? 125 for each ecstatic instant we must an anguish pay in keen and quivering ration to the ecstasy. for each beloved hour sharp pittances of years    bitter contested farthings    and coffers heaped with tears! 126 to fight aloud, is very brave    but gallanter, i know who charge within the bosom the cavalry of woe    who win, and nations do not see    who fall    and none observe    whose dying eyes, no country regards with patriot love    we trust, in plumed procession for such, the angels go    rank after rank, with even feet    and uniforms of snow. 127 "houses"    so the wise men tell me    "mansions"! mansions must be warm! mansions cannot let the tears in, mansions must exclude the storm! "many mansions," by "his father," i don't know him; snugly built! could the children find the way there    some, would even trudge tonight! 128 bring me the sunset in a cup, reckon the morning's flagons up and say how many dew, tell me how far the morning leaps    tell me what time the weaver sleeps who spun the breadth of blue! write me how many notes there be in the new robin's ecstasy among astonished boughs    how many trips the tortoise makes    how many cups the bee partakes, the debauchee of dews! also, who laid the rainbow's piers, also, who leads the docile spheres by withes of supple blue? whose fingers string the stalactite    who counts the wampum of the night to see that none is due? who built this little alban house and shut the windows down so close my spirit cannot see? who'll let me out some gala day with implements to fly away, passing pomposity? 129 cocoon above! cocoon below! stealthy cocoon, why hide you so what all the world suspect? an hour, and gay on every tree your secret, perched in ecstasy defies imprisonment! an hour in chrysalis to pass, then gay above receding grass a butterfly to go! a moment to interrogate, then wiser than a "surrogate," the universe to know! 130 these are the days when birds come back    a very few    a bird or two    to take a backward look. these are the days when skies resume the old    old sophistries of june    a blue and gold mistake. oh fraud that cannot cheat the bee    almost thy plausibility induces my belief. till ranks of seeds their witness bear    and softly thro' the altered air hurries a timid leaf. oh sacrament of summer days, oh last communion in the haze    permit a child to join. thy sacred emblems to partake    they consecrated bread to take and thine immortal wine! 131 besides the autumn poets sing a few prosaic days a little this side of the snow and that side of the haze    a few incisive mornings    a few ascetic eves    gone    mr. bryant's "golden rod"    and mr. thomson's "sheaves." still, is the bustle in the brook    sealed are the spicy valves    mesmeric fingers softly touch the eyes of many elves    perhaps a squirrel may remain    my sentiments to share    grant me, oh lord, a sunny mind    thy windy will to bear! 132 i bring an unaccustomed wine to lips long parching next to mine, and summon them to drink; crackling with fever, they essay, i turn my brimming eyes away, and come next hour to look. the hands still hug the tardy glass    the lips i would have cooled, alas    are so superfluous cold    i would as soon attempt to warm the bosoms where the frost has lain ages beneath the mould    some other thirsty there may be to whom this would have pointed me had it remained to speak    and so i always bear the cup if, haply, mine may be the drop some pilgrim thirst to slake    if, haply, any say to me "unto the little, unto me," when i at last awake. 133 as children bid the guest "good night" and then reluctant turn    my flowers raise their pretty lips    then put their nightgowns on. as children caper when they wake merry that it is morn    my flowers from a hundred cribs will peep, and prance again. 134 perhaps you'd like to buy a flower, but i could never sell    if you would like to borrow, until the daffodil unties her yellow bonnet beneath the village door, until the bees, from clover rows their hock, and sherry, draw, why, i will lend until just then, but not an hour more! 135 water, is taught by thirst. land    by the oceans passed. transport    by throe    peace    by its battles told    love, by memorial mold    birds, by the snow. 136 have you got a brook in your little heart, where bashful flowers blow, and blushing birds go down to drink, and shadows tremble so    and nobody knows, so still it flows, that any brook is there, and yet your little draught of life is daily drunken there    why, look out for the little brook in march, when the rivers overflow, and the snows come hurrying from the fills, and the bridges often go    and later, in august it may be    when the meadows parching lie, beware, lest this little brook of life, some burning noon go dry! 137 flowers    well    if anybody can the ecstasy define    half a transport    half a trouble    with which flowers humble men: anybody find the fountain from which floods so contra flow    i will give him all the daisies which upon the hillside blow. too much pathos in their faces for a simple breast like mine    butterflies from st. domingo cruising round the purple line    have a system of aesthetics    far superior to mine. 138 pigmy seraphs    gone astray    velvet people from vevay    balles from some lost summer day    bees exclusive coterie    paris could not lay the fold belted down with emerald    venice could not show a check of a tint so lustrous meek    never such an ambuscade as of briar and leaf displayed for my little damask maid    i had rather wear her grace than an earl's distinguished face    i had rather dwell like her than be "duke of exeter"    royalty enough for me to subdue the bumblebee. 139 soul, wilt thou toss again? by just such a hazard hundreds have lost indeed    but tens have won an all    angel's breathless ballot lingers to record thee    imps in eager caucus raffle for my soul! 140 an altered look about the hills    a tyrian light the village fills    a wider sunrise in the morn    a deeper twilight on the lawn    a print of a vermillion foot    a purple finger on the slope    a flippant fly upon the pane    a spider at his trade again    an added strut in chanticleer    a flower expected everywhere    an axe shrill singing in the woods    fern odors on untravelled roads    all this and more i cannot tell    a furtive look you know as well    and nicodemus' mystery receives its annual reply! 141 some, too fragile for winter winds the thoughtful grave encloses    tenderly tucking them in from frost before their feet are cold. never the treasures in her nest the cautious grave exposes, building where schoolboy dare not look, and sportsman is not bold. this covert have all the children early aged, and often cold, sparrow, unnoticed by the father    lambs for whom time had not a fold. 142 whose are the little beds, i asked which in the valleys lie? some shook their heads, and others smiled    and no one made reply. perhaps they did not hear, i said, i will inquire again    whose are the beds    the tiny beds so thick upon the plain? 'tis daisy, in the shortest    a little further on    nearest the door    to wake the ist    little leontoden. 'tis iris, sir, and aster    anemone, and bell    bartsia, in the blanket red    and chubby daffodil. meanwhile, at many cradles her busy foot she plied    humming the quaintest lullaby that ever rocked a child. hush! epigea wakens! the crocus stirs her lids    rhodora's cheek is crimson, she's dreaming of the woods! then turning from them reverent    their bedtime 'tis, she said    the bumble bees will wake them when april woods are red. 143 for every bird a nest    wherefore in timid quest some little wren goes seeking round    wherefore when boughs are free    households in every tree    pilgrim be found? perhaps a home too high    ah aristocracy! the little wren desires    perhaps of twig so fine    of twine e'en superfine, her pride aspires    the lark is not ashamed to build upon the ground her modest house    yet who of all the throng dancing around the sun does so rejoice? 144 she bore it till the simple veins traced azure on her hand    til pleading, round her quiet eyes the purple crayons stand. till daffodils had come and gone i cannot tell the sum, and then she ceased to bear it    and with the saints sat down. no more her patient figure at twilight soft to meet    no more her timid bonnet upon the village street    but crowns instead, and courtiers    and in the midst so fair, whose but her shy    immortal face of whom we're whispering here? 145 this heart that broke so long    these feet that never flagged    this faith that watched for star in vain, give gently to the dead    hound cannot overtake the hare that fluttered panting, here    nor any schoolboy rob the nest tenderness builded there. 146 on such a night, or such a night, would anybody care if such a little figure slipped quiet from its chair    so quiet    oh how quiet, that nobody might know but that the little figure rocked softer    to and fro    on such a dawn, or such a dawn    would anybody sigh that such a little figure too sound asleep did lie for chanticleer to wake it    or stirring house below    or giddy bird in orchard    or early task to do? there was a little figure plump for every little knoll    busy needles, and spools of thread    and trudging feet from school    playmates, and holidays, and nuts    and visions vast and small    strange that the feet so precious charged should reach so small a goal! 147 bless god, he went as soldiers, his musket on his breast    grant god, he charge the bravest of all the martial blest! please god, might i behold him in epauletted white    i should not fear the foe then    i should not fear the fight! 148 all overgrown by cunning moss, all interspersed with weed, the little cage of "currer bell" in quiet "haworth" laid. gathered from many wanderings    gethsemane can tell thro' what transporting anguish she reached the asphodel! soft falls the sounds of eden upon her puzzled ear    oh what an afternoon for heaven, when "bronte" entered there! 149 she went as quiet as the dew from an accustomed flower. not like the dew, did she return at the accustomed hour! she dropt as softly as a star from out my summer's eve    less skillful than le verriere it's sorer to believe! 150 she died    this was the way she died. and when her breath was done took up her simple wardrobe and started for the sun. her little figure at the gate the angels must have spied, since i could never find her upon the mortal side. 151 mute thy coronation    meek my vive le roi, fold a tiny courtier in thine ermine, sir, there to rest revering till the pageant by, i can murmur broken, master, it was i    152 the sun kept stooping    stooping    low! the hills to meet him rose! on his side, what transaction! on their side, what repose! deeper and deeper grew the stain upon the window pane    thicker and thicker stood the feet until the tyrian was crowded dense with armies    so gay, so brigadier    that i felt martial stirrings who once the cockade wore    charged from my chimney corner    but nobody was there! 153 dust is the only secret    death, the only one you cannot find out all about in his "native town." nobody know "his father"    never was a boy    hadn't any playmates, or "early history"    industrious! laconic! punctual! sedate! bold as a brigand! stiller than a fleet! builds, like a bird, too! christ robs the nest    robin after robin smuggled to rest! 154 except to heaven, she is nought. except for angels    lone. except to some wide wandering bee a flower superfluous blown. except for winds    provincial. except by butterflies unnoticed as a single dew that on the acre lies. the smallest housewife in the grass, yet take her from the lawn and somebody has lost the face that made existence    home! 155 the murmur of a bee a witchcraft    yieldeth me    if any ask me why    'twere easier to die    than tell    the red upon the hill taketh away my will    if anybody sneer    take care    for god is here    that's all. the breaking of the day addeth to my degree    if any ask me how    artist    who drew me so    must tell! 156 you love me    you are sure    i shall not fear mistake    i shall not cheated wake    some grinning morn    to find the sunrise left    and orchards    unbereft    and dollie    gone! i need not start    you're sure    that night will never be    when frightened    home to thee i run    to find the windows dark    and no more dollie    mark    quite none? be sure you're sure    you know    i'll bear it better now    if you'll just tell me so    than when    a little dull balm grown    over this pain of mine    you sting    again! 157 musicians wrestle everywhere    all day    among the crowded air i hear the silver strife    and    walking    long before the morn    such transport breaks upon the town i think it that "new life"! if is not bird    it has no nest    nor "band"    in brass and scarlet    drest    nor tamborin    nor man    it is not hymn from pulpit read    the "morning stars" the treble led on time's first afternoon! some    say    it is "the spheres"    at play! some say that bright majority of vanished dames    and men! some    think it service in the place where we    with late    celestial face    please god    shall ascertain! 158 dying! dying in the night! won't somebody bring the light so i can see which way to go into the everlasting snow? and "jesus"! where is jesus gone? they said that jesus    always came    perhaps he doesn't know the house    this way, jesus, let him pass! somebody run to the great gate and see if dollie's coming! wait! i hear her feet upon the stair! death won't hurt    now dollie's here! 159 a little bread    a crust    a crumb    a little trust    a demijohn    can keep the soul alive    not portly, mind! but breathing    warm    conscious    as old napoleon, the night before the crown! a modest lot    a fame petite    a brief campaign of sting and sweet is plenty! is enough! a sailor's business is the shore! a soldier's    balls! who asketh more, must seek the neighboring life! 160 just lost, when i was saved! just felt the world go by! just girt me for the onset with eternity, when breath blew back, and on the other side i heard recede the disappointed tide! therefore, as one returned, i feel odd secrets of the line to tell! some sailor, skirting foreign shores    some pale reporter, from the awful doors before the seal! next time, to stay! next time, the things to see by ear unheard, unscrutinized by eye    next time, to tarry, while the ages steal    slow tramp the centuries, and the cycles wheel! 161 a feather from the whippoorwill that everlasting    sings! whose galleries    are sunrise    whose opera    the springs    whose emerald nest the ages spin of mellow    murmuring thread    whose beryl egg, what schoolboys hunt in "recess"    overhead! 162 my river runs to thee    blue sea! wilt welcome me? my river wait reply    oh sea    look graciously    i'll fetch thee brooks from spotted nooks    say    sea    take me! 163 tho' my destiny be fustian    hers be damask fine    tho' she wear a silver apron    i, a less divine    still, my little gypsy being i would far prefer, still, my little sunburnt bosom to her rosier, for, when frosts, their punctual fingers on her forehead lay, you and i, and dr. holland, bloom eternally! roses of a steadfast summer in a steadfast land, where no autumn lifts her pencil    and no reapers stand! 164 mama never forgets her birds, though in another tree    she looks down just as often and just as tenderly as when her little mortal nest with cunning care she wove    if either of her "sparrows fall," she "notices," above. 165 a wounded deer    leaps highest    i've heard the hunter tell    'tis but the ecstasy of death    and then the brake is still! the smitten rock that gushes! the trampled steel that springs! a cheek is always redder just where the hectic stings! mirth is the mail of anguish in which it cautious arm, lest anybody spy the blood and "you're hurt" exclaim! 166 i met a king this afternoon! he had not on a crown indeed, a little palmleaf hat was all, and he was barefoot, i'm afraid! but sure i am he ermine wore beneath his faded jacket's blue    and sure i am, the crest he bore within that jacket's pocket too! for 'twas too stately for an earl    a marquis would not go so grand! 'twas possibly a czar petite    a pope, or something of that kind! if i must tell you, of a horse my freckled monarch held the rein    doubtless an estimable beast, but not at all disposed to run! and such a wagon! while i live dare i presume to see another such a vehicle as then transported me! two other ragged princes his royal state partook! doubtless the first excursion these sovereigns ever took! i question if the royal coach round which the footmen wait has the significance, on high, of this barefoot estate! 167 to learn the transport by the pain as blind men learn the sun! to die of thirst    suspecting that brooks in meadows run! to stay the homesick    homesick feet upon a foreign shore    haunted by native lands, the while    and blue    beloved air! this is the sovereign anguish! this    the signal woe! these are the patient "laureates" whose voices    trained    below    ascend in ceaseless carol    inaudible, indeed, to us    the duller scholars of the mysterious bard! 168 if the foolish, call them "flowers"    need the wiser, tell? if the savants "classify" them it is just as well! those who read the "revelations" must not criticize those who read the same edition    with beclouded eyes! could we stand with that old "moses"    "canaan" denied    scan like him, the stately landscape on the other side    doubtless, we should deem superfluous many sciences, not pursued by learned angels in scholastic skies! low amid that glad belles lettres grant that we may stand, stars, amid profound galaxies    at that grand "right hand"! 169 in ebon box, when years have flown to reverently peer, wiping away the velvet dust summers have sprinkled there! to hold a letter to the light    grown tawny now, with time    to con the faded syllables that quickened us like wine! perhaps a flower's shrivelled check among its stores to find    plucked far away, some morning    by gallant    mouldering hand! a curl, perhaps, from foreheads our constancy forgot    perhaps, an antique trinket    in vanished fashions set! and then to lay them quiet back    and go about its care    as if the little ebon box were none of our affair! 170 portraits are to daily faces as an evening west, to a fine, pedantic sunshine    in a satin vest! 171 wait till the majesty of death invests so mean a brow! almost a powdered footman might dare to touch it now! wait till in everlasting robes that democrat is dressed, then prate about "preferment"    and "station," and the rest! around this quiet courtier obsequious angels wait! full royal is his retinue! full purple is his state! a lord, might dare to lift the hat to such a modest clay since that my lord, "the lord of lords" receives unblushingly! 172 'tis so much joy! 'tis so much joy! if i should fail, what poverty! and yet, as poor as i, have ventured all upon a throw! have gained! yes! hesitated so    this side the victory! life is but life! and death, but death! bliss is, but bliss, and breath but breath! and if indeed i fail, at least, to know the worst, is sweet! defeat means nothing but defeat, no drearier, can befall! and if i gain! oh gun at sea! oh bells, that in the steeples be! at first, repeat it slow! for heaven is a different thing, conjectured, and waked sudden in    and might extinguish me! 173 a fuzzy fellow, without feet, yet doth exceeding run! of velvet, is his countenance, and his complexion, dun! sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! sometime, upon a bough, from which he doth descend in plush upon the passer by! all this in summer. but when winds alarm the forest folk, he taketh damask residence    and struts in sewing silk! then, finer than a lady, emerges in the spring! a feather on each shoulder! you'd scarce recognize him! by men, yclept caterpillar! by me! but who am i, to tell the pretty secret of the butterfly! 174 at last, to be identified! at last, the lamps upon thy side the rest of life to see! past midnight! past the morning star! past sunrise! ah, what leagues there were between our feet, and day! 175 i have never seen "volcanoes"    but, when travellers tell how those old    phlegmatic mountains usually so still    bear within    appalling ordnance, fire, and smoke, and gun, taking villages for breakfast, and appalling men    if the stillness is volcanic in the human face when upon a pain titanic features keep their place    if at length the smouldering anguish will not overcome    and the palpitating vineyard in the dust, be thrown? if some loving antiquary, on resumption morn, will not cry with joy "pompeii"! to the hills return! 176 i'm the little "heart's ease"! i don't care for pouting skies! if the butterfly delay can i, therefore, stay away? if the coward bumble bee in his chimney corner stay, i, must resoluter be! who'll apologize for me? dear, old fashioned, little flower! eden is old fashioned, too! birds are antiquated fellows! heaven does not change her blue. nor will i, the little heart's ease    ever be induced to do! 177 ah, necromancy sweet! ah, wizard erudite! teach me the skill, that i instil the pain surgeons assuage in vain, nor herb of all the plain can heal! 178 i cautious, scanned my little life    i winnowed what would fade from what would last till heads like mine should be a dreaming laid. i put the latter in a barn    the former, blew away. i went one winter morning and lo   my priceless hay was not upon the "scaffold"    was not upon the "beam"    and from a thriving farmer    a cynic, i became. whether a thief did it    whether it was the wind    whether deity's guiltless    my business is, to find! so i begin to ransack! how is it hearts, with thee? art thou within the little barn love provided thee? 179 if i could bribe them by a rose i'd bring them every flower that grows from amherst to cashmere! i would not stop for night, or storm    or frost, or death, or anyone    my business were so dear! if they would linger for a bird my tambourin were soonest heard among the april woods! unwearied, all the summer long, only to break in wilder song when winter shook the boughs! what if they hear me! who shall say that such an importunity may not at last avail? that, weary of this beggar's face    they may not finally say, yes    to drive her from the hall? 180 as if some little arctic flower upon the polar hem    went wandering down the latitudes until it puzzled came to continents of summer    to firmaments of sun    to strange, bright crowds of flowers    and birds, of foreign tongue! i say, as if this little flower to eden, wandered in    what then? why nothing, only, your inference therefrom! 181 i lost a world   the other day! has anybody found? you'll know it by the row of stars around its forehead bound. a rich man    might not notice it    yet    to my frugal eye, of more esteem than ducats    oh find it    sir    for me! 182 if i shouldn't be alive when the robins come, give the one in red cravat, a memorial crumb. if i couldn't thank you, being fast asleep, you will know i'm trying why my granite lip! 183 i've heard an organ talk, sometimes in a cathedral aisle, and understood no word it said    yet held my breath, the while    and risen up    and gone away, a more berdardine girl    yet    know not what was done to me in that old chapel aisle. 184 a transport one cannot contain may yet a transport be    though god forbid it lift the lid    unto its ecstasy! a diagram    of rapture! a sixpence at a show    with holy ghosts in cages! the universe would go! 185 "faith" is a fine invention when gentlemen can see    but microscopes are prudent in an emergency. 186 what shall i do    it whimpers so    this little hound within the heart all day and night with bark and start    and yet, it will not go    would you untie it, were you me    would it stop whining    if to thee    i sent it    even now? it should not tease you    by your chair    or, on the mat    or if it dare    to climb your dizzy knee    or    sometimes at your side to run    when you were willing    shall it come? tell carlo    he'll tell me! 187 how many times these low feet staggered    only the soldered mouth can tell    try    can you stir the awful rivet    try    can you lift the hasps of steel! stroke the cool forehead    hot so often    lift    if you care    the listless hair    handle the adamantine fingers never a thimble    more    shall wear    buzz the dull flies    on the chamber window    brave    shines the sun through the freckled pane    fearless    the cobweb swings from the ceiling    indolent housewife    in daisies    lain! 188 make me a picture of the sun    so i can hang it in my room    and make believe i'm getting warm when others call it "day"! draw me a robin    on a stem    so i am hearing him, i'll dream, and when the orchards stop their tune    put my pretense    away    say if it's really    warm at noon    whether it's buttercups    that "skim"    or butterflies    that "bloom"? then    skip    the frost    upon the lea    and skip the russet    on the tree    let's play those    never come! 189 it's such a little thing to weep    so short a thing to sigh    and yet    by trades    the size of these we men and women die! 190 he was weak, and i was strong    then    so he let me lead him in    i was weak, and he was strong then    so i let him lead me    home. 'twasn't far    the door was near    'twasn't dark    for he went    too    'twasn't loud, for he said nought    that was all i cared to know. day knocked    and we must part    neither    was strongest    now    he strove    and i strove    too    we didn't do it    tho'! 191 the skies can't keep their secret! they tell it to the hills    the hills just tell the orchards    and they    the daffodils! a bird    by chance    that goes that way    soft overhears the whole    if i should bribe the little bird    who knows but she would tell? i think i won't    however    it's finer    not to know    if summer were an axiom    what sorcery had snow? so keep your secret    father! i would not    if i could, know what the sapphire fellows, do, in your new fashioned world! 192 poor little heart! did they forget thee? then dinna care! then dinna care! proud little heart! did they forsake thee? be debonnaire! be debonnaire! frail little heart! i would not break thee    could'st credit me? could'st credit me? gay little heart    like morning glory! wind and sun    wilt thee array! 193 i shall know why    when time is over    and i have ceased to wonder why    christ will explain each separate anguish in the fair schoolroom of the sky    he will tell me what "peter" promised    and i    for wonder at his woe    i shall forget the drop of anguish that scalds me now    that scalds me now! 194 on this long storm the rainbow rose    on this late morn    the sun    the clouds    like listless elephants    horizons    straggled down    the birds rose smiling, in their nests    the gales    indeed    were done    alas, how heedless were the eyes    on whom the summer shone! the quiet nonchalance of death    no daybreak    can bestir    the slow    archangel's syllables must awaken her! 195 for this    accepted breath    through it    compete with death    the fellow cannot touch this crown    by it    my title take    ah, what a royal sake to my necessity    stooped down! no wilderness    can be where this attendeth me    no desert noon    no fear of frost to come haunt the perennial bloom    but certain june! get gabriel    to tell    the royal syllable    get saints    with new    unsteady tongue    to say what trance below most like their glory show    fittest the crown! 196 we don't cry    tim and i, we are far too grand    but we bolt the door tight to prevent a friend    then we hide our brave face deep in our hand    not to cry    tim and i    we are far too grand    nor to dream    he and me    do we condescend    we just shut our brown eye to see to the end    tim    see cottages    but, oh, so high! then    we shake    tim and i    and lest i    cry    tim    reads a little hymn    and we both pray    please, sir, i and tim    always lost the way! we must die    by and by    clergymen say    tim    shall    if i    do    i    too    if he    how shall we arrange it    tim    was    so    shy? take us simultaneous    lord    i    "tim"    and me! 197 morning    is the place for dew    corn    is made at noon    after dinner light    for flowers    dukes    for setting sun! 198 an awful tempest mashed the air    the clouds were gaunt, and few    a black    as of a spectre's cloak hid heaven and earth from view. the creatures chuckled on the roofs    and whistled in the air    and shook their fists    and gnashed their teeth    and swung their frenzied hair. the morning lit    the birds arose    the monster's faded eyes turned slowly to his native coast    and peace    was paradise! 199 i'm "wife"    i've finished that    that other state    i'm czar    i'm "woman" now    it's safer so    how odd the girl's life looks behind this soft eclipse    i think that earth feels so to folks in heaven    now    this being comfort    then that other kind    was pain    but why compare? i'm "wife"! stop there! 200 i stole them from a bee    because    thee    sweet plea    he pardoned me! 201 two swimmers wrestled on the spar    until the morning sun    when one    turned smiling to the land    oh god! the other one! the stray ships    passing    spied a face    upon the waters borne    with eyes in death    still begging raised    and hands    beseeching    thrown! 202 my eye is fuller than my vase    her cargo    is of dew    and still    my heart    my eye outweighs    east india    for you! 203 he forgot    and i    remembered    'twas an everyday affair    long ago as christ and peter    "warmed them" at the "temple fire." "thou wert with him"    quoth "the damsel"? "no"    said peter, 'twasn't me    jesus merely "looked" at peter    could i do aught else    to thee? 204 a slash of blue    a sweep of gray    some scarlet patches on the way, compose an evening sky    a little purple    slipped between    some ruby trousers hurried on    a wave of gold    a bank of day    this just makes out the morning sky. 205 i should not dare to leave my friend, because    because if he should die while i was gone    and i    too late    should reach the heart that wanted me    if i should disappoint the eyes that hunted    hunted so    to see    and could not bear to shut until they "noticed" me    they noticed me    if i should stab the patient faith so sure i'd come    so sure i'd come    it listening    listening    went to sleep    telling my tardy name    my heart would wish it broke before    since breaking then    since breaking then    were useless as next morning's sun    where midnight frosts    had lain! 206 the flower must not blame the bee    that seeketh his felicity too often at her door    but teach the footman from vevay    mistress is "not at home"    to say    to people    any more! 207 tho' i get home how late    how late    so i get home   'twill compensate    better will be the ecstasy that they have done expecting me    when night    descending    dumb    and dark    they hear my unexpected knock    transporting must the moment be    brewed from decades of agony! to think just how the fire will burn    just how long cheated eyes will turn    to wonder what myself will say, and what itself, will say to me    beguiles the centuries of way! 208 the rose did caper on her cheek    her bodice rose and fell    her pretty speech    like drunken men    did stagger pitiful    her fingers fumbled at her work    her needle would not go    what ailed so smart a little maid    it puzzled me to know    till opposite    i spied a cheek that bore another rose    just opposite    another speech that like the drunkard goes    a vest that like her bodice, danced    to the immortal tune    till those two troubled    little clocks ticked softly into one. 209 with thee, in the desert    with thee in the thirst    with thee in the tamarind wood    leopard breathes    at last! 210 the thought beneath so slight a film    is more distinctly seen    as laces just reveal the surge    or mists    the apennine 211 come slowly    eden! lips unused to thee    bashful    sip thy jessamines    as the fainting bee    reaching late his flower, round her chamber hums    counts his nectars    enters    and is lost in balms. 212 least rivers    docile to some sea. my caspian    thee. 213 did the harebell loose her girdle to the lover bee would the bee the harebell hallow much as formerly? did the "paradise"    persuaded    yield her moat of pearl    would the eden be an eden, or the earl    an earl? 214 i taste a liquor never brewed    from tankards scooped in pearl    not all the vats upon the rhine yield such an alcohol! inebriate of air    am i    and debauchee of dew    reeling    thro endless summer days    from inns of molten blue    when "landlords" turn the drunken bee out of the foxglove's door    when butterflies    renounce their "drams"    i shall but drink the more! till seraphs swing their snowy hats    and saints    to windows run    to see the little tippler leaning against the    sun    215 what is    "paradise"    who live there    are they "farmers"    do they "hoe"    do they know that this is "amherst"    and that i    am coming    too    do they wear "new shoes"    in "eden"    is it always pleasant    there    won't they scold us    when we're homesick    or tell god    how cross we are    you are sure there's such a person as "a father"    in the sky    so if i get lost    there    ever    or do what the nurse calls "die"    i shan't walk the "jasper"    barefoot    ransomed folks    won't laugh at me    maybe    "eden" a'n't so lonesome as new england used to be! 216 safe in their alabaster chambers    untouched my morning and untouched by noon    sleep the meek members of the resurrection    rafter of satin, and roof of stone. light laughs the breeze in her castle above them    babbles the bee in a stolid ear, pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence    ah, what sagacity perished here! 217 savior! i've no one else to tell    and so i trouble thee. i am the one forgot thee so    dost thou remember me? nor, for myself, i came so far    that were the little load    i brought thee the imperial heart i had not strength to hold    the heart i carried in my own    till mine too heavy grew    yet    strangest    heavier since it went    is it too large for you? 218 is it true, dear sue? are there two? i shouldn't like to come for fear of joggling him! if i could shut him up in a coffee cup, or tie him to a pin till i got in    or make him fast to "toby's" fist    hist! whist! i'd come! 219 she sweeps with many colored brooms    and leaves the shreds behind    oh housewife in the evening west    come back, and dust the pond! you dropped a purple ravelling in    you dropped an amber thread    and how you've littered all the east with duds of emerald! and still, she plies her spotted brooms, and still the aprons fly, till brooms fade softly into stars    and then i come away    220 could i    then    shut the door    lest my beseeching face    at last    rejected    be    of her? 221 it can't be "summer"! that    got through! it's early    yet    for "spring"! there's that long town of white    to cross    before the blackbirds sing! it can't be "dying"! it's too rouge    the dead shall go in white    so sunset shuts my question down with cuffs of chrysolite! 222 when katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side, when katie runs unwearied they follow on the road, when katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee    ah! katie! smile at fortune, with two so knit to thee! 223 i came to buy a smile    today    but just a single smile    the smallest one upon your face will suit me just as well    the one that no one else would miss it shone so very small    i'm pleading at the "counter"    sir    could you afford to sell    i've diamonds    on my fingers    you know what diamonds are? i've rubies    live the evening blood    and topaz    like the star! 'twould be "a bargain" for a jew! say    may i have it    sir? 224 i've nothing else    to bring, you know    so i keep bringing these    just as the night keeps fetching stars to our familiar eyes    maybe, we shouldn't mind them    unless they didn't come    then    maybe, it would puzzle us to find our way home    225 jesus! thy crucifix enable thee to guess the smaller size! jesus! thy second face mind thee in paradise of ours! 226 should you but fail at    sea    in sight of me    or doomed lie    next sun    to die    or rap    at paradise    unheard i'd harass god until he let you in! 227 teach him    when he makes the names    such an one    to say    on his babbling    berry    lips    as should sound    to me    were my ear    as near his nest    as my thought    today    as should sound    "forbid us not"    some like "emily." 228 blazing in gold and quenching in purple leaping like leopards to the sky then at the feet of the old horizon laying her spotted face to die stooping as low as the otter's window touching the roof and tinting the barn kissing her bonnet to the meadow and the juggler of day is gone 229 a burdock    clawed my gown    not burdock's    blame    but mine    who went too near the burdock's den    a bog    affronts my shoe    what else have bogs    to do    the only trade they know    the splashing men! ah, pity    then! 'tis minnows can despise! the elephant's    calm eyes look further on! 230 we    bee and i    live by the quaffing    'tisn't all hock    with us    life has its ale    but it's many a lay of the dim burgundy    we chant    for cheer    when the wines    fail    do we "get drunk"? ask the jolly clovers! do we "beat" our "wife"? i    never wed    bee    pledges his    in minute flagons    dainty    as the trees    on our deft head    while runs the rhine    he and i    revel    first    at the vat    and latest at the vine    noon    our last cup    "found dead"    "of nectar"    by a humming coroner    in a by thyme! 231 god permits industrious angels    afternoons    to play    i met one    forgot my schoolmates    all    for him    straightway    god calls home    the angels    promptly    at the setting sun    i missed mine    how dreary    marbles    after playing crown! 232 the sun    just touched the morning    the morning    happy thing    supposed that he had come to dwell    and life would all be spring! she felt herself supremer    a raised    ethereal thing! henceforth    for her    what holiday! meanwhile    her wheeling king    trailed    slow    along the orchards    his haughty    spangled hems    leaving a new necessity! the want of diadems! the morning    fluttered    staggered    felt feebly    for her crown    her unanointed forehead    henceforth    her only one! 233 the lamp burns sure    within    tho' serfs    supply the oil    it matters not the busy wick    at her phosphoric toil! the slave    forgets    to fill    the lamp    burns golden    on    unconscious that the oil is out    as that the slave    is gone. 234 you're right    "the way is narrow"    and "difficult the gate"    and "few there be"    correct again    that "enter in    thereat"    'tis costly    so are purples! 'tis just the price of breath    with but the "discount" of the grave    termed by the brokers    "death"! and after that    there's heaven    the good man's    "dividend"    and bad men    "go to jail"    i guess    235 the court is far away    no umpire    have i    my sovereign is offended    to gain his grace    i'd die! i'll seek his royal feet    i'll say    remember    king    thou shalt    thyself    one day    a child    implore a larger    thing    that empire    is of czars    as small    they say    as i    grant me    that day    the royalty    to intercede    for thee    236 if he dissolve    then    there is nothing    more    eclipse    at midnight    it was dark    before    sunset    at easter    blindness    on the dawn    faint star of bethlehem    gone down! would but some god    inform him    or it be too late! say    that the pulse just lisps    the chariots wait    say    that a little life    for his    is leaking    red    his little spaniel    tell him! will he heed? 237 i think just how my shape will rise    when i shall be "forgiven"    till hair    and eyes    and timid head    are out of sight    in heaven    i think just how my lips will weigh    with shapeless    quivering    prayer    that you    so late    "consider" me    the "sparrow" of your care    i mind me that of anguish    sent    some drifts were moved away    before my simple bosom    broke    and why not this    if they? and so i con that thing    "forgiven"    until    delirious    borne    by my long bright    and longer    trust    i drop my heart    unshriven! 238 kill your balm    and its odors bless you    bare your jessamine    to the storm    and she will fling her maddest perfume    haply    your summer night to charm    stab the bird    that built in your bosom    oh, could you catch her last refrain    bubble! "forgive"    "some better"    bubble! "carol for him    when i am gone"! 239 "heaven"    is what i cannot reach! the apple on the tree    provided it do hopeless    hang    that    "heaven" is    to me! the color, on the cruising cloud    the interdicted land    behind the hill    the house behind    there    paradise    is found! her teasing purples    afternoons    the credulous    decoy    enamored    of the conjuror    that spurned us    yesterday! 240 ah, moon    and star! you are very far    but were no one farther than you    do you think i'd stop for a firmament    or a cubit    or so? i could borrow a bonnet of the lark    and a chamois' silver boot    and a stirrup of an antelope    and be with you    tonight! but, moon, and star, though you're very far    there is one    farther than you    he    is more than a firmament    from me    so i can never go! 241 i like a look of agony, because i know it's true    men do not sham convulsion, nor simulate, a throe    the eyes glaze once    and that is death    impossible to feign the beads upon the forehead by homely anguish strung. 242 when we stand on the tops of things    and like the trees, look down    the smoke all cleared away from it    and mirrors on the scene    just laying light    no soul will wink except it have the flaw    the sound ones, like the hills    shall stand    no lighting, scares away    the perfect, nowhere be afraid    they bear their dauntless heads, where others, dare not go at noon, protected by their deeds    the stars dare shine occasionally upon a spotted world    and suns, go surer, for their proof, as if an axle, held    243 i've known a heaven, like a tent    to wrap its shining yards    pluck up its stakes, and disappear    without the sound of boards or rip of nail    or carpenter    but just the miles of stare    that signalize a show's retreat    in north america    no trace    no figment of the thing that dazzled, yesterday, no ring    no marvel    men, and feats    dissolved as utterly    as bird's far navigation discloses just a hue    a plash of oars, a gaiety    then swallowed up, of view. 244 it is easy to work when the soul is at play    but when the soul is in pain    the hearing him put his playthings up makes work difficult    then    it is simple, to ache in the bone, or the rind    but gimlets    among the nerve    mangle daintier    terribler    like a panter in the glove    245 i held a jewel in my fingers    and went to sleep    the day was warm, and winds were prosy    i said "'twill keep"    i woke    and chid my honest fingers, the gem was gone    and now, an amethyst remembrance is all i own    246 forever at his side to walk    the smaller of the two! brain of his brain    blood of his blood    two lives    one being    now    forever of his fate to taste    if grief    the largest part    if joy    to put my piece away for that beloved heart    all life    to know each other    whom we can never learn    and bye and bye    a change    called heaven    rapt neighborhoods of men    just finding out    what puzzled us    without the lexicon! 247 what would i give to see his face? i'd give    i'd give my life    of course    but that is not enough! stop just a minute    let me think! i'd give my biggest bobolink! that makes two    him    and life! you know who "june" is    i'd give her    roses a day from zanzibar    and lily tubes    like wells    bees    by the furlong    straits of blue navies of butterflies    sailed thro'    and dappled cowslip dells    then i have "shares" in primrose "banks"    daffodil dowries    spicy "stocks"    dominions    broad as dew    bags of doublons    adventurous bees brought me    from firmamental seas    and purple    from peru    now    have i bought it    "shylock"? say! sign me the bond! "i vow to pay to her    who pledges this    one hour    of her sovereign's face"! ecstatic contract! niggard grace! my kingdom's worth of bliss! 248 why    do they shut me out of heaven? did i sing    too loud? but    i can say a little "minor" timid as a bird! wouldn't the angels try me    just    once    more    just    see    if i troubled them    but don't    shut the door! oh, if i    were the gentleman in the "white robe"    and they    were the little hand    that knocked    could    i    forbid? 249 wild nights    wild nights! were i with thee wild nights should be our luxury! futile    the winds    to a heart in port    done with the compass    done with the chart! rowing in eden    ah, the sea! might i but moor    tonight    in thee! 250 i shall keep singing! birds will pass me on their way to yellower climes    each    with a robin's expectation    i    with my redbreast    and my rhymes    late    when i take my place in summer    but    i shall bring a fuller tune    vespers    are sweeter than matins    signor    morning    only the seed of noon    251 over the fence    strawberries    grow    over the fence    i could climb    if i tried, i know    berries are nice! but    if i stained my apron    god would certainly scold! oh, dear,    i guess if he were a boy    he'd    climb    if he could! 252 i can wade grief    whole pools of it    i'm used to that    but the least push of joy breaks up my feet    and i tip    drunken    let no pebble    smile    'twas the new liquor    that was all! power is only pain    stranded, thro' discipline, till weights    will hang    give balm    to giants    and they'll wilt, like men    give himmaleh    they'll carry    him! 253 you see i cannot see    your lifetime    i must guess    how many times it ache for me    today    confess    how many times for my far sake the brave eyes film    but i guess guessing hurts    mine    got so dim! too vague    the face    my own    so patient    covers    too far    the strength    my timidness enfolds    haunting the heart    like her translated faces    teasing the want    it    only    can suffice! 254 "hope" is the thing with feathers    that perches in the soul    and sings the tune without the words    and never stops    at all    and sweetest    in the gale    is heard    and sore must be the storm    that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm    i've heard it in the chillest land    and on the strangest sea    yet, never, in extremity, it asked a crumb    of me. 255 to die    takes just a little while    they say it doesn't hurt    it's only fainter    by degrees    and then    it's out of sight    a darker ribbon    for a day    a crape upon the hat    and then the pretty sunshine comes    and helps us to forget    the absent    mystic    creature    that but for love of us    had gone to sleep    that soundest time    without the weariness    256 if i'm lost    now that i was found    shall still my transport be    that once    on me    those jasper gates blazed open    suddenly    that in my awkward    gazing    face    the angels    softly peered    and touched me with their fleeces, almost as if they cared    i'm banished    now    you know it    how foreign that can be    you'll know    sir    when the savior's face turns so    away from you    257 delight is as the flight    or in the ratio of it, as the schools would say    the rainbow's way    a skein flung colored, after rain, would suit as bright, except that flight were aliment    "if it would last" i asked the east, when that bent stripe struck up my childish firmament    and i, for glee, took rainbows, as the common way, and empty skies the eccentricity    and so with lives    and so with butterflies    seen magic    through the fright that they will cheat the sight    and dower latitudes far on    some sudden morn    our portion    in the fashion    done    258 there's a certain slant of light, winter afternoons    that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes    heavenly hurt, it gives us    we can find no scar, but internal difference, where the meanings, are    none may teach it    any    'tis the seal despair    an imperial affliction sent us of the air    when it comes, the landscape listens    shadows    hold their breath    when it goes, 'tis like the distance on the look of death    259 good night! which put the candle out? a jealous zephyr    not a doubt    ah, friend, you little knew how long at that celestial wick the angels    labored diligent    extinguished    now    for you! it might    have been the light house spark    some sailor    rowing in the dark    had importuned to see! it might    have been the waning lamp that lit the drummer from the camp to purer reveille! 260 read    sweet    how others    strove    till we    are stouter    what they    renounced    till we    are less afraid    how many times they    bore the faithful witness    till we    are helped    as if a kingdom    cared! read then    of faith    that shone above the fagot    clear strains of hymn the river could not drown    brave names of men    and celestial women    passed out    of record into    renown! 261 put up my lute! what of    my music! since the sole ear i cared to charm    passive    as granite    laps my music    sobbing    will suit    as well as psalm! would but the "memnon" of the desert    teach me the strain that vanquished him    when he    surrendered to the sunrise    maybe    that    would awaken    them! 262 the lonesome for they know not what    the eastern exiles    be    who strayed beyond the amber line some madder holiday    and ever since    the purple moat they strive to climb    in vain    as birds    that tumble from the clouds do fumble at the strain    the blessed ether    taught them    some transatlantic morn    when heaven    was too common    to miss    too sure    to dote upon! 263 a single screw of flesh is all that pins the soul that stands for deity, to mine, upon my side the veil    once witnessed of the gauze    its name is put away as far from mine, as if no plight had printed yesterday, in tender    solemn alphabet, my eyes just turned to see, when it was smuggled by my sight into eternity    more hands    to hold    these are but two    one more new mailed nerve just granted, for the peril's sake    some striding    giant    love    so greater than the gods can show, they slink before the clay, that not for all their heaven can boast will let its keepsake    go 264 a weight with needles on the pounds    to push, and pierce, besides    that if the flesh resist the heft    the puncture    coolly tries    that not a pore be overlooked of all this compound frame    as manifold for anguish    as species    be    for name    265 where ships of purple    gently toss    on seas of daffodil    fantastic sailors    mingle    and then    the wharf is still! 266 this    is the land    the sunset washes    these    are the banks of the yellow sea    where it rose    or whither it rushes    these    are the western mystery! night after night her purple traffic strews the landing with opal bales    merchantmen    poise upon horizons    dip    and vanish like orioles! 267 did we disobey him? just one time! charged us to forget him    but we couldn't learn! were himself    such a dunce    what would we    do? love the dull lad    best    oh, wouldn't you? 268 me, change! me, alter! then i will, when on the everlasting hill a smaller purple grows    at sunset, or a lesser glow flickers upon cordillera    at day's superior close! 269 bound    a trouble    and lives can bear it! limit    how deep a bleeding go! so    many    drops    of vital scarlet    deal with the soul as with algebra! tell it the ages    to a cypher    and it will ache    contented    on    sing    at its pain    as any workman    notching the fall of the even sun! 270 one life of so much consequence! yet i    for it    would pay    my soul's entire income    in ceaseless    salary    one pearl    to me    so signal    that i would instant dive    although    i knew    to take it    would cost me    just a life! the sea is full    i know it! that    does not blur my gem! it burns    distinct from all the row    intact    in diadem! the life is thick    i know it! yet    not so dense a crowd    but monarchs    are perceptible    far down the dustiest road! 271 a solemn thing    it was    i said    a woman    white    to be    and wear    if god should count me fit    her blameless mystery    a hallowed thing    to drop a life into the purple well    too plummetless    that it return    eternity    until    i pondered how the bliss would look    and would it feel as big    when i could take it in my hand    as hovering    seen    through fog    and then    the size of this "small" life    the sages    call it small    swelled    like horizons    in my vest    and i sneered    softly    "small"! 272 i breathed enough to take the trick    and now, removed from air    i simulate the breath, so well    that one, to be quite sure    the lungs are stirless    must descend among the cunning cells    and touch the pantomine    himself, how numb, the bellows feels! 273 he put the belt around my life i heard the buckle snap    and turned away, imperial, my lifetime folding up    deliberate, as a duke would do a kingdom's title deed    henceforth, a dedicated sort    a member of the cloud. yet not too far to come at call    and do the little toils that make the circuit of the rest    and deal occasional smiles to lives that stoop to notice mine    and kindly ask it in    whose invitation, know you not for whom i must decline? 274 the only ghost i ever saw was dressed in mechlin    so    he wore no sandal on his foot    and stepped like flakes of snow    his gait    was soundless, like the bird    but rapid    like the roe    his fashions, quaint, mosaic    or haply, mistletoe    his conversation    seldom    his laughter, like the breeze    that dies away in dimples among the pensive trees    our interview    was transient    of me, himself was shy    and god forbid i look behind    since that appalling day! 275 doubt me! my dim companion! why, god, would be content with but a fraction of the life    poured thee, without a stint    the whole of me    forever    what more the woman can, say quick, that i may dower thee with last delight i own! it cannot be my spirit    for that was thine, before    i ceded all of dust i knew    what opulence the more had i    a freckled maiden, whose farthest of degree, was    that she might    some distant heaven, dwell timidly, with thee! sift her, from brow to barefoot! strain till your last surmise    drop, like a tapestry, away, before the fire's eyes    winnow her finest fondness    but hallow just the snow intact, in everlasting flake    oh, caviler, for you! 276 many a phrase has the english language    i have heard but one    low as the laughter of the cricket, loud, as the thunder's tongue    murmuring, like old caspian choirs, when the tide's a' lull    saying itself in new infection    like a whippoorwill    breaking in bright orthography on my simple sleep    thundering its prospective    till i stir, and weep    not for the sorrow, done me    but the push of joy    say it again, saxton! hush    only to me! 277 what if i say i shall not wait! what if i burst the fleshly gate    and pass escaped    to thee! what if i file this mortal    off    see where it hurt me    that's enough    and wade in liberty! they cannot take me    any more! dungeons can call    and guns implore unmeaning    now    to me    as laughter    was    an hour ago    or laces    or a travelling show    or who died    yesterday! 278 a shady friend    for torrid days    is easier to find    than one of higher temperature for frigid    hour of mind    the vane a little to the east    scares muslin souls    away    if broadcloth hearts are firmer    than those of organdy    who is to blame? the weaver? ah, the bewildering thread! the tapestries of paradise so notelessly    are made! 279 tie the strings to my life, my lord, then, i am ready to go! just a look at the horses    rapid! that will do! put me in on the firmest side    so i shall never fall    for we must ride to the judgment    and it's partly, down hill    but never i mind the steeper    and never i mind the sea    held fast in everlasting race    by my own choice, and thee    goodbye to the life i used to live    and the world i used to know    and kiss the hills, for me, just once    then    i am ready to go! 280 i felt a funeral, in my brain, and mourners to and fro kept treading    treading    till it seemed that sense was breaking through    and when they all were seated, a service, like a drum    kept beating    beating    till i thought my mind was going numb    and then i heard them lift a box and creak across my soul with those same boots of lead, again, then space    began to toll, as all the heavens were a bell, and being, but an ear, and i, and silence, some strange race wrecked, solitary, here    and then a plank in reason, broke, and i dropped down, and down    and hit a world, at every plunge, and finished knowing    then    281 'tis so appalling    it exhilarates    so over horror, it half captivates    the soul stares after it, secure    a sepulchre, fears frost, no more    to scan a ghost, is faint    but grappling, conquers it    how easy, torment, now    suspense kept sawing so    the truth, is bald, and cold    but that will hold    if any are not sure    we show them    prayer    but we, who know, stop hoping, now    looking at death, is dying    just let go the breath    and not the pillow at your cheek so slumbereth    others, can wrestle    yours, is done    and so of woe, bleak dreaded    come, it sets the fright at liberty    and terror's free    gay, ghastly, holiday! 282 how noteless men, and pleiads, stand, until a sudden sky reveals the fact that one is rapt forever from the eye    members of the invisible, existing, while we stare, in leagueless opportunity, o'ertakenless, as the air    why didn't we detain them? the heavens with a smile, sweep by our disappointed heads without a syllable    283 a mien to move a queen    half child    half heroine    an orleans in the eye that puts its manner by for humbler company when none are near even a tear    its frequent visitor    a bonnet like a duke    and yet a wren's peruke were not so shy of goer by    and hands    so slight    they would elate a sprite with merriment    a voice that alters    low and on the ear can go like let of snow    or shift supreme    as tone of realm on subjects diadem    too small    to fear    too distant    to endear    and so men compromise and just    revere    284 the drop, that wrestles in the sea    forgets her own locality    as i    toward thee    she knows herself an incense small    yet small    she sighs    if all    is all    how larger    be? the ocean    smiles    at her conceit    but she, forgetting amphitrite    pleads    "me"? 285 the robin's my criterion for tune    because i grow    where robins do    but, were i cuckoo born    i'd swear by him    the ode familiar    rules the noon    the buttercup's, my whim for bloom    because, we're orchard sprung    but, were i britain born, i'd daisies spurn    none but the nut    october fit    because, through dropping it, the seasons flit    i'm taught    without the snow's tableau winter, were lie    to me    because i see    new englandly    the queen, discerns like me    provincially    286 that after horror    that 'twas us    that passed the mouldering pier    just as the granite crumb let go    our savior, by a hair    a second more, had dropped too deep for fisherman to plumb    the very profile of the thought puts recollection numb    the possibility    to pass without a moment's bell    into conjecture's presence    is like a face of steel    that suddenly looks into ours with a metallic grin    the cordiality of death    who drills his welcome in    287 a clock stopped    not the mantel's    geneva's farthest skill can't put the puppet bowing    that just now dangled still    an awe came on the trinket! the figures hunched, with pain    then quivered out of decimals    into degreeless noon    it will not stir for doctors    this pendulum of snow    this shopman importunes it    while cool    concernless no    nods from the gilded pointers    nods from the seconds slim    decades of arrogance between the dial life    and him    288 i'm nobody! who are you? are you    nobody    too? then there's a pair of us! don't tell! they'd advertise    you know! how dreary    to be    somebody! how public    like a frog    to tell one's name    the livelong june    to an admiring bog! 289 i know some lonely houses off the road a robber'd like the look of    wooden barred, and windows hanging low, inviting to    a portico, where two could creep    one    hand the tools    the other peep    to make sure all's asleep    old fashioned eyes    not easy to surprise! how orderly the kitchen'd look, by night, with just a clock    but they could gag the tick    and mice won't bark    and so the walls    don't tell    none    will    a pair of spectacles ajar just stir    an almanac's aware    was it the mat    winked, or a nervous star? the moon    slides down the stair, to see who's there! there's plunder    where    tankard, or spoon    earring    or stone    a watch    some ancient brooch to match the grandmama    staid sleeping    there    day    rattles    too stealth's    slow    the sun has got as far as the third sycamore    screams chanticleer "who's there"? and echoes    trains away, sneer    "where"! while the old couple, just astir, fancy the sunrise    left the door ajar! 290 of bronze    and blaze    the north    tonight    so adequate    it forms    so preconcerted with itself    so distant    to alarms    and unconcern so sovereign to universe, or me    infects my simple spirit with taints of majesty    till i take vaster attitudes    and strut upon my stem    disdaining men, and oxygen, for arrogance of them    my splendors, are menagerie    but their completeless show will entertain the centuries when i, am long ago, an island in dishonored grass    whom none but beetles    know. 291 how the old mountains drip with sunset how the hemlocks burn    how the dun brake is draped in cinder by the wizard sun    how the old steeples hand the scarlet till the ball is full    have i the lip of the flamingo that i dare to tell? then, how the fire ebbs like billows    touching all the grass with a departing    sapphire    feature    as a duchess passed    how a small dusk crawls on the village till the houses blot and the odd flambeau, no men carry glimmer on the street    how it is night    in nest and kennel    and where was the wood    just a dome of abyss is bowing into solitude    these are the visions flitted guido    titian    never told    domenichino dropped his pencil    paralyzed, with gold    292 if your nerve, deny you    go above your nerve    he can lean against the grave, if he fear to swerve    that's a steady posture    never any bend held of those brass arms    best giant made    if your soul seesaw    lift the flesh door    the poltroon wants oxygen    nothing more    293 i got so i could take his name    without    tremendous gain    that stop sensation    on my soul    and thunder    in the room    i got so i could walk across that angle in the floor, where he turned so, and i turned    how    and all our sinew tore    i got so i could stir the box    in which his letters grew without that forcing, in my breath    as staples    driven through    could dimly recollect a grace    i think, they call it "god"    renowned to ease extremity    when formula, had failed    and shape my hands    petition's way, tho' ignorant of a word that ordination    utters    my business, with the cloud, if any power behind it, be, not subject to despair    it care, in some remoter way, for so minute affair as misery    itself, too vast, for interrupting    more    294 the doomed    regard the sunrise with different delight    because    when next it burns abroad they doubt to witness it    the man    to die    tomorrow    harks for the meadow bird    because its music stirs the axe that clamors for his head    joyful    to whom the sunrise precedes enamored    day    joyful    for whom the meadow bird has ought but elegy! 295 unto like story    trouble has enticed me    how kinsmen fell    brothers and sister    who preferred the glory    and their young will bent to the scaffold, or in dungeons    chanted    till god's full time    when they let go the ignominy    smiling    and shame went still    unto guessed crests, my moaning fancy, leads me, worn fair by heads rejected    in the lower country    of honors there    such spirit makes her perpetual mention, that i    grown bold    step martial    at my crucifixion    as trumpets    rolled    feet, small as mine    have marched in revolution firm to the drum    hands    not so stout    hoisted them    in witness    when speech went numb    let me not shame their sublime deportments    drilled bright    beckoning    etruscan invitation    toward light    296 one year ago    jots what? god    spell the word! i    can't    was't grace? not that    was't glory? that    will do    spell slower    glory    such anniversary shall be    sometimes    not often    in eternity    when farther parted, than the common woe    look    feed upon each other's faces    so    in doubtful meal, if it be possible their banquet's true    i tasted    careless    then    i did not know the wine came once a world    did you? oh, had you told me so    this thirst would blister    easier    now    you said it hurt you    most    mine    was an acorn's breast    and could not know how fondness grew in shaggier vest    perhaps    i couldn't    but, had you looked in    a giant    eye to eye with you, had been    no acorn    then    so    twelve months ago    we breathed    then dropped the air    which bore it best? was this    the patientest    because it was a child, you know    and could not value    air? if to be "elder"    mean most pain    i'm old enough, today, i'm certain    then    as old as thee    how soon? one    birthday more    or ten? let me    choose! ah, sir, none! 297 it's like the light    a fashionless delight    it's like the bee    a dateless    melody    it's like the woods    private    like the breeze    phraseless    yet it stirs the proudest trees    it's like the morning    best    when it's done    and the everlasting clocks    chime    noon! 298 alone, i cannot be    for hosts    do visit me    recordless company    who baffle key    they have no robes, nor names    no almanacs    nor climes    but general homes like gnomes    their coming, may be known by couriers within    their going    is not    for they've never gone    299 your riches    taught me    poverty. myself    a millionaire in little wealths, as girls could boast till broad as buenos ayre    you drifted your dominions    a different peru    and i esteemed all poverty for life's estate with you    of mines, i little know    myself    but just the names, of gems    the colors of the commonest    and scarce of diadems    so much, that did i meet the queen    her glory i should know    but this, must be a different wealth    to miss it    beggars so    i'm sure 'tis india    all day    to those who look on you    without a stint    without a blame, might i    but be the jew    i'm sure it is golconda    beyond my power to deem    to have a smile for mine    each day, how better, than a gem! at least, it solaces to know that there exists    a gold    altho' i prove it, just in time its distance    to behold    its far    far treasure to surmise    and estimate the pearl    that slipped my simple fingers through    while just a girl at school. 300 "morning"    means "milking"    to the farmer    dawn    to the teneriffe    dice    to the maid    morning means just risk    to the lover    just revelation    to the beloved    epicures    date a breakfast    by it    brides    an apocalypse    worlds    a flood    faint going lives    their lapse from sighing    faith    the experiment of our lord 301 i reason, earth is short    and anguish    absolute    and many hurt, but, what of that? i reason, we could die    the best vitality cannot excel decay, but, what of that? i reason, that in heaven    somehow, it will be even    some new equation, given    but, what of that? 302 like some old fashioned miracle when summertime is done    seems summer's recollection and the affairs of june as infinite tradition as cinderella's bays    or little john    of lincoln green    or blue beard's galleries    her bees have a fictitious hum    her blossoms, like a dream    elate us    till we almost weep    so plausible    they seem    her memories like strains    review    when orchestra is dumb    the violin in baize replaced    and ear    and heaven    numb    303 the soul selects her own society    then    shuts the door    to her divine majority    present no more    unmoved    she notes the chariots    pausing    at her low gate    unmoved    an emperor be kneeling upon her mat    i've known her    from an ample nation    choose one    then    close the valves of her attention    like stone    304 the day came slow    till five o'clock    then sprang before the hills like hindered rubies    or the light a sudden musket    spills    the purple could not keep the east    the sunrise shook abroad like breadths of topaz    packed a night    the lady just unrolled    the happy winds    their timbrels took    the birds    in docile rows arranged themselves around their prince the wind    is prince of those    the orchard sparkled like a jew    how mighty 'twas    to be a guest in this stupendous place    the parlor    of the day    305 the difference between despair and fear    is like the one between the instant of a wreck and when the wreck has been    the mind is smooth    no motion    contented as the eye upon the forehead of a bust    that knows    it cannot see    306 the soul's superior instants occur to her    alone    when friend    and earth's occasion have infinite withdrawn    or she    herself    ascended to too remote a height for lower recognition than her omnipotent    this mortal abolition is seldom    but as fair as apparition    subject to autocratic air    eternity's disclosure to favorites    a few    of the colossal substance of immortality 307 the one who could repeat the summer day    were greater than itself    though he minutest of mankind should be    and he    could reproduce the sun    at period of going down    the lingering    and the stain    i mean    when orient have been outgrown and occident    become unknown    his name    remain    308 i send two sunsets    day and i    in competition ran    i finished two    and several stars    while he    was making one    his own was ampler    but as i was saying to a friend    mine    is the more convenient to carry in the hand    309 for largest woman's hearth i knew    'tis little i can do    and yet the largest woman's heart could hold an arrow    too    and so, instructed by my own, i tenderer, turn me to. 310 give little anguish    lives will fret    give avalanches    and they'll slant    straighten    look cautious for their breath    but make no syllable    like death    who only shows the marble disc    sublimer sort    than speech    311 it sifts from leaden sieves    it powders all the wood. it fills with alabaster wool the wrinkles of the road    it makes an even face of mountain, and of plain    unbroken forehead from the east unto the east again    it reaches to the fence    it wraps it rail by rail till it is lost in fleeces    it deals celestial vail to stump, and stack    and stem    a summer's empty room    acres of joints, where harvests were, recordless, but for them   it ruffles wrists of posts as ankles of a queen    then stills its artisans    like ghosts    denying they have been    312 her    "last poems"    poets    ended    silver    perished    with her tongue    not on record    bubbled other, flute    or woman    so divine    not unto its summer    morning robin    uttered half the tune    gushed too free for the adoring    from the anglo florentine    late    the praise    'tis dull    conferring on the head too high to crown    diadem    or ducal showing    be its grave    sufficient sign    nought    that we    no poet's kinsman    suffocate    with easy woe    what, and if, ourself a bridegroom    put her down    in italy? 313 i should have been too glad, i see    too lifted    for the scant degree of life's penurious round    my little circuit would have shamed this new circumference    have blamed    the homelier time behind. i should have been too saved    i see    too rescued    fear too dim to me that i could spell the prayer i knew so perfect    yesterday    that scalding one    sabachthani    recited fluent    here    earth would have been too much    i see    and heaven    not enough for me    i should have had the joy without the fear    to justify    the palm    without the calvary    so savior    crucify    defeat    whets victory    they say    the reefs    in old gethsemane    endear the coast    beyond! 'tis beggars    banquets    can define    'tis parching    vitalizes wine    "faith" bleats    to understand! 314 nature    sometimes sears a sapling    sometimes    scalps a tree    her green people recollect it when they do not die    fainter leaves    to further seasons    dumbly testify    we    who have the souls    die oftener    not so vitally    315 he fumbles at your soul as players at the keys before they drop full music on    he stuns you by degrees    prepares your brittle nature for the ethereal blow by fainter hammers    further heard    then nearer    then so slow your breath has time to straighten    your brain    to bubble cool    deals    one    imperial    thunderbolt    that scalps your naked soul    when winds take forests in the paws    the universe    is still    316 the wind didn't come from the orchard    today    further than that    nor stop to play with the hay    nor joggle a hat    he's a transitive fellow    very    rely on that    if he leave a bur at the door we know he has climbed a fir    but the fir is where    declare    were you ever there? if he brings odors of clovers    and that is his business    not ours    then he has been with the mowers    whetting away the hours to sweet pauses of hay    his way    of a june day    if he fling sand, and pebble    little boys hats    and stubble    with an occasional steeple    and a hoarse "get out of the way, i say," who'd be the fool to stay? would you    say    would you be the fool to stay? 317 just so    jesus    raps    he    doesn't weary    last    at the knocker    and first    at the bell. then    on divinest tiptoe    standing    might he but spy the lady's soul    when he    retires    chilled    or weary    it will be ample time for    me    patient    upon the steps    until then    hears! i am knocking    low at thee. 318 i'll tell you how the sun rose    a ribbon at a time    the steeples swam in amethyst    the news, like squirrels, ran    the hills untied their bonnets    the bobolinks    begun    then i said softly to myself    "that must have been the sun"! but how he set    i know not    there seemed a purple stile that little yellow boys and girls were climbing all the while    till when they reached the other side, a dominie in gray    put gently up the evening bars    and led the flock away    319 the nearest dream recedes    unrealized    the heaven we chase, like the june bee    before the school boy, invites the race    stoops    to an easy clover    dips    evades    teases    deploys    then    to the royal clouds lifts his light pinnace    heedless of the boy    staring    bewildered    at the mocking sky    homesick for steadfast honey    ah, the bee flies not that brews that rare variety! 320 we play at paste    till qualified, for pearl    then, drop the paste    and deem ourself a fool    the shapes    though    were similar    and our new hands learned gem tactics    practicing sands    321 of all the sounds despatched abroad, there's not a charge to me like that old measure in the boughs    that phraseless melody    the wind does    working like a hand, whose fingers comb the sky    then quiver down    with tufts of tune    permitted gods, and me    inheritance, it is, to us    beyond the art to earn    beyond the trait to take away by robber, since the gain is gotten not of fingers    and inner than the bone    hid golden, for the whole of days, and even in the urn, i cannot vouch the merry dust do not arise and play in some odd fashion of its own, some quainter holiday, when winds go round and round in bands    and thrum upon the door, and birds take places, overhead, to bear them orchestra. i crave him grace of summer boughs, if such an outcast be    who never heard that fleshless chant    rise    solemn    on the tree, as if some caravan of sound off deserts, in the sky, had parted rank, then knit, and swept    in seamless company    322 there came a day at summer's full, entirely for me    i thought that such were for the saints, where resurrections    be    the sun, as common, went abroad, the flowers, accustomed, blew, as if no soul the solstice passed that maketh all things new    the time was scarce profaned, by speech    the symbol of a word was needless, as at sacrament, the wardrobe    of our lord    each was to each the sealed church, permitted to commune this    time    lest we too awkward show at supper of the lamb. the hours slid fast    as hours will, clutched tight, by greedy hands    so faces on two decks, look back, bound to opposing lands    and so when all the time had leaked, without external sound each bound the other's crucifix    we gave no other bond    sufficient troth, that we shall rise    deposed    at length, the grave    to that new marriage, justified    through calvaries of love    323 as if i asked a common alms, and in my wondering hand a stranger pressed a kingdom, and i, bewildered, stand    as if i asked the orient had it for me a morn    and it should lift its purple dikes, and shatter me with dawn! 324 some keep the sabbath going to church    i keep it, staying at home    with a bobolink for a chorister    and an orchard, for a dome    some keep the sabbath in surplice    i just wear my wings    and instead of tolling the bell, for church, our little sexton    sings. god preaches, a noted clergyman    and the sermon is never long, so instead of getting to heaven, at least    i'm going, all along. 325 of tribulation, these are they, denoted by the white    the spangled gowns, a lesser rank of victors    designate    all these    did conquer    but the ones who overcame most times    wear nothing commoner than snow    no ornament, but palms    surrender    is a sort unknown    on this superior soil    defeat    an outgrown anguish    remembered, as the mile our panting ankle barely passed    when night devoured the road    but we    stood whispering in the house    and all we said    was "saved"! 326 i cannot dance upon my toes    no man instructed me    but oftentimes, among my mind, a glee possesseth me, that had i ballet knowledge    would put itself abroad in pirouette to blanch a troupe    or lay a prima, mad, and though i had no gown of gauze    no ringlet, to my hair, nor hopped to audiences    like birds, one claw upon the air, nor tossed my shape in eider balls, nor rolled on wheels of snow till i was out of sight, in sound, the house encore me so    nor any know i know the art i mention    easy    here    nor any placard boast me    it's full as opera    327 before i got my eye put out i liked as well to see    as other creatures, that have eyes and know no other way    but were it told to me    today    that i might have the sky for mine    i tell you that my heart would split, for size of me    the meadows    mine    the mountains    mine    all forests    stintless stars    as much of noon as i could take between my finite eyes    the motions of the dipping birds    the morning's amber road    for mine    to look at when i liked    the news would strike me dead    so safer    guess    with just my soul upon the window pane    where other creatures put their eyes    incautious    of the sun    328 a bird came down the walk    he did not know i saw    he bit an angleworm in halves and ate the fellow, raw, and then he drank a dew from a convenient grass    and then hopped sidewise to the wall to let a beetle pass    he glanced with rapid eyes that hurried all around    they looked like frightened beads, i thought    he stirred his velvet head like one in danger, cautious, i offered him a crumb and he unrolled his feathers and rowed him softer home    than oars divide the ocean, too silver for a seam    or butterflies, off banks of noon leap, plashless as they swim. 329 so glad we are    a stranger'd deem 'twas sorry, that we were    for where the holiday should be there publishes a tear    nor how ourselves be justified    since grief and joy are done so similar    an optizan could not decide between    330 the juggler's hat her country is    the mountain gorse    the bee's! 331 while asters    on the hill    their everlasting fashions    set    and covenant gentians    frill! 332 there are two ripenings    one    of sight    whose forces spheric wind until the velvet product drop spicy to the ground    a homelier maturing    a process in the bur    that teeth of frosts alone disclose in far october air. 333 the grass so little has to do    a sphere of simple green    with only butterflies to brood and bees to entertain    and stir all day to pretty tunes the breezes fetch along    and hold the sunshine in its lap and bow to everything    and thread the dews, all night, like pearls    and make itself so fine a duchess were too common for such a noticing    and even when it dies    to pass in odors so divine    like lowly spices, lain to sleep    or spikenards, perishing    and then, in sovereign barns to dwell    and dream the days away, the grass so little has to do i wish i were a hay    334 all the letters i can write are not fair as this    syllables of velvet    sentences of plush, depths of ruby, undrained, hid, lip, for thee    play it were a humming bird    and just sipped    me    335 'tis not that dying hurts us so    'tis living    hurts us more    but dying    is a different way    a kind behind the door    the southern custom    of the bird    that ere the frosts are due    accepts a better latitude    we    are the birds    that stay. the shrivers round farmers' doors    for whose reluctant crumb    we stipulate    till pitying snows persuade our feathers home. 336 the face i carry with me    last    when i go out of time    to take my rank    by    in the west    that face    will just be thine    i'll hand it to the angel    that    sir    was my degree    in kingdoms    you have heard the raised    refer to    possibly. he'll take it    scan it    step aside    return    with such a crown as gabriel    never capered at    and beg me put it on    and then    he'll turn me round and round    to an admiring sky    as one that bore her master's name    sufficient royalty! 337 i know a place where summer strives with such a practised frost    she    each year    leads her daisies back    recording briefly    "lost"    but when the south wind stirs the pools and struggles in the lanes    her heart misgives her, for her vow    and she pours soft refrains into the lap of adamant    and spices    and the dew    that stiffens quietly to quartz    upon her amber shoe    338 i know that he exists. somewhere    in silence    he has hid his rare life from our gross eyes. 'tis an instant's play. 'tis a fond ambush    just to make bliss earn her own surprise! but    should the play prove piercing earnest    should the glee    glaze    in death's    stiff    stare    would not the fun look too expensive! would not the jest    have crawled too far! 339 i tend my flowers for thee    bright absentee! my fuchsia's coral seams rip    while the sower    dreams    geraniums    tint    and spot    low daisies    dot    my cactus    splits her beard to show her throat    carnations    tip their spice    and bees    pick up    a hyacinth    i hid    puts out a ruffled head    and odors fall from flasks    so small    you marvel how they held    globe roses    break their satin glake    upon my garden floor    yet    thou    not there    i had as lief they bore no crimson    more    thy flower    be gay    her lord    away! it ill becometh me    i'll dwell in calyx    gray    how modestly    alway    thy daisy    draped for thee! 340 is bliss then, such abyss, i must not put my foot amiss for fear i spoil my shoe? i'd rather suit my foot than save my boot    for yet to buy another pair is possible, at any store    but bliss, is sold just once. the patent lost none buy it any more    say, foot, decide the point    the lady cross, or not? verdict for boot! 341 after great pain, a formal feeling comes    the nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs    the stiff heart questions was it he, that bore, and yesterday, or centuries before? the feet, mechanical, go round    of ground, or air, or ought    a wooden way regardless grown, a quartz contentment, like a stone    this is the hour of lead    remembered, if outlived, as freezing persons, recollect the snow    first    chill    then stupor    then the letting go    342 it will be summer    eventually. ladies    with parasols    sauntering gentlemen    with canes    and little girls    with dolls    will tint the pallid landscape    as 'twere a bright bouquet    thro' drifted deep, in parian    the village lies    today    the lilacs    bending many a year    will sway with purple load    the bees    will not despise the tune    their forefathers    have hummed    the wild rose    redden in the bog    the aster    on the hill her everlasting fashion    set    and covenant gentians    frill    till summer folds her miracle    as women    do    their gown    of priests    adjust the symbols    when sacrament    is done    343 my reward for being, was this. my premium    my bliss    an admiralty, less    a sceptre    penniless    and realms    just dross    when thrones accost my hands    with "me, miss, me"    i'll unroll thee    dominions dowerless    beside this grace    election    vote    the ballots of eternity, will show just that. 344 'twas the old    road    through pain    that unfrequented    one    with many a turn    and thorn    that stops    at heaven    this    was the town    she passed    there    where she    rested    last    then    stepped more fast    the little tracks    close prest    then    not so swift    slow    slow    as feet did weary    grow    then    stopped    no other track! wait! look! her little book    the leaf    at love    turned back    her very hat    and this worn shoe just fits the track    herself    though    fled! another bed    a short one    women make    tonight    in chambers bright    too out of sight    though    for our hoarse good night    to touch her head! 345 funny    to be a century    and see the people    going by    i    should die of the oddity    but then    i'm not so staid    as he    he keeps his secrets safely    very    were he to tell    extremely sorry this bashful globe of ours would be    so dainty of publicity    346 not probable    the barest chance    a smile too few    a word too much and far from heaven as the rest    the soul so close on paradise    what if the bird from journey far    confused by sweets    as mortals    are    forget the secret of his wing and perish    but a bough between    oh, groping feet    oh phantom queen! 347 when night is almost done    and sunrise grows so near that we can touch the spaces    it's time to smooth the hair    and get the dimples ready    and wonder we could care for that old    faded midnight    that frightened    but an hour    348 i dreaded that first robin, so, but he is mastered, now, i'm accustomed to him grown, he hurts a little, though    i thought if i could only live till that first shout got by    not all pianos in the woods had power to mangle me    i dared not meet the daffodils    for fear their yellow gown would pierce me with a fashion so foreign to my own    i wished the grass would hurry    so    when 'twas time to see    he'd be too tall, the tallest one could stretch    to look at me    i could not bear the bees should come, i wished they'd stay away in those dim countries where they go, what word had they, for me? they're here, though; not a creature failed    no blossom stayed away in gentle deference to me    the queen of calvary    each one salutes me, as he goes, and i, my childish plumes, lift, in bereaved acknowledgment of their unthinking drums    349 i had the glory    that will do    an honor, thought can turn her to when lesser fames invite    with one long "nay"    bliss' early shape deforming    dwindling    gulfing up    time's possibility. 350 they leave us with the infinite. but he    is not a man    his fingers are the size of fists    his fists, the size of men    and whom he foundeth, with his arm as himmaleh, shall stand    gibraltar's everlasting shoe poised lightly on his hand, so trust him, comrade    you for you, and i, for you and me eternity is ample, and quick enough, if true. 351 i felt my life with both my hands to see if it was there    i held my spirit to the glass, to prove it possibler    i turned my being round and round and paused at every pound to ask the owner's name    for doubt, that i should know the sound    i judged my features    jarred my hair    i pushed my dimples by, and waited    if they    twinkled back    conviction might, of me    i told myself, "take courage, friend    that    was a former time    but we might learn to like the heaven, as well as our old home!" 352 perhaps i asked too large    i take    no less than skies    for earths, grow thick as berries, in my native town    my basked holds    just    firmaments    those    dangle easy    on my arm, but smaller bundles    cram. 353 a happy lip    breaks sudden    it doesn't state you how it contemplated    smiling    just consummated    now    but this one, wears its merriment so patient    like a pain    fresh gilded    to elude the eyes unqualified, to scan    354 from cocoon forth a butterfly as lady from her door emerged    a summer afternoon    repairing everywhere    without design    that i could trace except to stray abroad on miscellaneous enterprise the clovers    understood    her pretty parasol be seen contracting in a field where men made hay    then struggling hard with an opposing cloud    where parties    phantom as herself    to nowhere    seemed to go in purposeless circumference    as 'twere a tropic show    and notwithstanding bee    that worked    and flower    that zealous blew    this audience of idleness disdained them, from the sky    till sundown crept    a steady tide    and men that made the hay    and afternoon    and butterfly    extinguished    in the sea    355 'tis opposites    entice    deformed men    ponder grace    bright fires    the blanketless    the lost    day's face    the blind    esteem it be enough estate    to see    the captive    strangles new    for deeming    beggars    play    to lack    enamor thee    tho' the divinity    be only me    356 the day that i was crowned was like the other days    until the coronation came    and then    'twas otherwise    as carbon in the coal and carbon in the gem are one    and yet the former were dull for diadem    i rose, and all was plain    but when the day declined myself and it, in majesty were equally    adorned    the grace that i    was chose    to me    surpassed the crown that was the witness for the grace    'twas even that 'twas mine    357 god is a distant    stately lover    woos, as he states us    by his son    verily, a vicarious courtship    "miles", and "priscilla", were such an one    but, lest the soul    like fair "priscilla" choose the envoy    and spurn the groom    vouches, with hyperbolic archness    "miles", and "john alden" were synonym    358 if any sink, assure that this, now standing    failed like themselves    and conscious that it rose    grew by the fact, and not the understanding how weakness passed    or force    arose    tell that the worst, is easy in a moment    dread, but the whizzing, before the ball    when the ball enters, enters silence    dying    annuls the power to kill. 359 i gained it so    by climbing slow    by catching at the twigs that grow between the bliss    and me    it hung so high as well the sky attempt by strategy    i said i gained it    this    was all    look, how i clutch it lest it fall    and i a pauper go    unfitted by an instant's grace for the contented    beggar's face i wore    an hour ago    360 death sets a thing significant the eye had hurried by except a perished creature entreat us tenderly to ponder little workmanships in crayon, or in wool, with "this was last her fingers did"    industrious until    the thimble weighed too heavy    the stitches stopped    by themselves    and then 'twas put among the dust upon the closet shelves    a book i have    a friend gave    whose pencil    here and there    had notched the place that pleased him    at rest    his fingers are    now    when i read    i read not    for interrupting tears    obliterate the etchings too costly for repairs. 361 what i can do    i will    though it be little as a daffodil    that i cannot    must be unknown to possibility    362 it struck me    every day    the lightning was as new as if the cloud that instant slit and let the fire through    it burned me    in the night    it blistered to my dream    it sickened fresh upon my sight    with every morn that came    i though that storm    was brief    the maddest    quickest by    but nature lost the date of this    and left it in the sky    363 i went to thank her    but she slept    her bed    a funneled stone    with nosegays at the head and foot    that travellers    had thrown    who went to thank her    but she slept    'twas short    to cross the sea    to look upon her like    alive    but turning back    'twas slow    364 the morning after woe    'tis frequently the way    surpasses all that rose before    for utter jubilee    as nature did not care    and piled her blossoms on    and further to parade a joy her victim stared upon    the birds declaim their tunes    pronouncing every word like hammers    did they know they fell like litanies of lead    on here and there    a creature    they'd modify the glee to fit some crucifixal clef    some key of calvary    365 dare you see a soul at the white heat? then crouch within the door    red    is the fire's common tint    but when the vivid ore has vanquished flame's conditions, it quivers from the forge without a color, but the light of unanointed blaze. least village has its blacksmith whose anvil's even ring stands symbol for the finer forge that soundless tugs    within    refining these impatient ores with hammer, and with blaze until the designated light repudiate the forge    366 although i put away his life    an ornament too grand for forehead low as mine, to wear, this might have been the hand that sowed the flower, he preferred    or smoothed a homely pain, or pushed the pebble from his path    or played his chosen tune    on lute the least    the latest    but just his ear could know that whatsoe'er delighted it, i never would let go    the foot to bear his errand    a little boot i know    would leap abroad like antelope    with just the grant to do    his weariest commandment    a sweeter to obey, than "hide and seek"    or skip to flutes    or all day, chase the bee    your servant, sir, will weary    the surgeon, will not come    the world, will have its own    to do    the dust, will vex your fame    the cold will force your tightest door some february day, but say my apron bring the sticks to make your cottage gay    that i may take that promise to paradise, with me    to teach the angels, avarice, you, sir, taught first    to me. 367 over and over, like a tune    the recollection plays    drums off the phantom battlements cornets of paradise    snatches, from baptized generations    cadences too grand but for the justified processions at the lord's right hand. 368 how sick    to wait    in any place    but thine    i knew last night    when someone tried to twine    thinking    perhaps    that i looked tired    or alone    or breaking    almost    with unspoken pain    and i turned    ducal    that right    was thine    one port    suffices    for a brig    like mine    ours be the tossing    wild though the sea    rather than a mooring    unshared by thee. ours be the cargo    unladed    here    rather than the "spicy isles   " and thou    not there    369 she lay as if at play her life had leaped away    intending to return    but not so soon    her merry arms, half dropt    as if for lull of sport    an instant had forgot    the trick to start    her dancing eyes    ajar    as if their owner were still sparkling through for fun    at you    her morning at the door    devising, i am sure    to force her sleep    so light    so deep    370 heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved    the site    of it    by architect could not again be proved    'tis vast    as our capacity    as fair    as our idea    to him of adequate desire no further 'tis, than here    371 a precious    mouldering pleasure    'tis    to meet an antique book    in just the dress his century wore    a privilege    i think    his venerable hand to take    and warming in our own    a passage back    or two    to make    to times when he    was young    his quaint opinions    to inspect    his thought to ascertain on themes concern our mutual mind    the literature of man    what interested scholars    most    what competitions ran    when plato    was a certainty    and sophocles    a man    when sappho    was a living girl    and beatrice wore the gown that dante    deified    facts centuries before he traverses    familiar    as one should come to town    and tell you all your dreams    were true    he lived    where dreams were born    his presence is enchantment    you beg him not to go    old volume shake their vellum heads and tantalize    just so    372 i know lives, i could miss without a misery    others    whose instant's wanting    would be eternity    the last    a scanty number    'twould scarcely fill a two    the first    a gnat's horizon could easily outgrow    373 i'm saying every day "if i should be a queen, tomorrow"    i'd do this way    and so i deck, a little, if it be, i wake a bourbon, none on me, bend supercilious    with "this was she    begged in the market place    yesterday." court is a stately place    i've heard men say    so i loop my apron, against the majesty with bright pins of buttercup    that not too plain    rank    overtake me    and perch my tongue on twigs of singing    rather high    but this, might be my brief term to qualify    put from my simple speech all plain word    take other accents, as such i heard though but for the cricket    just, and but for the bee    not in all the meadow    one accost me    better to be ready    than did next morn meet me in aragon    my old gown    on    and the surprised air rustics    wear    summoned    unexpectedly    to exeter    374 i went to heaven    'twas a small town    lit    with a ruby    lathed    with down    stiller    than the fields at the full dew    beautiful    as pictures    no man drew. people    like the moth    of mechlin    frames    duties    of gossamer    and eider    names    almost    contented    i    could be    'mong such unique society    375 the angle of a landscape    that every time i wake    between my curtain and the wall upon an ample crack    like a venetian    waiting    accosts my open eye    is just a bough of apples    held slanting, in the sky    the pattern of a chimney    the forehead of a hill    sometimes    a vane's forefinger    but that's    occasional    the seasons    shift    my picture    upon my emerald bough, i wake    to find no    emeralds    then    diamonds    which the snow from polar caskets    fetched me    the chimney    and the hill    and just the steeple's finger    these    never stir at all    376 of course    i prayed    and did god care? he cared as much as on the air a bird    had stamped her foot    and cried "give me"    my reason    life    i had not had    but for yourself    'twere better charity to leave me in the atom's tomb    merry, and nought, and gay, and numb    than this smart misery. 377 to lose one's faith    surpass the loss of an estate    because estates can be replenished    faith cannot    inherited with life    belief    but once    can be    annihilate a single clause    and being's    beggary    378 i saw no way    the heavens were stitched    i felt the columns close    the earth reversed her hemispheres    i touched the universe    and back it slid    and i alone    a speck upon a ball    went out upon circumference    beyond the dip of bell    379 rehearsal to ourselves of a withdrawn delight    affords a bliss like murder    omnipotent    acute    we will not drop the dirk    because we love the wound the dirk commemorate    itself remind us that we died. 380 there is a flower that bees prefer    and butterflies    desire    to gain the purple democrat the humming bird    aspire    and whatsoever insect pass    a honey bear away proportioned to his several dearth and her    capacity    her face be rounder than the moon and ruddier than the gown or orchis in the pasture    or rhododendron    worn    she doth not wait for june    before the world be green    her sturdy little countenance against the wind    be seen    contending with the grass    near kinsman to herself    for privilege of sod and sun    sweet litigants for life    and when the hills be full    and newer fashions blow    doth not retract a single spice for pang of jealousy    her public    be the noon    her providence    the sun    her progress    by the bee    proclaimed    in sovereign    swerveless tune    the bravest    of the host    surrendering    the last    nor even of defeat    aware    what cancelled by the frost    381 a secret told    ceases to be a secret    then    a secret    kept    that    can appal but one    better of it    continual be afraid    than it    and whom you told it to    beside    382 for death    or rather for the things 'twould buy    this    put away life's opportunity    the things that death will buy are room    escape from circumstances    and a name    with gifts of life how death's gifts may compare    we know not    for the rates    lie here    383 exhilaration    is within    there can no outer wine so royally intoxicate as that diviner brand the soul achieves    herself    to drink    or set away for visitor    or sacrament    'tis not of holiday to stimulate a man who hath the ample rhine within his closet    best you can exhale in offering. 384 no rack can torture me    my soul    at liberty    behind this mortal bone there knits a bolder one    you cannot prick with saw    nor pierce with scimitar    two bodies    therefore be    bind one    the other fly    the eagle of his nest no easier divest    and gain the sky than mayest thou    except thyself may be thine enemy    captivity is consciousness    so's liberty. 385 smiling back from coronation may be luxury    on the heads that started with us    being's peasantry    recognizing in procession ones we former knew    when ourselves were also dusty    centuries ago    had the triumph no conviction of how many be    stimulated    by the contrast    unto misery    386 answer july    where is the bee    where is the blush    where is the hay? ah, said july    where is the seed    where is the bud    where is the may    answer thee    me    nay    said the may    show me the snow    show me the bells    show me the jay! quibbled the jay    where be the maize    where be the haze    where be the bur? here    said the year    387 the sweetest heresy received that man and woman know    each other's convert    though the faith accommodate but two    the churches are so frequent    the ritual    so small    the grace so unavoidable    to fail    is infidel    388 take your heaven further on    this    to heaven divine has gone    had you earlier blundered in possibly, e'en you had seen an eternity    put on    now    to ring a door beyond is the utmost of your hand    to the skies    apologize    nearer to your courtesies than this sufferer polite    dressed to meet you    see    in white! 389 there's been a death, in the opposite house, as lately as today    i know it, by the numb look such houses have    alway    the neighbors rustle in and out    the doctor    drives away    a window opens like a pod    abrupt    mechanically    somebody flings a mattress out    the children hurry by    they wonder if it died    on that    i used to    when a boy    the minister    goes stiffly in    as if the house were his    and he owned all the mourners    now    and little boys    besides    and then the milliner    and the man of the appalling trade    to take the measure of the house    there'll be that dark parade    of tassels    and of coaches    soon    it's easy as a sign    the intuition of the news    in just a country town    390 it's coming    the postponeless creature    it gains the block    and now    it gains the door    chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings    enters    with a "you know me    sir"? simple salute    and certain recognition    bold    were it enemy    brief    were it friend    dresses each house in crape, and icicle    and carries one    out of it    to god    391 a visitor in marl    who influences flowers    till they are orderly as busts    and elegant    as glass    who visits in the night    and just before the sun    concludes his glistening interview    caresses    and is gone    but whom his fingers touched    and where his feet have run    and whatsoever mouth be kissed    is as it had not been    392 through the dark sod    as education    the lily passes sure    feels her white foot    no trepidation    her faith    no fear    afterward    in the meadow    swinging her beryl bell    the mold life    all forgotten    now    in ecstasy    and dell    393 did our best moment last    'twould supersede the heaven    a few    and they by risk    procure    so this sort    are not given    except as stimulants    in cases of despair    or stupor    the reserve    these heavenly moments are    a grant of the divine    that certain as it comes    withdraws    and leaves the dazzled soul in her unfurnished rooms 394 'twas love    not me    oh punish    pray    the real one died for thee    just him    not me    such guilt    to love thee    most! doom it beyond the rest    forgive it    last    'twas base as jesus    most! let justice not mistake    we two    looked so alike    which was the guilty sake    'twas love's    now strike! 395 reverse cannot befall that fine prosperity whose sources are interior    as soon    adversity a diamond    overtake in far    bolivian ground    misfortune hath no implement could mar it    if it found    396 there is a languor of the life more imminent than pain    'tis pain's successor    when the soul has suffered all it can    a drowsiness    diffuses    a dimness like a fog envelops consciousness    as mists    obliterate a crag. the surgeon    does not blanch    at pain his habit    is severe    but tell him that it ceased to feel    the creature lying there    and he will tell you    skill is late    a mightier than he    has ministered before him    there's no vitality. 397 when diamonds are a legend, and diadems    a tale    i brooch and earrings for myself, do sow, and raise for sale    and tho' i'm scarce accounted, my art, a summer day    had patrons    once    it was a queen    and once    a butterfly    398 i had not minded    walls    were universe    one rock    and fr i heard his silver call the other side the block    i'd tunnel    till my groove pushed sudden thro' to his    then my face take her recompense    the looking in his eyes    but 'tis a single hair    a filament    a law    a cobweb    wove in adamant    a battlement    of straw    a limit like the veil unto the lady's face    but every mesh    a citadel    and dragons    in the crease    399 a house upon the height    that wagon never reached    no dead, were ever carried down    no peddler's cart    approached    whose chimney never smoked    whose windows    night and morn    caught sunrise first    and sunset    last    then    held an empty pane    whose fate    conjecture knew    no other neighbor    did    and what it was    we never lisped    because he    never told    400 a tongue    to tell him i am true! its fee    to be of gold    had nature    in her monstrous house a single ragged child    to earn a mine    would run that interdicted way, and tell him    charge thee speak it plain    that so far    truth is true? and answer what i do    beginning with the day that night    begun    nay    midnight    'twas    since midnight    happened    say    if once more    pardon    boy    the magnitude thou may enlarge my message    if too vast another lad    help thee    thy pay    in diamonds    be    and his    in solid gold    say rubies    if he hesitate    my message    must be told    say    last i said    was this    that when the hills    come down    and hold no higher than the plain    my bond    have just begun    and when the heavens    disband    and deity conclude    then    look for me. be sure you say    least figure    on the road    401 what soft    cherubic creatures    these gentlewomen are    one would as soon assault a plush    or violate a star    such dimity convictions    a horror so refined of freckled human nature    of deity    ashamed    it's such a common    glory    a fisherman's    degree    redemption    brittle lady    be so    ashamed of thee    402 i pay    in satin cash    you did not state    your price    a petal, for a paragraph it near as i can guess    403 the winters are so short    i'm hardly justified in sending all the birds away    and moving into pod    myself    for scarcely settled    the phoebes have begun    and then    it's time to strike my tent    and open house    again    it's mostly, interruptions    my summer    is despoiled    because there was a winter    once    and al the cattle    starved    and so there was a deluge    and swept the world away    but ararat's a legend    now    and no one credits noah    404 how many flowers fail in wood    or perish from the hill    without the privilege to know that they are beautiful    how many cast a nameless pod upon the nearest breeze    unconscious of the scarlet freight    it bear to other eyes    405 it might be lonelier without the loneliness    i'm so accustomed to my fate    perhaps the other    peace    would interrupt the dark    and crowd the little room    too scant    by cubits    to contain the sacrament    of him    i am not used to hope    it might intrude upon    its sweet parade    blaspheme the place    ordained to suffering    it might be easier to fail    with land in sight    than gain    my blue peninsula    to perish    of delight    406 some    work for immortality    the chiefer part, for time    he    compensates    immediately    the former    checks    on fame    slow gold    but everlasting    the bullion of today    contrasted with the currency of immortality    a beggar    here and there    is gifted to discern beyond the broker's insight    one's    money    one's    the mine   407 if what we could    were what we would    criterion    be small    it is the ultimate of talk    the impotence to tell    408 unit, like death, for whom? true, like the tomb, who tells no secret told to him    the grave is strict    tickets admit just two    the bearer    and the borne    and seat    just one    the living    tell    the dying    but a syllable    the coy dead    none    no chatter    here    no tea    so babbler, and bohea    stay there    but gravity    and expectation    and fear    a tremor just, that all's not sure. 409 they dropped like flakes    they dropped like stars    like petals from a rose    when suddenly across the june a wind with fingers    goes    they perished in the seamless grass    no eye could find the place    but god can summon every face of his repealless    list. 410 the first day's night had come    and grateful that a thing so terrible    had been endured    i told my soul to sing    she said her strings were snapt    her bow    to atoms blown    and so to mend her    gave me work until another morn    and then    a day as huge as yesterdays in pairs, unrolled its horror in my face    until it blocked my eyes    my brain    begun to laugh    i mumbled    like a fool    and tho' 'tis years ago    that day    my brain keeps giggling    still. and something's odd    within    that person that i was    and this one    do not feel the same    could it be madness    this? 411 the color of the grave is green    the outer grave    i mean    you would not know it from the field    except it own a stone    to help the fond    to find it    too infinite asleep to stop and tell them where it is    but just a daisy    deep    the color of the grave is white    the outer grave    i mean    you would not know it from the drifts    in winter    till the sun    has furrowed out the aisles    then    higher than the land the little dwelling houses rise where each    has left a friend    the color of the grave within    the duplicate    i mean    not all the snows could make it white    not all the summers    green    you've seen the color    maybe    upon a bonnet bound    when that you met it with before    the ferret    cannot find    412 i read my sentence    steadily    reviewed it with my eyes, to see that i made no mistake in its extremest clause    the date, and manner, of the shame    and then the pious form that "god have mercy" on the soul the jury voted him    i made my soul familiar    with her extremity    that at the last, it should not be a novel agony    but she, and death, acquainted    meet tranquilly, as friends    salute, and pass, without a hint    and there, the matter ends    413 i never felt at home    below     and in the handsome skies i shall not feel at home    i know    i don't like paradise    because it's sunday    all the time    and recess    never comes    and eden'll be so lonesome bright wednesday afternoons    if god could make a visit    or ever took a nap    so not to see us    but they say himself    a telescope perennial beholds us    myself would run away from him    and holy ghost    and all    but there's the "judgement day"! 414 'twas like a maelstrom, with a notch, that nearer, every day, kept narrowing its boiling wheel until the agony toyed coolly with the final inch of your delirious hem    and you dropt, lost, when something broke    and let you from a dream    as if a goblin with a gauge    kept measuring the hours    until you felt your second weigh, helpless, in his paws    and not a sinew    stirred    could help, and sense was setting numb    when god    remembered    and the fiend let go, then, overcome    as if your sentence stood    pronounced    and you were frozen led from dungeon's luxury of doubt to gibbets, and the dead    and when the film had stitched your eyes a creature gasped "reprieve"! which anguish was the utterest    then    to perish, or to live? 415 sunset at night    is natural    but sunset on the dawn reverses nature    master    so midnight's    due    at noon. eclipses be    predicted    and science bows them in    but do one face us suddenly    jehovah's watch    is wrong. 416 a murmur in the trees    to note    not loud enough    for wind    a star    not far enough to seek    nor near enough    to find    a long    long yellow    on the lawn    a hubbub    as of feet    not audible    as ours    to us    but dapperer    more sweet    a hurrying home of little men to houses unperceived    all this    and more    if i should tell    would never be believed    of robins in the trundle bed how many i espy whose nightgowns could not hide the wings    although i heard them try    but then i promised ne'er to tell    how could i break my word? so go your way    and i'll go mine    no fear you'll miss the road. 417 is it dead    find it    out of sound    out of sight    "happy"? which is wiser    you, or the wind? "conscious"? won't you ask that    of the low ground? "homesick"? many met it    even through them    this cannot testify    themself    as dumb    418 not in this world to see his face    sounds long    until i read the place where this    is said to be but just the primer    to a life    unopened    rare    upon the shelf    clasped yet    to him    and me    and yet    my primer suits me so i would not choose    a book to know than that    be sweeter wise    might some one else    so learned    be    and leave me    just my a    b    c    himself    could have the skies    419 we grow accustomed to the dark    when light is put away    as when the neighbor holds the lamp to witness her goodbye    a moment    we uncertain step for newness of the night    then    fit our vision to the dark    and meet the road    erect    and so of larger    darkness    those evenings of the brain    when not a moon disclose a sign    or star    come out    within    the bravest    grope a little    and sometimes hit a tree directly in the forehead    but as they learn to see    either the darkness alters    or something in the sight adjusts itself to midnight    and life steps almost straight. 420 you'll know it    as you know 'tis noon    by glory    as you do the sun    by glory    as you will in heaven    know god the father    and the son. by intuition, mightiest things assert themselves    and not by terms    "i'm midnight"    need the midnight say    "i'm sunrise"    need the majesty? omnipotence    had not a tongue    his listp    is lightning    and the sun    his conversation    with the sea    "how shall you know"? consult your eye! 421 a charm invests a face imperfectly beheld    the lady date not lift her veil for fear it be dispelled    but peers beyond her mesh    and wishes    and denies    lest interview    annul a want that image    satisfies    422 more life    went out    when he went than ordinary breath    lit with a finer phosphor    requiring in the quench    a power of renowned cold, the climate of the grave a temperature just adequate so anthracite, to live    for some    an ampler zero    a frost more needle keen is necessary, to reduce the ethiop within. others    extinguish easier    a gnat's minutest fan sufficient to obliterate a tract of citizen    whose peat lift    amply vivid    ignores the solemn news that popocatapel exists    or etna's scarlets, choose    423 the months have ends    the years    a knot    no power can untie to stretch a little further a skein of misery    the earth lays back these tired lives in her mysterious drawers    too tenderly, that any doubt an ultimate repose    the manner of the children    who weary of the day    themself    the noisy plaything they cannot put away    424 removed from accident of loss by accident of gain befalling not my simple days    myself had just to earn    of riches    as unconscious as is the brown malay of pearls in eastern waters, marked his    what holiday would stir his slow conception    had he the power to dream that put the dower's fraction    awaited even    him    425 good morning    midnight    i'm coming home    day    got tired of me    how could i    of him? sunshine was a sweet place    i liked to stay    but morn    didn't want me    now    so    goodnight    day! i can look    can't i    when the east is red? the hills    have a way    then    that puts the heart    abroad    you    are not so fair    midnight    i chose    day    but    please take a little girl    he turned away! 426 it don't sound so terrible    quite    as it did    i run it over    "dead", brain, "dead." put it in latin    left of my school    seems it don't shriek so    under rule. turn it, a little    full in the face a trouble looks bitterest    shift it    just    say "when tomorrow comes this way    i shall have waded down one day." i suppose it will interrupt me some till i get accustomed    but then the tomb like other new things    shows largest    then    and smaller, by habit    it's shrewder then put the thought in advance    a year    how like "a fit"    then    murder    wear! 427 i'll clutch    and clutch    next    one    might be the golden touch    could take it    diamonds    wait    i'm diving    just a little late    but stars    go slow    for night    i'll string you    in fine necklace    tiaras    make    of some    wear you on hem    loop up a countess    with you    make    a diadem    and mend my old one    count    hoard    then lose    and doubt that you are mine    to have the joy of feeling it    again    i'll show you at the court    bear you    for ornament where women breathe    that every sigh    may lift you just as high    as i    and    when i die    in meek array    display you    still to show    how rich i go    lest skies impeach a wealth so wonderful    and banish me    428 taking up the fair ideal, just to cast her down when a fracture    we discover    or a splintered crown    makes the heavens portable    and the gods    a lie    doubtless    "adam"    scowled at eden    for his perjury! cherishing    our pool ideal    till in purer dress    we behold her    glorified    comforts    search    like this    till the broken creatures    we adored    for whole    stains    all washed    transfigured    mended    meet us    with a smile    429 the moon is distant from the sea    and yet, with amber hands    she leads him    docile as a boy    along appointed sands    he never misses a degree    obedient to her eye he comes just so far    toward the town    just so far    goes away    oh, signor, thine, the amber hand    and mine    the distant sea    obedient to the least command thine eye impose on me    430 it would never be common    more    i said    difference    had begun    many a bitterness    had been    but that old sort    was done    or    if it sometime    showed    as 'twill    upon the downiest    morn    such bliss    had i    for all the years    'twould give an easier    pain    i'd so much joy    i told it    red    upon my simple cheek    i felt it publish    in my eye    'twas needless    any speak    i walked    as wings    my body bore    the feet    i former used    unnecessary    now to me    as boots    would be    to birds    i put my pleasure all abroad    i dealth a word of gold to every creature    that i met    and dowered    all the world    when    suddenly    my riches shrank    a goblin    drank my dew    my palaces    dropped tenantless    myself    was beggared    too    i clutched at sounds    i groped at shapes    i touched the tops of films    i felt the wilderness roll back along my golden lines    the sackcloth    hangs upon the nail    the frock i used to wear    but where my moment of brocade    my    drop    of india? 431 me    come! my dazzled face in such a shining place! me    hear! my foreign ear the sounds of welcome    there! the saints forget our bashful feet    my holiday, shall be that they    remember me    my paradise    the fame that they    pronounce my name    432 do people moulder equally, they bury, in the grave? i do believe a species as positively live as i, who testify it deny that i    am dead    and fill my lungs, for witness    from tanks    above my head    i say to you, said jesus    that there be standing here    a sort, that shall not taste of death    if jesus was sincere    i need no further argue    that statement of the lord is not a controvertible    he told me, death was dead    433 knows how to forget! but could it teach it? easiest of arts, they say when one learn how dull hearts have died in the acquisition sacrificed for science is common, though, now    i went to school but was not wiser globe did not teach it nor logarithm show "how to forget"! say    some    philosopher! ah, to be erudite enough to know! is it in a book? so, i could buy it    is it like a planet? telescopes would know    if it be invention it must have a patent. rabbi of the wise book don't you know? 434 to love thee year by year    may less appear than sacrifice, and cease    however, dear, forever might be short, i thought to show    and so i pieced it, with a flower, now. 435 much madness is divinest sense    to a discerning eye    much sense    the starkest madness    'tis the majority in this, as all, prevail    assent    and you are sane    demur    you're straightway dangerous    and handled with a chain    436 the wind    tapped like a tired man    and like a host    "come in" i boldly answered    entered then my residence within a rapid    footless guest    to offer whom a chair were as impossible as hand a sofa to the air    no bone had he to bind him    his speech was like the push of numerous humming birds at once from a superior bush    his countenance    a billow    his fingers, as he passed let go a music    as of tunes blown tremulous in glass    he visited    still flitting    then like a timid man again, he tapped    'twas flurriedly    and i became alone    437 prayer is the little implement through which men reach where presence    is denied them. they fling their speech by means of it    in god's ear    if then he hear    this sums the apparatus comprised in prayer    438 forget! the lady with the amulet forget she wore it at her heart because she breathed against was treason twixt? deny! did rose her bee    for privilege of play or wile of butterfly or opportunity    her lord away? the lady with the amulet    will face    the bee    in mausoleum laid    discard his bride    but longer than the little rill    that cooled the forehead of the hill    while other    went the sea to fill    and other    went to turn the mill    i'll do thy will    439 undue significance a starving man attaches to food    far off    he sighs    and therefore    hopeless    and therefore    good    partaken    it relieves    indeed    but proves us that spices fly in the receipt    it was the distance    was savory    440 'tis customary as we part a trinket    to confer    it helps to stimulate the faith when lovers be afar    'tis various    as the various taste    clematis    journeying far    presents me with a single curl of her electric hair    441 this is my letter to the world that never wrote to me    the simple news that nature told    with tender majesty her message is committed to hands i cannot see    for love of her    sweet    countrymen    judge tenderly    of me 442 god made a little gentian    it tried    to be a rose    and failed    and all the summer laughed    but just before the snows there rose a purple creature    that ravished all the hill    and summer hid her forehead    and mockery    was still    the frosts were her condition    the tyrian would not come until the north    invoke it    creator    shall i    bloom? 443 i tie my hat    i crease my shawl    life's little duties do    precisely    as the very least were infinite    to me    i put new blossoms in the glass    and throw the old    away    i push a petal from my gown that anchored there    i weigh the time 'twill be till six o'clock i have so much to do    and yet    existence    some way back    stopped    struck    my tickling    through    we cannot put ourself away as a completed man or woman    when the errand's done we came to flesh    upon    there may be    miles on miles of nought    of action    sicker far    to simulate    is stinging work    to cover what we are from science    and from surgery    too telescopic eyes to bear on us unshaded    for their    sake    not for ours    'twould start them    we    could tremble    but since we got a bomb    and held it in our bosom    nay    hold it    it is calm    therefore    we do life's labor    though life's reward    be done    with scrupulous exactness    to hold our senses    on    444 it feels a shame to be alive    when men so brave    are dead    one envies the distinguished dust    permitted    such a head    the stone    that tells defending whom this spartan put away what little of him we    possessed in pawn for liberty    the price is great    sublimely paid    do we deserve    a thing    that lives    like dollars    must be piled before we may obtain? are we that wait    sufficient worth    that such enormous pearl as life    dissolved be    for us    in battle's    horrid bowl? it may be    a renown to live    i think the man who die    those unsustained    saviors    present divinity    445 'twas just this time, last year, i died. i know i heard the corn, when i was carried by the farms    it had the tassels on    i thought how yellow it would look    when richard went to mill    and then, i wanted to get out, but something held my will. i thought just how red    apples wedged the stubble's joints between    and the carts stooping round the fields to take the pumpkins in    i wondered which would miss me, least, and when thanksgiving, came, if father'd multiply the plates    to make an even sum    and would it blur the christmas glee my stocking hang too high for any santa claus to reach the altitude of me    but this sort, grieved myself, and so, i thought the other way, how just this time, some perfect year    themself, should come to me    446 i showed her heights she never saw    "would'st climb," i said? she said    "not so"    "with me   " i said    with me? i showed her secrets    morning's nest    the rope the nights were put across    and now    "would'st have me for a guest?" she could not find her yes    and then, i brake my life    and lo, a light, for her, did solemn glow, the larger, as her face withdrew    and could she, further, "no"? 447 could    i do more    for thee    wert thou a bumble bee    since for the queen, have i    nought but bouquet? 448 this was a poet    it is that distills amazing sense from ordinary meanings    and attar so immense from the familiar species that perished by the door    we wonder it was not ourselves arrested it    before    of pictures, the discloser    the poet    it is he    entitles us    by contrast    to ceaseless poverty    of portion    so unconscious    the robbing    could not harm    himself    to him    a fortune    exterior    to time    449 i died for beauty    but was scarce adjusted in the tomb when one who died for truth, was lain in an adjoining room    he questioned softly "why i failed"? "for beauty", i replied    "and i    for truth    themself are one    we brethren, are", he said    and so, as kinsmen, met a night    we talked between the rooms    until the moss had reached our lips    and covered up    our names    450 dreams    are well    but waking's better, if one wake at morn    if one wake at midnight    better    dreaming    of the dawn    sweeter    the surmising robins    never gladdened tree    than a solid dawn    confronting    leading to no day    451 the outer    from the inner derives its magnitude    'tis duke, or dwarf, according as is the central mood    the fine    unvarying axis that regulates the wheel    though spokes    spin    more conspicuous and fling a dust    the while. the inner    paints the outer    the brush without the hand    its picture publishes    precise    as is the inner brand    on fine    arterial canvas    a cheek    perchance a brow    the star's whole secret    in the lake    eyes were not meant to know. 452 the malay    took the pearl    not    i    the earl    i    feared the sea    too much unsanctified    to touch    praying that i might be worthy    the destiny    the swarthy fellow swam    and bore my jewel    home    home to the hut! what lot had i    the jewel    got    borne on a dusky breasty    i had not deemed a vest of amber    fit    the negro never knew i    wooed it    too    to gain, or be undone    alike to him    one    453 love    thou art high    i cannot climb thee    but, were it two    who know but we    taking turns    at the chimborazo    ducal    at last    stand up by thee    love    thou are deep    i cannot cross thee    but, were there two instead of one    rower, and yacht    some sovereign summer    who knows    but we'd reach the sun? love    thou are veiled    a few    behold thee    smile    and alter    and prattle    and die    bliss    were an oddity    without thee    nicknamed by god    eternity    454 it was given to me by the gods    when i was a little girl    they given us presents most    you know    when we are new    and small. i kept it in my hand    i never put it down    i did not dare to eat    or sleep    for fear it would be gone    i heard such words as "rich"    when hurrying to school    from lips at corners of the streets    and wrestled with a smile. rich! 'twas myself    was rich    to take the name of gold    and gold to own    in solid bars    the difference    made me bold    455 triumph    may be of several kinds    there's triumph in the room when that old imperator    death    by faith 456 so well that i can live without    i love thee    then how well is that? as well as jesus? prove it me that he    loved men    as i    love thee    457 sweet    safe    houses    glad    gay    houses    sealed so stately tight    lids of steel    on lids of marble    locking bare feet out    brooks of plush    in banks of satin not so softly fall as the laughter    and the whisper    from their people pearl    no bald death    affront their parlors    no bold sickness come to deface their stately treasures    anguish    and the tomb    hum by    in muffled coaches    lest they    wonder why    any    for the press of smiling    interrupt    to die    458 like eyes that looked on wastes    incredulous of ought but blank    and steady wilderness    diversified by night    just infinites of nought    as far as it could see    so looked the face i looked upon    so looked itself    on me    i offered it no help    because the cause was mine    the misery a compact as hopeless    as divine    neither    would be absolved    neither would be a queen without the other    therefore    we perish    tho' we reign    459 a tooth upon our peace the peace cannot deface    then wherefore be the tooth? to vitalize the grace    the heaven hath a hell    itself to signalize    and every sign before the place is gilt with sacrifice    460 i know where wells grow    droughtless wells    deep dug    for summer days    where mosses go no more away    and pebble    safely plays    it's made of fathoms    and a belt    a belt of jagged stone    inlaid with emerald    half way down    and diamonds    jumbled on    it has no bucket    were i rich a bucket i would buy    i'm often thirsty    but my lips are so high up    you see    i read in an old fashioned book that people "thirst no more"    the wells have buckets to them there    it must mean that    i'm sure    shall we remember parching    then? those waters sound so grand    i think a little well    like mine    dearer to understand    461 a wife    at daybreak i shall be    sunrise    hast thou a flag for me? at midnight, i am but a maid, how short it takes to make a bride    then    midnight, i have passed from thee unto the east, and victory    midnight    good night! i hear them call, the angels bustle in the hall    softly my future climbs the stair, i fumble at my childhood's prayer so soon to be a child no more    eternity, i'm coming    sire, savior    i've seen the face    before! 462 why make it doubt    it hurts it so    so sick    to guess    so strong    to know    so brave    upon its little bed to tell the very last they said unto itself    and smile    and shake    for that dear    distant    dangerous    sake    but    the instead    the pinching fear that something    it did do    or dare    offend the vision    and it flee    and they no more remember me    nor ever turn to tell me why    oh, master, this is misery    463 i live with him    i see his face    i go no more away for visitor    or sundown    death's single privacy the only one    forestalling mine    and that    by right that he presents a claim invisible    no wedlock    granted me    i live with him    i hear his voice    i stand alive    today    to witness to the certainty of immortality    taught me    by time    the lower way    conviction    every day    that life like this    is stopless    be judgment    what it may    464 the power to be true to you, until upon my face the judgment push his picture    presumptuous of your place    of this    could man deprive me    himself    the heaven excel    whose invitation    yours reduced until it showed too small    465 i heard a fly buzz    when i died    the stillness in the room was like the stillness in the air    between the heaves of storm    the eyes around    had wrung them dry    and breaths were gathering firm for that last onset    when the king be witnessed    in the room    i willed my keepsakes    signed away what portion of me be assignable    and then it was there interposed a fly    with blue    uncertain stumbling buzz    between the light    and me    and then the windows failed    and then i could not see to see    466 'tis little i    could care for pearls    who own the ample sea    or brooches    when the emperor    with rubies    pelteth me    or gold    who am the prince of mines    or diamonds    when have i a diadem to fit a dom    continual upon me    467 we do not play on graves    because there isn't room    besides    it isn't even    it slants and people come    and put a flower on it    and hang their faces so    we're fearing that their hearts will drop    and crush our pretty play    and so we move as far as enemies    away    just looking round to see how far it is    occasionally    468 the manner of its death when certain it must die    'tis deemed a privilege to choose    'twas major andre's way    when choice of life    is past    there yet remains a love its little fate to stipulate    how small in those who live    the miracle to tease with bable of the styles    how "they are dying mostly    now"    and customs at "st. james"! 469 the red    blaze    is the morning    the violet    is noon    the yellow    day    is falling    and after that    is none    but miles of sparks    at evening    reveal the width that burned    the territory argent    that never yet    consumed    470 i am alive    i guess    the branches on my hand are full of morning glory    and at my finger's end    the carmine    tingles warm    and if i hold a glass across my mouth    it blurs it    physician's    proof of breath    i am alive    because i am not in a room    the parlor    commonly    it is    so visitors may come    and lean    and view it sidewise    and add "how cold    it grew"    and "was it conscious    when it stepped in immortality?" i am alive    because i do not own a house    entitled to myself    precise    and fitting no one else    and marked my girlhood's name    so visitors may know which door is mine    and not 471 a night    there lay the days between    the day that was before    and day that was behind    were one    and now    'twas night    was here    slow    night    that must be watched away    as grains upon a shore    too imperceptible to note    till it be night    no more    472 except the heaven had come so near    so seemed to choose my door    the distance would not haunt me so    i had not hoped    before    but just to hear the grace depart    i never thought to see    afflicts me with a double loss    'tis lost    and lost to me    473 i am ashamed    i hide    what right have i    to be a bride    so late a dowerless girl    nowhere to hide my dazzled face    no one to teach me that new grace    nor introduce    my soul    me to adorn    how    tell    trinket    to make me beautiful    fabrics of cashmere    never a gown of dun    more    raiment instead    of pompadour    for me    my soul    to wear    fingers    to frame my round hair oval    as feudal ladies wore    far fashions    fair    skill to hold my brow like an earl    plead    like a whippoorwill    prove    like a pearl    then, for character    fashion my spirit quaint    white    quick    like a liquor    gay    like light    bring me my best pride    no more ashamed    no more to hide    meek    let it be    too proud    for pride    baptized    this day    a bride    474 they put us far apart    as separate as sea and her unsown peninsula    we signified "these see"    they took away our eyes    they thwarted us with guns    "i see thee" each responded straight through telegraphic signs    with dungeons    they devised    but through their thickest skill    and their opaquest adamant    our souls saw    just as well    they summoned us to die    with sweet alacrity we stood upon our stapled feet    condemned    but just    to see    permission to recant    permission to forget    we turned our backs upon the sun for perjury of that    not either    noticed death    of paradise    aware    each other's face    was all the disc each other's setting    saw    475 doom is the house without the door    'tis entered from the sun    and then the ladder's thrown away, because escape    is done    'tis varied by the dream of what they do outside    where squirrels play    and berries die    and hemlocks    bow    to god    476 i meant to have but modest needs    such as content    and heaven    within my income    these could lie and life and i    keep even    but since the last    included both    it would suffice my prayer but just for one    to stipulate    and grace would grant the pair    and so    upon this wise    i prayed    great spirit    give to me a heaven not so large as yours, but large enough    for me    a smile suffused jehovah's face    the cherubim    withdrew    grave saints stole out to look at me    and showed their dimples    too    i left the place, with all my might    i threw my prayer away    the quiet ages picked it up    and judgment    twinkled    too    tat one so honest    be extant    it take the tale for true    that "whatsoever ye shall ask    itself be given you"    but i, grown shrewder    scan the skies with a suspicious air    as children    swindled for the first all swindlers    be    infer    477 no man can compass a despair    as round a goalless road no faster than a mile at once the traveller proceed    unconscious of the width    unconscious that the sun be setting on his progress    so accurate the one at estimating pain    whose own    has just begun    his ignorance    the angel that pilot him along    478 i had no time to hate    because the grave would hinder me    and life was not so ample i could finish    enmity    nor had i time to love    but since some industry must be    the little toil of love    i thought be large enough for me    479 she dealt her pretty words like blades    how glittering they shone    and every one unbared a nerve or wantoned with a bone    she never deemed    she hurt    that    is not steel's affair    a vulgar grimace in the flesh    how ill the creatures bear    to ache is human    not polite    the film upon the eye mortality's old custom    just locking up    to die. 480 "why do i love" you, sir? because    the wind does not require the grass to answer    wherefore when he pass she cannot keep her place. because he knows    and do not you    and we know not    enough for us the wisdom it be so    the lightning    never asked an eye wherefore it shut    when he was by    because he knows it cannot speak    and reasons not contained       of talk    there be    preferred by daintier folk    the sunrise    sire    compelleth me    because he's sunrise    and i see    therefore    then    i love thee    481 the himmaleh was known to stoop unto the daisy low    transported with compassion that such a doll should grow where tent by tent    her universe hung out its flags of snow    482 we cover thee    sweet face    not that we tire of thee    but that thyself fatigue of us    remember    as thou go    we follow thee until thou notice us    no more    and then    reluctant    turn away to con thee o'er and o'er    and blame the scanty love we were content to show    augmented    sweet    a hundred fold    if thou would'st take it    now    483 a solemn thing within the soul to feel itself get ripe    and golden hang    while farther up    the maker's ladders stop    and in the orchard far below    you hear a being    drop    a wonderful    to feel the sun still toiling at the cheek you thought was finished    cool of eye, and critical of work    he shifts the stem    a little    to give your core    a look    but solemnest    to know your chance in harvest moves a little nearer    every sun the single    to some lives. 484 my garden    like the beach    denotes there be    a sea    that's summer    such as these    the pearls she fetches    such as me 485 to make one's toilette    after death has made the toilette cool of only taste we cared to please is difficult, and still    that's easier    than braid the hair    and make the bodice gay    when eyes that fondled it are wrenched by decalogues    away    486 i was the slightest in the house    i took the smallest room    at night, my little lamp, and book    and one geranium    so stationed i could catch the mint that never ceased to fall    and just my basket    let me think    i'm sure    that this was all    i never spoke    unless addressed    and then, 'twas brief and low    i could not bear to live    aloud    the racket shamed me so    and if it had not been so far    and any one i knew were going    i had often thought how noteless    i could die    487 you love the lord    you cannot see    you write him    every day    a little note    when you awake    and further in the day. an ample letter    how you miss    and would delight to see    but then his house    is but a step    and mine's    in heaven    you see. 488 myself was formed    a carpenter    an unpretending time my plane    and i, together wrought before a builder came    to measure our attainments    had we the art of boards sufficiently developed    he'd hire us at halves    my tools took human    faces    the bench, where we had toiled    against the man    persuaded    we    temples build    i said    489 we pray    to heaven    we prate    of heaven    relate    when neighbors die    at what o'clock to heaven    they fled    who saw them    wherefore fly? is heaven a place    a sky    a tree? location's narrow way is for ourselves    unto the dead there's no geography    but state    endowal    focus    where    omnipresence    fly? 490 to one denied the drink to tell what water is would be acuter, would it not than letting him surmise? to lead him to the well and let him hear it drip remind him, would it not, somewhat of his condemned lip? 491 while it is alive until death touches it while it and i lap one air dwell in one blood under one sacrament show me division can split or pare    love is like life    merely longer love is like death, during the grave love is the fellow of the resurrection scooping up the dust and chanting "live"! 492 civilization    spurns    the leopard! was the leopard    bold? deserts    never rebuked her satin    ethiop    her gold    tawny    her customs    she was conscious    spotted    her dun gown    this was the leopard's nature    signor    need    a keeper    frown? pity    the pard    that left her asia    memories    of palm    cannot be stifled    with narcotic    nor suppressed    with balm    493 the world    stands    solemner    to me    since i was wed    to him    a modesty befits the soul that bears another's    name    a doubt    if it be fair    indeed    to wear that perfect    pearl    the man    upon the woman    binds    to clasp her soul    for all    a prayer, that it more angel    prove    a whiter gift    within    to that munificence, that chose    so unadorned    a queen    a gratitude    that such be true    it had esteemed the dream    too beautiful    for shape to prove    or posture    to redeem! 494 going to him! happy letter! tell him    tell him the page i didn't write    tell him    i only said the syntax    and left the verb and the pronoun out    tell him just how the fingers hurried    then    how they waded    slow    slow    and then you wished you had eyes in your pages    so you could see what moved them so    tell him    it wasn't a practised writer    you guessed    from the way the sentence toiled    you could hear the bodice tug, behind you    as if it held but the might of a child    you almost pitied it    you    it worked so    tell him    no    you may quibble there    for it would split his heart, to know it    and then you and i, were silenter. tell him    night finished    before we finished    and the old clock kept neighing "day"! and you    got sleepy    and begged to be ended    what could it hinder so    to say? tell him    just how she sealed you    cautious! but    if he ask where you are hid until tomorrow    happy letter! gesture coquette    and shake your head! 495 it's thoughts    and just one heart    and old sunshine    about    make frugal    ones    content    and two or three    for company    upon a holiday    crowded    as sacrament    books    when the unit    spare the tenant    long eno'    a picture    if it care    itself    a gallery too rare    for needing more    flowers    to keep the eyes    from going awkward    when it snows    a bird    if they    prefer    though winter fire    sing clear as plover    to our    ear    a landscape    not so great to suffocate the eye    a hill    perhaps    perhaps    the profile of a mill turned by the wind    tho' such    are luxuries    it's thoughts    and just two heart    and heaven    about    at least    a counterfeit    we would not have correct    and immortality    can be almost    not quite    content    496 as far from pity, as complaint    as cool to speech    as stone    as numb to revelation as if my trade were bone    as far from time    as history    as near yourself    today    as children, to the rainbow's scarf    or sunset's yellow play to eyelids in the sepulchre    how dumb the dancer lies    while color's revelations break    and blaze    the butterflies! 497 he strained my faith    did he find it supple? shook my strong trust    did it then    yield? hurled my belief    but    did he shatter    it? racked    with suspense    not a nerve failed! wrung me    with anguish    but i never doubted him    'tho' for what wrong he did never say    stabbed    while i sued his sweet forgiveness    jesus    it's your little "john"! don't you know    me? 498 i envy seas, whereon he rides    i envy spokes of wheels of chariots, that him convey    i envy crooked hills that gaze upon his journey    how easy all can see what is forbidden utterly as heaven    unto me! i envy nests of sparrows    that dot his distant eaves    the wealthy fly, upon his pane    the happy    happy leaves    that just abroad his window have summer's leave to play    the ear rings of pizarro could not obtain for me    i envy light    that wakes him    and bells    that boldly ring to tell him it is noon, abroad    myself    be noon to him    yet interdict    my blossom    and abrogate    my bee    lest noon in everlasting night    drop gabriel    and me    499 those fair    fictitious people    the women    plucked away from our familiar lifetime    the men of ivory    those boys and girls, in canvas    who stay upon the wall in everlasting keepsake    can anybody tell? we trust    in places perfecter    inheriting delight beyond our faint conjecture    our dizzy estimate    remembering ourselves, we trust    yet blesseder    than we    through knowing    where we only hope    receiving    where we    pray    of expectation    also    anticipating us with transport, that would be a pain except for holiness    esteeming us    as exile    themself    admitted home    through easy miracle of death    the way ourself, must come    500 within my garden, rides a bird upon a single wheel    whose spokes a dizzy music make as 'twere a travelling mill    he never stops, but slackens above the ripest rose    partakes without alighting and praises as he goes, till every spice is tasted    and then his fairy gig reels in remoter atmospheres    and i rejoin my dog, and he and i, perplex us if positive, 'twere we    or bore the garden in the brain this curiosity    but he, the best logician, refers my clumsy eye    to just vibrating blossoms! an exquisite reply! 501 this world is not conclusion. a species stands beyond    invisible, as music    but positive, as sound    it beckons, and it baffles    philosophy    don't know    and through a riddle, at the last    sagacity, must go    to guess it, puzzles scholars    to gain it, men have borne contempt of generations and crucifixion, shown    faith slips    and laughs, and rallies    blushes, if any see    plucks at a twig of evidence    and asks a vane, the way    much gesture, from the pulpit    strong hallelujahs roll    narcotics cannot still the tooth that nibbles at the soul    502 at least    to pray    is left    is left    oh jesus    in the air    i know not which thy chamber is    i'm knocking    everywhere    thou settest earthquake in the south    and maelstrom, in the sea    say, jesus christ of nazareth    hast thou no arm for me? 503 better    than music! for i    who heard it    i was used    to the birds    before    this    was different    'twas translation    of all tunes i knew    and more    'twasn't contained    like other stanza    no one could play it    the second time    but the composer    perfect mozart    perish with him    that keyless rhyme! so    children    told how brooks in eden    bubbled a better    melody    quaintly infer    eve's great surrender    urging the feet    that would    not    fly    children    matured    are wiser    mostly    eden    a legend    dimly told    eve    and the anguish    grandame's story    but    i was telling a tune    i heard    not such a strain    the church    baptizes    when the last saint    goes up the aisles    not such a stanza splits the silence    when the redemption strikes her bells    let me not spill    its smallest cadence    humming    for promise    when alone    humming    until my faint rehearsal    drop into tune    around the throne    504 you know that portrait in the moon    so tell me who 'tis like    the very brow    the stooping eyes    a fog for    say    whose sake? the very pattern of the cheek    it varies    in the chin    but    ishmael    since we met    'tis long    and fashions    intervene    when moon's at full    'tis thou    i say    my lips just hold the name    when crescent    thou art worn    i note    but    there    the golden same    and when    some night    bold    slashing clouds cut thee away from me    that's easier    than the other film that glazes holiday    505 i would not paint    a picture    i'd rather be the one its bright impossibility to dwell    delicious    on    and wonder how the fingers feel whose rare    celestial    stir    evokes so sweet a torment    such sumptuous    despair    i would not talk, like cornets    i'd rather be the one raised softly to the ceilings    and out, and easy on    through villages of ether    myself endued balloon by but a lip of metal    the pier to my pontoon    nor would i be a poet    it's finer    own the ear    enamored    impotent    content    the license to revere, a privilege so awful what would the dower be, had i the art to stun myself with bolts of melody! 506 he touched me, so i live to know that such a day, permitted so, i groped upon his breast    it was a boundless place to me and silenced, as the awful sea puts minor streams to rest. and now, i'm different from before, as if i breathed superior air    or brushed a royal gown    my feet, too, that had wandered so    my gypsy face    transfigured now    to tenderer renown    into this port, if i might come, rebecca, to jerusalem, would not so ravished turn    nor persian, baffled at her shrine lift such a crucifixial sign to her imperial sun. 507 she sights a bird    she chuckles    she flattens    then she crawls    she runs without the look of feet    her eyes increase to balls    her jaws stir    twitching    hungry    her teeth can hardly stand    she leaps, but robin leaped the first    ah, pussy, of the sand, the hopes so juicy ripening    you almost bather your tongue    when bliss disclosed a hundred toes    and fled with every one    508 i'm ceded    i've stopped being theirs    the name they dropped upon my face with water, in the country church is finished using, now, and they can put it with my dolls, my childhood, and the string of spools, i've finished threading    too    baptized, before, without the choice, but this time, consciously, of grace    unto supremest name    called to my full    the crescent dropped    existence's whole arc, filled up, with one small diadem. my second rank    too small the first    crowned    crowing    on my father's breast    a half unconscious queen    but this time    adequate    erect, with will to choose, or to reject, and i choose, just a crown    509 if anybody's friend be dead it's sharpest of the theme the thinking how they walked alive    at such and such a time    their costume, of a sunday, some manner of the hair    a prank nobody knew but them lost, in the sepulchre    how warm, they were, on such a day, you almost feel the date    so short way off it seems    and now    they're centuries from that    how pleased they were, at what you said    you try to touch the smile and dip your fingers in the frost    when was it    can you tell    you asked the company to tea    acquaintance    just a few    and chatted close with this grand thing that don't remember you    past bows, and invitations    past interview, and vow    past what ourself can estimate    that    makes the quick of woe! 510 it was not death, for i stood up, and all the dead, lie down    it was not night, for all the bells put out their tongues, for noon. it was not frost, for on my flesh i felt siroccos    crawl    nor fire    for just my marble feet could keep a chancel, cool    and yet, it tasted, like them all, the figures i have seen set orderly, for burial, reminded me, of mine    as if my life were shaven, and fitted to a frame, and could not breathe without a key, and 'twas like midnight, some   when everything that ticked    has stopped    and space stares all around    or grisly frosts    first autumn morns, repeal the beating ground    but, most, like chaos   stopless    cool    without a change, or spar    or even a report of land    to justify    despair. 511 if you were coming in the fall, i'd brush the summer by with half a smile, and half a spurn, as housewives do, a fly. if i could see you in a year, i'd wind the months in balls    and put them each in separate drawers, for fear the numbers fuse    if only centuries, delayed, i'd count them on my hand, subtracting, till my fingers dropped into van dieman's land. if certain, when this life was out    that yours and mine, should be i'd toss it yonder, like a rind, and take eternity    but, now, uncertain of the length of this, that is between, it goads me, like the goblin bee    that will not state    its sting. 512 the soul has bandaged moments    when too appalled to stir    she feels some ghastly fright come up and stop to look at her    salute her    with long fingers    caress her freezing hair    sip, goblin, from the very lips the lover    hovered    o'er    unworthy, that a thought so mean accost a theme    so    fair    the soul has moments of escape    when bursting all the doors    she dances like a bomb, abroad, and swings upon the hours, as do the bee    delirious borne    long dungeoned from his rose    touch liberty    then know no more, but noon, and paradise    the soul's retaken moments    when, felon led along, with shackles on the plumed feet, and staples, in the song, the horror welcomes her, again, these, are not brayed of tongue    513 like flowers, that heard the news of dews, but never deemed the dripping prize awaited their    low brows    or bees    that thought the summer's name some rumor of delirium, no summer    could    for them    or arctic creatures, dimly stirred    by tropic hint    some travelled bird imported to the wood    or wind's bright signal to the ear    making that homely, and severe, contented, known, before    the heaven    unexpected come, to lives that thought the worshipping a too presumptuous psalm    514 her smile was shaped like other smiles    the dimples ran along    and still it hurt you, as some bird did hoist herself, to sing, then recollect a ball, she got    and hold upon the twig, convulsive, while the music broke    like beads    among the bog    515 no crowd that has occurred exhibit    i suppose that general attendance that resurrection    does    circumference be full    the long restricted grave assert her vital privilege    the dust    connect    and live    on atoms    features place    all multitudes that were efface in the comparison    as suns    dissolve a star    solemnity    prevail    its individual doom possess each separate consciousness    august    absorbed    numb    what duplicate    exist    what parallel can be    of the significance of this    to universe    and me? 516 beauty    be not caused    it is    chase it, and it ceases    chase it not, and it abides    overtake the creases in the meadow    when the wind runs his fingers thro' it    deity will see to it that you never do it    517 he parts himself    like leaves    and then    he closes up    then stands upon the bonnet of any buttercup    and then he runs against and oversets a rose    and then does nothing    then away upon a jib    he goes    and dangles like a mote suspended in the noon    uncertain    to return below    or settle in the moon    what come of him    at night    the privilege to say be limited by ignorance    what come of him    that day    the frost    possess the world    in cabinets    be shown    a sepulchre of quaintest floss    an abbey    a cocoon    518 her sweet weight on my heart a night had scarcely deigned to lie    when, stirring, for belief's delight, my bride had slipped away    if 'twas a dream    made solid    just the heaven to confirm    or if myself were dreamed of her    the power to presume    with him remain    who unto me    gave    even as to all    a fiction superseding faith    by so much    as 'twas real    519 'twas warm    at first    like us    until there crept upon a chill    like frost upon a glass    till all the scene    be gone. the forehead copied stone    the fingers grew too cold to ache    and like a skater's brook    the busy eyes    congealed    it straightened    that was all    it crowded cold to cold    it multiplied indifference    as pride were all it could    and even when with cords    'twas lowered, like a weight    it made no signal, nor demurred, but dropped like adamant. 520 i started early    took my dog    and visited the sea    the mermaids in the basement came out to look at me    and frigates    in the upper floor extended hempen hands    presuming me to be a mouse    aground    upon the sands    but no man moved me    till the tide went past my simple shoe    and past my apron    and my belt    and past my bodice    too    and made as he would eat me up    as wholly as a dew upon a dandelion's sleeve    and then    i started    too    and he    he followed    close behind    i felt his silver heel upon my ankle    then my shoes would overflow with pearl    until we met the solid town    no one he seemed to know    and bowing    with a might look    at me    the sea withdrew    521 endow the living    with the tears    you squander on the dead, and they were men and women    now, around your fireside    instead of passive creatures, denied the cherishing till they    the cherishing deny    with death's ethereal scron    522 had i presumed to hope    the loss had been to me a value    for the greatness' sake    as giants    gone away    had i presumed to gain a favor so remote    the failure but confirm the grace in further infinite    'tis failure    not of hope    but confident despair    advancing on celestial lists    with faint    terrestial power    'tis honor    though i die    for that no man obtain till he be justified by death    this    is the second gain    523 sweet    you forgot    but i remembered every time    for two    so that the sum be never hindered through decay of you    say if i erred? accuse my farthings    blame the little hand happy it be for you    a beggar's    seeking more    to spend    just to be rich    to waste my guineas on so best a heart    just to be poor    for barefoot vision you    sweet    shut me out    524 departed    to the judgment    a mighty afternoon    great clouds    like ushers    learning    creation    looking on    the flesh    surrendered    cancelled    the bodiless    begun    two worlds    like audiences    disperse    and leave the soul    alone    525 i think the hemlock likes to stand upon a marge of snow    it suits his own austerity    and satisfies an awe that men, must slake in wilderness    and in the desert    cloy    an instinct for the hoar, the bald    lapland's    necessity    the hemlock's nature thrives    on cold    the gnash of northern winds is sweetest nutriment    to him    his best norwegian wines    to satin races    he is nought    but children on the don, beneath his tabernacles, play, and dnieper wrestlers, run. 526 to hear an oriole sing may be a common thing    or only a divine. it is not of the bird who sings the same, unheard, as unto crowd    the fashion of the ear attireth that it hear in dun, or fair    so whether it be rune, or whether it be none is of within. the "tune is in the tree   " the skeptic    showeth me    "no sir! in thee!" 527 to put this world down, like a bundle    and walk steady, away, requires energy    possibly agony    'tis the scarlet way trodden with straight renunciation by the son of god    later, his faint confederates justify the road    flavors of that old crucifixion    filaments of bloom, pontius pilate sowed    strong clusters, from barabbas' tomb    sacrament, saints partook before us    patent, every drop, with the brand of the gentile drinker who indorsed the cup    528 mine    by the right of the white election! mine    by the royal seal! mine    by the sign in the scarlet prison    bars    cannot conceal! mine    here    in vision    and in veto! mine    by the grave's repeal    tilted    confirmed    delirious charter! mine    long as ages steal! 529 i'm sorry for the dead    today    it's such congenial times old neighbors have at fences    it's time o' year for hay. and broad    sunburned acquaintance discourse between the toil    and laugh, a homely species that makes the fences smile    it seems so straight to lie away from all of the noise of fields    the busy carts    the fragrant cocks    the mower's metre    steals    a trouble lest they're homesick    those farmers    and their wives    set separate from the farming    and all the neighbors' lives    a wonder if the sepulchre don't feel a lonesome way    when men    and boys    and carts    and june, go down the fields to "hay"    530 you cannot put a fire out    a thing that can ignite can go, itself, without a fan    upon the slowest night    you cannot fold a flood    and put it in a drawer    because the winds would find it out    and tell your cedar floor    531 we dream    it is good we are dreaming    it would hurt us    were we awake    but since it is playing    kill us, and we are playing    shriek    what harm? men die    externally    it is a truth    of blood    but we    are dying in drama    and drama    is never dead    cautious    we jar each other    and either    open the eyes    lest the phantasm    prove the mistake    and the livid surprise cool us to shafts of granite    with just an age    and name    and perhaps a phrase in egyptian    it's prudenter    to dream    532 i tried to think a lonelier thing than any i had seen    some polar expiation    an omen in the bone of death's tremendous nearness    i probed retrieverless things my duplicate    to borrow    a haggard comfort springs from the belief that somewhere    within the clutch of thought    there dwells one other creature of heavenly love    forgot    i plucked at our partition as one should pry the walls    between himself    and horror's twin    within opposing cells    i almost strove to clasp his hand, such luxury    it grew    that as myself    could pity him    perhaps he    pitied me    533 two butterflies went out at noon    and waltzed upon a farm    then stepped straight through the firmament and rested, on a beam    and then    together bore away upon a shining sea    though never yet, in any port    their coming, mentioned    be    if spoken by the distant bird    if met in ether sea by frigate, or by merchantman    no notice    was    to me    534 we see    comparatively    the thing so towering high we could not grasp its segment unaided    yesterday    this morning's finer verdict    makes scarcely worth the toil    a furrow    our cordillera    our apennine    a knoll    perhaps 'tis kindly    done us    the anguish    and the loss    the wrenching    for his firmament the thing belonged to us    to spare these striding spirits some morning of chagrin    the waking in a gnat's    embrace    our giants    further on    535 she's happy, with a new content    that feels to her    like sacrament    she's busy    with an altered care    as just apprenticed to the air    she's tearful    if she weep at all    for blissful causes    most of all that heaven permit so meek as her    to such a fate    to minister. 536 the heart asks pleasure    first    and then    excuse from pain    and then    those little anodyness that deaden suffering    and then    to go to sleep    and then    if it should be the will of its inquisitor the privilege to die    537 me prove it now    whoever doubt me stop to prove it    now    make haste    the scruple! death be scant for opportunity    the river reaches to my feet    as yet    my heart be dry    oh lover    life could not convince    might death    enable thee    the river reaches to my breast    still    still    my hands above proclaim with their remaining might    dost recognize the love? the river reaches to my mouth    remember    when the sea swept by my searching eyes    the last    themselves were quick    with thee! 538 'tis true    they shut me in the cold    but then    themselves were warm and could not know the feeling 'twas    forget it    lord    of them    let not my witness hinder them in heavenly esteem    no paradise could be    conferred through their beloved blame    the harm they did    was short    and since myself    who bore it    do    forgive them    even as myself    or else    forgive not me    539 the province of the saved should be the art    to save    through skill obtained in themselves    the science of the grave no man can understand but he that hath endured the dissolution    in himself    that man    be qualified to qualify despair to those who failing new    mistake defeat for death    each time    till acclimated    to    540 i took my power in my hand    and went against the world    'twas not so much as david    had    but i    was twice as bold    i aimed by pebble    but myself was all the one that fell    was it goliath    was too large    or was myself    too small? 541 some such butterfly be seen on brazilian pampas    just at noon    no later    sweet    then    the license closes    some such spice    express and pass    subject to your plucking    as the stars    you knew last night    foreigners    this morning    542 i had no cause to be awake    my best    was gone to sleep    and morn a new politeness took    and failed to wake them up    but called the others    clear    and passed their curtains by    sweet morning    when i oversleep    knock    recollect    to me    i looked at sunrise    once    and then i looked at them    and wishfulness in me arose    for circumstance the same    'twas such an ample peace    it could not hold a sigh    'twas sabbath    with the bells divorced    'twas sunset    all the day    so choosing but a gown    and taking but a prayer    the only raiment i should need    i struggled    and was there    543 i fear a man of frugal speech    i fear a silent man    haranguer    i can overtake    or babbler    entertain    but he who weigheth    while the rest    expend their furthest pound    of this man    i am wary    i fear that he is grand    544 the martyr poets    did not tell    but wrought their pang in syllable    that when their mortal name be numb    their mortal fate    encourage some    the martyr painters    never spoke    bequeathing    rather    to their work    that when their conscious fingers cease    some seek in art    the art of peace    545 'tis one by one    the father counts    and then a tract between set cypherless    to teach the eye the value of its ten    until the peevish student acquire the quick of skill    then numerals are dowered back    adorning all the rule    'tis mostly slate and pencil    and darkness on the school distracts the children's fingers    still the eternal rule regards least cypherer alike with leader of the band    and every separate urchin's sum    is fashioned for his hand    546 to fill a gap insert the thing that caused it    block it up with other    and 'twill yawn the more    you cannot solder an abyss with air. 547 i've seen a dying eye run round and round a room    in search of something    as it seemed    then cloudier become    and then    obscure with fog    and then    be soldered down without disclosing what it be 'twere blessed to have seen    548 death is potential to that man who dies    and to his friend    beyond that    unconspicuous to anyone but god    of these two    god remembers the longest    for the friend    is integral    and therefore itself dissolved    of god    549 that i did always love i bring thee proof that till i loved i never lived    enough    that i shall love alway    i argue thee that love is life    and life hath immortality    this    dost thou doubt    sweet    then have i nothing to show but calvary    550 i cross till i am weary a mountain    in my mind    more mountains    then a sea    more seas    and then a desert    find    and my horizon blocks with steady    drifting    grains of unconjectured quantity    as asiatic rains    nor this    defeat my pace    it hinder from the west but as an enemy's salute one hurrying to rest    what merit had the goal    except there intervene faint doubt    and far competitor    to jeopardize the gain? at last    the grace in sight    i shout unto my feet    i offer them the whole of heaven the instant that we meet    they strive    and yet delay    they perish    do we die    or is this death's experiment    reversed    in victory? 551 there is a shame of nobleness    confronting sudden pelf    a finer shame of ecstasy    convicted of itself    a best disgrace    a brave man feels    acknowledged    of the brave    one more    "ye blessed"    to be told    but that's    behind the grave    552 an ignorance a sunset confer upon the eye    of territory    color    circumference    decay    its amber revelation exhilirate    debase    omnipotence' inspection of our inferior face    and when the solemn features confirm    in victory    we start    as if detected in immortality    553 one crucifixion is recorded    only    how many be is not affirmed of mathematics    or history    one calvary    exhibited to stranger    as many be as persons    or peninsulas    gethsemane    is but a province    in the being's centre    judea    for journey    or crusade's achieving    too near    our lord    indeed    made compound witness    and yet    there's newer    nearer crucifixion than that    554 the black berry    wears a thorn in his side    but no man heard him cry    he offers his berry, just the same to partridge    and to boy    he sometimes holds upon the fence    or struggles to a tree    or clasps a rock, with both his hands    but not for sympathy    we    tell a hurt    to cool it    this mourner    to the sky a little further reaches    instead    brave black berry    555 trust in the unexpected    by this    was william kidd persuaded of the buried gold    as one had testified    through this    the old philosopher    his talismanic stone discerned    still withholden to effort undivine    'twas this    allured columbus    when genoa    withdrew before an apparition baptized america    the same    afflicted thomas    when deity assured 'twas better    the perceiving not    provided it believed    556 the brain, within its groove runs evenly    and true    but let a splinter swerve    'twere easier for you    to put a current back    when floods have slit the hills    and scooped a turnpike for themselves    and trodden out the mills    557 she hideth her the last    and is the first, to rise    her night doth hardly recompense the closing of her eyes    she doth her purple work    and putteth her away in low apartments in the sod   as worthily as we. to imitate her life as impotent would be as make of our imperfect mints, the julep    of the bee    558 but little carmine hath her face    of emerald scant    her gown    her beauty    is the love she doth    itself    exhibit    mine    559 it knew no medicine    it was not sickness    then    nor any need of surgery    and therefore    'twas not pain    it moved away the cheeks    a dimple at a time    and left the profile    plainer    and in the place of bloom it left the little tint that never had a name    you've seen it on a cast's face    was paradise    to blame    if momently ajar    temerity    drew near    and sickened    ever afterward for somewhat that it saw? 560 it knew no lapse, nor diminuation    but large    serene    burned on    until through dissolution    it failed from men    i could not deem these planetary forces annulled    but suffered an exchange of territory    or world    561 i measure every grief i meet with narrow, probing, eyes    i wonder if it weighs like mine    or has an easier size. i wonder if they bore it long    or did it just begin    i could not tell the date of mine    it feels so old a pain    i wonder if it hurts to live    and if they have to try    and whether    could they choose between    it would not be    to die    i note that some    gone patient long    at length, renew their smile    an imitation of a light that has so little oil    i wonder if when years have piled    some thousands    on the harm    that hurt them early    such a lapse could give them any balm    or would they go on aching still through centuries of nerve    enlightened to a larger pain   in contrast with the love    the grieved    are many    i am told    there is the various cause    death    is but one    and comes but once    and only nails the eyes    there's grief of want    and grief of cold    a sort they call "despair"    there's banishment from native eyes    in sight of native air    and though i may not guess the kind    correctly    yet to me a piercing comfort it affords in passing calvary    to note the fashions    of the cross    and how they're mostly worn    still fascinated to presume that some    are like my own    562 conjecturing a climate of unsuspended suns    adds poignancy to winter    the shivering fancy turns to a fictitious country to palliate a cold    not obviated of degree    nor erased    of latitude    563 i could not prove the years had feet    yet confident they run am i, from symptoms that are past and series that are done    i find my feet have further goals    i smile upon the aims that felt so ample    yesterday    today's    have vaster claims    i do not doubt the self i was was competent to me    but something awkward in the fit    proves that    outgrown    i see    564 my period had come for prayer    no other art    would do    my tactics missed a rudiment    creator    was it you? god grows above    so those who pray horizons    must ascend    and so i stepped upon the north to see this curious friend    his house was not    no sign had he    by chimney    nor by door could i infer his residence    vast prairies of air unbroken by a settler    were all that i could see    infinitude    had'st thou no face that i might look on thee? the silence condescended    creation stopped    for me    but awed beyond my errand    i worshipped    did not "pray"    565 one anguish    in a crowd    a minor thing    it sounds    and yet, unto the single doe attempted of the hounds 'tis terror as consummate as legions of alarm did leap, full flanked, upon the host    'tis units    make the swarm    a small leech    on the vitals    the sliver, in the lung    the bung out    of an artery    are scarce accounted    harms    yet might    by relation to that repealless thing    a being    impotent to end    when once it has begun    566 a dying tiger    moaned for drink    i hunted all the sand    i caught the dripping of a rock and bore it in my hand    his mighty balls    in death were thick    but searching    i could see a vision on the retina of water    and of me    'twas not my blame    who sped too slow    'twas not his blame    who died while i was reaching him    but 'twas    the fact that he was dead    567 he gave away his life    to us    gigantic sum    a trifle    in his own esteem    but magnified    by fame    until it burst the hearts that fancied they could hold    when swift it slipped its limit    and on the heavens    unrolled    'tis ours    to wince    and weep    and wonder    and decay by blossoms gradual process    he chose    maturity    and quickening    as we sowed    just obviated bud    and when we turned to note the growth    broke    perfect    from the pod    568 we learned the whole of love    the alphabet    the words    a chapter    then the mighty book    then    revelation closed    but in each other's eyes an ignorance beheld    diviner than the childhood's    and each to each, a child    attempted to expound what neither    understood    alas, that wisdom is so large    and truth    so manifold! 569 i reckon    when i count it all    first    poets    then the sun    then summer    then the heaven of god    and then    the list is done    but, looking back    the first so seems to comprehend the whole    the others look a needless show    so i write    poets    all    their summer    lasts a solid year    they can afford a sun the east    would deem extravagant    and if the further heaven    be beautiful as they prepare for those who worship them    it is too difficult a grace    to justify the dream    570 i could die    to know    'tis a trifling knowledge    news boys salute the door    carts    joggle by    morning's bold face    stares in the window    were but mine    the charter of the least fly    houses hunch the house with their brick shoulders    coals    from a rolling load    rattle    how    near    to the very square    his foot is passing    possibly, this moment    while i    dream    here    571 must be a woe    a loss or so    to bend the eye best beauty's way    but    once aslant it notes delight as difficult as stalactite a common bliss were had for less    the price    is even as the grace    our lord    thought no extravagance to pay    a cross    572 delight    becomes pictorial    when viewed through pain    more fair    because impossible than any gain    the mountain    at a given distance    in amber    lies    approached    the amber flits    a little    and that's    the skies    573 the test of love    is death    our lord    "so loved"    it saith    what largest lover    hath another    doth    if smaller patience    be    through less infinity    if bravo, sometimes swerve    through fainter nerve    accept its most    and overlook    the dust    last    least    the cross'    request    574 my first well day    since many ill    i asked to go abroad, and take the sunshine in my hands, and see the things in pod    a 'blossom just when i went in to take my chance with pain    uncertain if myself, or he, should prove the strongest one. the summer deepened, while we strove    she put some flowers away    and redder cheeked ones    in their stead    a fond    illusive way    to cheat herself, it seemed she tried    as if before a child to fade    tomorrow    rainbows held the sepulchre, could hide. she dealt a fashion to the nut    she tied the hoods to seeds    she dropped bright scraps of tint, about    and left brazilian threads on every shoulder that she met    then both her hands of haze put up    to hide her parting grace from our unfitted eyes. my loss, by sickness    was it loss? or that ethereal gain one earns by measuring the grave    then    measuring the sun    575 "heaven" has different signs    to me    sometimes, i think that noon is but a symbol of the place    and when again, at dawn, a mighty look runs round the world and settles in the hills    an awe if it should be like that upon the ignorance steals    the orchard, when the sun is on    the triumph of the birds when they together victory make    some carnivals of clouds    the rapture of a finished day    returning to the west    all these    remind us of the place that men call "paradise"    itself be fairer    we suppose    but how ourself, shall be adorned, for a superior grace    not yet, our eyes can see    576 i prayed, at first, a little girl, because they told me to    but stopped, when qualified to guess how prayer would feel    to me    if i believed god looked around, each time my childish eye fixed full, and steady, on his own in childish honesty    and told him what i'd like, today, and parts of his far plan that baffled me    the mingled side of his divinity    and often since, in danger, i count the force 'twould be to have a god so strong as that to hold my life for me till i could take the balance that tips so frequent, now, it takes me all the while to poise    and then    it doesn't stay    577 if i may have it, when it's dead, i'll be contented    so    if just as soon as breath is out it shall belong to me    until they lock it in the grave, 'tis bliss i cannot weigh    for tho' they lock thee in the grave, myself    can own the key    think of it lover! i and thee permitted    face to face to be    after a life    a death    we'll say    for death was that    and this    is thee    i'll tell thee all    how bald it grew    how midnight felt, at first    to me    how all the clocks stopped in the world    and sunshine pinched me    'twas so cold    then how the grief got sleepy    some    as if my soul were deaf and dumb    just making signs    across    to thee    that this way    thou could'st notice me    i'll tell you how i tried to keep a smile, to show you, when this deep all waded    we look back for play, at those old times    in calvary, forgive me, if the grave come slow    for coveting to look at thee    forgive me, if to stroke thy frost outvisions paradise! 578 the body grows without    the more convenient way    that if the spirit    like to hide its temple stands, alway, ajar    secure    inviting    it never did betray the soul that asked its shelter in solemn honesty 579 i had been hungry, all the years    my noon had come    to dine    i trembling drew the table near    and touched the curious wine    'twas this on tables i had seen    when turning, hungry, home i looked in windows, for the wealth i could not hope    for mine    i did not know the ample bread    'twas so unlike the crumb the birds and i, had often shared in nature's    dining room    the plenty hurt me    'twas so new    myself felt ill    and odd    as berry    of a mountain bush    transplanted    to a road    nor was i hungry    so i found that hunger    was a way of persons outside windows    the entering    takes away    580 i gave myself to him    and took himself, for pay, the solemn contract of a life was ratified, this way    the wealth might disappoint    myself a poorer prove than this great purchaser suspect, the daily own    of love depreciate the vision    but till the merchant buy    still fable    in the isles of spice    the subtle cargoes    lie    at least    'tis mutual    risk    some    found it    mutual gain    sweet debt of life    each night to owe    insolvent    every noon    581 i found the words to every thought i ever had    but one    and that    defies me    as a hand did try to chalk the sun to races    nurtured in the dark    how would your own    begin? can blaze be shown in cochineal    or noon    in mazarin? 582 inconceivably solemn! things go gay pierce    by the very press of imagery    their far parades    order on the eye with a mute pomp    a pleading pageantry    flags, are a brave sight    but no true eye ever went by one    steadily    music's triumphant    but the fine ear winces with delight are drums too near    583 a toad, can die of light    death is the common right of toads and men    of earl and midge the privilege    why swagger, then? the gnat's supremacy is large as thine    life    is a different thing    so measure wine    naked of flask    naked of cask    bare rhine    which ruby's mine? 584 it ceased to hurt me, though so slow i could not feel the anguish go    but only knew by looking back    that something    had benumbed the track    nor when it altered, i could say, for i had worn it, every day, as constant as the childish frock    i hung upon the peg, at night. but not the grief    that nestled close as needles    ladies softly press to cushions cheeks    to keep their place    nor what consoled it, i could trace    except, whereas 'twas wilderness    it's better    almost peace    585 i like to see it lap the miles    and lick the valleys up    and stop to feed itself at tanks    and then    prodigious step around a pile of mountains    and supercilious peer in shanties    by the sides of roads    and then a quarry pare to fit its ribs and crawl between complaining all the while in horrid    hooting stanza    then chase itself down hill    and neigh like boanerges    then    punctual as a star stop    docile and omnipotent at its own stable door    586 we talked as girls do    fond, and late    we speculated fair, on every subject, but the grave    of ours, none affair    we handled destinies, as cool    as we    disposers    be    and god, a quiet party to our authority    but fondest, dwelt upon ourself as we eventual    be    when girls to women, softly raised we    occupy    degree    we parted with a contract to cherish, and to write but heaven made both, impossible before another night. 587 empty my heart, of thee    its single artery    begin, and leave thee out    simply extinction's date    much billow hath the sea    one baltic    they    subtract thyself, in play, and not enough of me is left    to put away    "myself" meanth thee    erase the root    no tree    thee    then    no me    the heavens stripped    eternity's vast pocket, picked    588 i cried at pity    not at pain    i heard a woman say "poor child"    and something in her voice convicted me    of me    so long i fainted, to myself it seemed the common way, and health, and laughter, curious things    to look at, like a toy    to sometimes hear "rich people" buy and see the parcel rolled    and carried, i supposed    to heaven, for children, made of gold    but not to touch, or wish for, or think of, with a sigh    and so and so    had been to me, had god willed differently. i wish i knew that woman's name    so when she comes this way, to hold my life, and hold my ears for fear i hear her say she's "sorry i am dead"    again    just when the grave and i    have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, our only lullaby    589 the night was wide, and furnished scant with but a single star    that often as a cloud it met    blew out itself    for fear    the wind pursued the little bush    and drove away the leaves november left    then clambered up and fretted in the eaves    no squirrel went abroad    a dog's belated feet like intermittent plush, he heard adown the empty street    to feel if blinds be fast    and closer to the fire    her little rocking chair to draw    and shiver for the poor    the housewife's gentle task    how pleasanter    said she unto the sofa opposite    the sleet    than may, no thee    590 did you ever stand in a cavern's mouth    widths out of the sun    and look    and shudder, and block your breath    and deem to be alone in such a place, what horror, how goblin it would be    and fly, as 'twere pursuing you? then loneliness    looks so    did you ever look in a cannon's face    between whose yellow eye    and yours    the judgment intervened    the question of "to die"    extemporizing in your ear as cool as satyr's drums    if you remember, and were saved    it's liker so    it seems    591 to interrupt his yellow plan the sun does not allow caprices of the atmosphere    and even when the snow heaves balls of specks, like vicious boy directly in his eye    does not so much as turn his head busy with majesty    'tis his to stimulate the earth    and magnetize the sea    and bind astronomy, in place, yet any passing by would deem ourselves    the busier as the minutest bee that rides    emits a thunder    a bomb    to justify    592 what care the dead, for chanticleer    what care the dead for day? 'tis late your sunrise vex their face    and purple ribaldry    of morning pour as blank on them as on the tier of wall the mason builded, yesterday, and equally as cool    what care the dead for summer? the solstice had no sun could waste the snow before their gate    and knew one bird a tune    could thrill their mortised ear of all the birds that be    this one    beloved of mankind henceforward cherished be    what care the dead for winter? themselves as easy freeze    june noon    as january night    as soon the south    her breeze of sycamore    or cinnamon    deposit in a stone and put a stone to keep it warm    give spices    unto men    593 i think i was enchanted when first a sombre girl    i read that foreign lady    the dark    felt beautiful    and whether it was noon at night    or only heaven    at noon    for very lunacy of light i had not power to tell    the bees    became as butterflies    the butterflies    as swans    approached    and spurned the narrow grass    and just the meanest tunes that nature murmured to herself to keep herself in cheer    i took for giants    practising titanic opera    the days    to mighty metres stept    the homeliest    adorned as if unto a jubilee 'twere suddenly confirmed    i could not have defined the change    conversion of the mind like sanctifying in the soul    is witnessed    not explained    'twas a divine insanity    the danger to be sane should i again experience    'tis antidote to turn    to tomes of solid witchcraft    magicians be asleep    but magic    hath an element like deity    to keep    594 the battle fought between the soul and no man    is the one of all the battles prevalent    by far the greater one    no news of it is had abroad    its bodiless campaign establishes, and terminates    invisible    unknown    nor history    record it    as legions of a night the sunrise scatters    these endure    enact    and terminate    595 like mighty foot lights    burned the red at bases of the trees    the far theatricals of day exhibiting    to these    'twas universe    that did applaud    while chiefest    of the crowd    enabled by his royal dress    myself distinguished god    596 when i was small, a woman died    today    her only boy went up from the potomac    his face all victory to look at her    how slowly the seasons must have turned till bullets clipt an angle and he passed quickly round    if pride shall be in paradise    ourself cannot decide    of their imperial conduct    no person testified    but, proud in apparition    that woman and her boy pass back and forth, before my brain as even in the sky    i'm confident that bravoes    perpetual break abroad for braveries, remote as this in scarlet maryland    597 it always felt to me    a wrong to that old moses    done    to let him see    the canaan    without the entering    and tho' in soberer moments    no moses there can be i'm satisfied    the romance in point of injury    surpasses sharper stated    of stephen    or of paul    for these    were only put to death    while god's adroiter will on moses    seemed to fasten with tantalizing play as boy    should deal with lesser boy    to prove ability. the fault    was doubtless israel's    myself    had banned the tribes    and ushered grand old moses in pentateuchal robes upon the broad possession 'twas little    but titled him    to see    old man on nebo! late as this    my justice bleeds    for thee! 598 three times    we parted    breath    and i    three times    he would not go    but strove to stir the lifeless fan the waters    strove to stay. three times    the billows tossed me up    then caught me    like a ball    then made blue faces in my face    and pushed away a sail that crawled leagues off    i liked to see    for thinking    while i die    how pleasant to behold a thing where human faces    be    the waves grew sleepy    breath    did not    the winds    like children    lulled    then sunrise kissed my chrysalis    and i stood up    and lived    599 there is a pain    so utter    it swallows substance up    then covers the abyss with trance    so memory can step around    across    upon it    as one within a swoon    goes safely    where an open eye    would drop him    bone by bone. 600 it troubled me as once i was    for i was once a child    concluding how an atom    fell    and yet the heavens    held    the heavens weighed the most    by far    yet blue    and solid    stood    without a bolt    that i could prove    would giants    understand? life set me larger    problems    some i shall keep    to solve till algebra is easier    or simpler proved    above    then    too    be comprehended    what sorer    puzzled me    why heaven did not break away    and tumble    blue    on me    601 a still    volcano    life    that flickered in the night    when it was dark enough to do without erasing sight    a quiet    earthquake style    too subtle to suspect by natures this side naples    the north cannot detect the solemn    torrid    symbol    the lips that never lie    whose hissing corals part    and shut    and cities    ooze away    602 of brussels    it was not    of kidderminster? nay    the winds did buy it of the woods    they    sold it unto me it was a gentle price    the poorest    could afford    it was within the frugal purse of beggar    or of bird    of small and spicy yards    in hue    a mellow dun    of sunshine    and of sere    composed    but, principally    of sun    the wind    unrolled it fast    and spread it on the ground    upholsterer of the pines    is he    upholsterer    of the pond    603 he found my being    set it up    adjusted it to place    then carved his name    upon it    and bade it to the east be faithful    in his absence    and he would come again    with equipage of amber    that time    to take it home    604 unto my books    so good to turn    far ends of tired days    it half endears the abstinence    and pain    is missed    in praise    as flavors    cheer retarded guests with banquettings to be    so spices    stimulate the time till my small library    it may be wilderness    without    far feet of failing men    but holiday    excludes the night    and it is bells    within    i thank these kinsmen of the shelf    their countenances kid enamor    in prospective    and satisfy    obtained    605 the spider holds a silver ball in unperceived hands    and dancing softly to himself his yarn of pearl    unwinds    he plies from nought to nought    in unsubstantial trade    supplants our tapestries with his    in half the period    an hour to rear supreme his continents of light    then dangle from the housewife's broom    his boundaries    forgot    606 the trees like tassels    hit    and swung    there seemed to rise a tune from miniature creatures accompanying the sun    far psalteries of summer    enamoring the ear they never yet did satisfy    remotest    when most fair the sun shone whole at intervals    then half    then utter hid    as if himself were optional and had estates of cloud sufficient to enfold him eternally from view    except it were a whim of his to let the orchards grow    a bird sat careless on the fence    one gossipped in the lane on silver matters charmed a snake just winding round a stone    bright flowers slit a calyx and soared upon a stem like hindered flags    sweet hoisted    with spices    in the hem    'twas more    i cannot mention    how mean    to those that see    vandyke's delineation of nature's    summer day! 607 of nearness to her sundered things the soul has special times    when dimness    looks the oddity    distinctness    easy    seems    the shapes we buried, dwell about, familiar, in the rooms    untarnished by the sepulchre, the mouldering playmate comes    in just the jacket that he wore    long buttoned in the mold since we    old mornings, children    played    divided    by a world    the grave yields back her robberies    the years, our pilfered things    bright knots of apparitions salute us, with their wings    as we    it were    that perished    themself    had just remained till we rejoin them    and 'twas they, and not ourself that mourned. 608 afraid! of whom am i afraid? not death    for who is he? the porter of my father's lodge as much abasheth me! of life? 'twere odd i fear [a] thing that comprehendeth me in one or two existences    as deity decree    of resurrection? is the east afraid to trust the morn with her fastidious forehead? as soon impeach my crown! 609 i years had been from home and now before the door i dared not enter, lest a face i never saw before stare solid into mine and ask my business there    "my business but a life i left was such remaining there?" i leaned upon the awe    i lingered with before    the second like an ocean rolled and broke against my ear    i laughed a crumbling laugh that i could fear a door who consternation compassed and never winced before. i fitted to the latch my hand, with trembling care lest back the awful door should spring and leave me in the floor    then moved my fingers off as cautiously as glass and held my ears, and like a thief fled gasping from the house    610 you'll find    it when you try to die    the easier to let go    for recollecting such as went    you could not spare    you know. and though their places somewhat filled    as did their marble names with moss    they never grew so full    you chose the newer names    and when this world    sets further back    as dying    say it does    the former love    distincter grows    and supersedes the fresh    and thought of them    so fair invites    it looks too tawdry grace to stay behind    with just the toys we bought    to ease their place    611 i see thee better    in the dark    i do not need a light    the love of thee    a prism be    excelling violet    i see thee better for the years that hunch themselves between    the miner's lamp    sufficient be    to nullify the mine    and in the grave    i see thee best    its little panels be aglow    all ruddy    with the light i held so high, for thee    what need of day    to those whose dark    hath so    surpassing sun    it deem it be    continually    at the meridian? 612 it would have starved a gnat    to live so small as i    and yet i was a living child    with food's necessity upon me    like a claw    i could no more remove than i could coax a leech away    or make a dragon    move    not like the gnat    had i    the privilege to fly and seek a dinner for myself    how mightier he    than i    nor like himself    the art upon the window pane to gad my little being out    and not begin    again    613 they shut me up in prose    as when a little girl they put me in the closet    because they liked me "still"    still! could themself have peeped    and seen my brain    go round    they might as wise have lodged a bird for treason    in the pound    himself has but to will and easy as a star abolish his captivity    and laugh    no more have i    614 in falling timbers buried    there breathed a man    outside    the spades    were plying    the lungs    within    could he    know    they sought him    could they    know    he breathed    horrid sand partition    neither    could be heard    never slacked the diggers    but when spades had done    oh, reward of anguish, it was dying    then    many things    are fruitless    'tis a baffling earth    but there is no gratitude like the grace    of death    615 our journey had advanced    our feet were almost come to that odd fork in being's road    eternity    by term    our pace took sudden awe    our feet    reluctant    led    before    were cities    but between    the forest of the dead    retreat    was out of hope    behind    a sealed route    eternity's white flag    before    and god    at every gate    616 i rose    because he sank    i thought it would be opposite    but when his power dropped    my soul grew straight. i cheered my fainting prince    i sang firm    even    chants    i helped his film    with hymn    and when the dews drew off that held his forehead stiff    i met him    balm to balm    i told him best    must pass through this low arch of flesh    no casque so brave it spurn the grave    i told him worlds i knew where emperors grew    who recollected us if we were true    and so with thews of hymn    and sinew from within    and ways i knew not that i knew    till then    i lifted him    617 don't put up my thread and needle    i'll begin to sew when the birds begin to whistle    better stitches    so    these were bent    my sight got crooked    when my mind    is plain i'll do seams    a queen's endeavor would not blush to own    hems    too fine for lady's tracing to the sightless knot    tucks    of dainty interspersion    like a dotted dot    leave my needle in the furrow    where i put it down    i can make the zigzag stitches straight    when i am strong    till then    dreaming i am sewing fetch the seam i missed    closer    so i    at my sleeping    still surmise i stitch    618 at leisure is the soul that gets a staggering blow    the width of life    before it spreads without a thing to do    it begs you give it work    but just the placing pins    or humblest patchwork    children do    to help its vacant hands    619 glee    the great storm is over    four    have recovered the land    forty    gone down together    into the boiling sand    ring    for the scant salvation    toll    for the bonnie souls    neighbor    and friend    and bridegroom    spinning upon the shoals    how they will tell the story    when winter shake the door    till the children urge    but the forty    did they    come back no more? then a softness    suffuse the story    and a silence    the teller's eye    and the children    no further question    and only the sea    reply    620 it makes no difference abroad    the seasons    fit    the same    the mornings blossom into noons    and split their pods of flame    wild flowers    kindle in the woods    the brooks slam    all the day    no black bird bates his banjo    for passing calvary    auto da fe    and judgment    are nothing to the bee    his separation from his rose    to him    sums misery    621 i asked no other thing    no other    was denied    i offered being    for it    the mighty merchant sneered    brazil? he twirled a button    without a glance my way    "but    madam    is there nothing else    that we can show    today?" 622 to know just how he suffered    would be dear    to know if any human eyes were near to whom he could entrust his wavering gaze    until it settle broad    on paradise    to know if he was patient    part content    was dying as he thought    or different    was it a pleasant day to die    and did the sunshine face his way    what was his furthest mind    of home    or god    or what the distant say    at news that he ceased human nature such a day    and wishes    had he any    just his sigh    accented    had been legible    to me    and was he confident until ill fluttered out    in everlasting well    and if he spoke    what name was best    what last what one broke off with at the drowsiest    was he afraid    or tranquil    might he know how conscious consciousness    could grow    till love that was    and love too best to be    meet    and the junction be eternity 623 it was too late for man    but early, yet, for god    creation    impotent to help    but prayer    remained    our side    how excellent the heaven    when earth    cannot be had    how hospitable    then    the face of our old neighbor    god    624 forever    it composed of nows    'tis not a different time    except for infiniteness    and latitude of home    from this    experienced here    remove the dates    to these    let months dissolve in further months    and years    exhale in years    without debate    or pause    or celebrated days    no different our years would be from anno domini's    625 'twas a long parting    but the time for interview    had come    before the judgment seat of god    the last    and second time these fleshless lovers met    a heaven in a gaze    a heaven of heavens    the privilege of one another's eyes    no lifetime    on them    appareled as the new unborn    except they had beheld    born infiniter    now    was bridal    e'er like this? a paradise    the host    and cherubim    and seraphim    the unobtrusive guest    626 only god    detect the sorrow    only god    the jehovahs    are no babblers    unto god    god the son    confide it    still secure    god the spirit's honor    just as sure    627 the tint i cannot take    is best    the color too remote that i could show it in bazaar    a guinea at a sight    the fine    impalpable array    that swaggers on the eye like cleopatra's company    repeated    in the sky    the moments of dominion that happen on the soul and leave it with a discontent too exquisite    to tell    the eager look    on landscapes    as if they just repressed some secret    that was pushing like chariots    in the vest    the pleading of the summer    that other prank    of snow    that cushions mystery with tulle, for fear the squirrels    know. their graspless manners    mock us    until the cheated eye shuts arrogantly    in the grave    another way    to see    628 they called me to the window, for " 'twas sunset"    some one said    i only saw a sapphire farm    and just a single herd    of opal cattle    feeding far upon so vain a hill    as even while i looked    dissolved    nor cattle were    nor soil    but in their stead    a sea    displayed    and ships    of such a size as crew of mountains    could afford    and decks    to seat the skies    this    too    the showman rubbed away    and when i looked again    nor farm    nor opal herd    was there    nor mediterranean    629 i watched the moon around the house until upon a pane    she stopped    a traveller's privilege    for rest    and there upon i gazed    as at a stranger    the lady in the town doth think no incivility to lift her glass    upon    but never stranger justified the curiosity like mine    for not a foot    nor hand    nor formula    had she    but like a head    a guillotine slid carelessly away    did independent, amber    sustain her in the sky    or like a stemless flower    upheld in rolling air by finer gravitations    than bind philosopher    no hunger    had she    nor an inn    her toilette    to suffice    nor avocation    nor concern for little mysteries as harass us    like life    and death    and afterwards    or nay    but seemed engrossed to absolute    with shining    and the sky    the privilege to scrutinize was scarce upon my eyes when, with a silver practise    she vaulted out of gaze    and next    i met her on a cloud    myself too far below to follow her superior road    or its advantage    blue    630 the lightning playeth    all the while    but when he singeth    then    ourselves are conscious he exist    and we approach him    stern    with insulators    and a glove    whose short    sepulchral bass alarms us    tho' his yellow feet may pass    and counterpass    upon the ropes    above our head    continual    with the news    nor we so much as check our speech    nor stop to cross ourselves    631 ourselves were wed one summer    dear    your vision    was in june    and when your little lifetime failed, i wearied    too    of mine    and overtaken in the dark    where you had put me down    by some one carrying a light    i    too    received the sign. 'tis true    our futures different lay    your cottage    faced the sun    while oceans    and the north must be    on every side of mine 'tis true, your garden led the bloom, for mine    in frosts    was sown    and yet, one summer, we were queens    but you    were crowned in june    632 the brain    is wider than the sky    for    put them side by side    the one the other will contain with ease    and you    beside    the brain is deeper than the sea    for    hold them    blue to blue    the one the other will absorb    as sponges    buckets    do    the brain is just the weight of god    for    heft them    pound for pound    and they will differ    if they do    as syllable from sound    633 when bells stop ringing    church    begins the positive    of bells    when cogs    stop    that's circumference    the ultimate    of wheels. 634 you'll know her    by her foot    the smallest gamboge hand with fingers    where the toes should be    would more affront the sand    than this quaint creature's boot    adjusted by a stern    without a button    i could vouch    unto a velvet limb    you'll know her    by her vest    tight fitting    orange    brown    inside a jacket duller    she wore when she was born    her cap is small    and snug    constructed for the winds    she'd pass for barehead    short way off    but as she closer stands    so finer 'tis than wool    you cannot feel the seam    nor is it clasped unto of band    nor held upon    of brim    you'll know her    by her voice    at first    a doubtful tone    a sweet endeavor    but as march to april    hurries on    she squanders on your ear such arguments of pearl    you beg the robin in your brain to keep the other    still    635 i think the longest hour of all is when the cars have come    and we are waiting for the coach    it seems as though the time indignant    that the joy was come    did block the gilded hands    and would not let the seconds by    but slowest instant    ends    the pendulum begins to count    like little scholars    loud    the steps grow thicker    in the hall    the heart begins to crowd    then i    my timid service done    tho' service 'twas, of love    take up my little violin    and further north    remove. 636 the way i read a letter's    this    'tis first    i lock the door    and push it with my fingers    next    for transport it be sure    and then i go the furthest off to counteract a knock    then draw my little letter forth and slowly pick the lock    then    glancing narrow, at the wall    and narrow at the floor for firm conviction of a mouse not exorcised before    peruse how infinite i am to no one that you    know    and sigh for lack of heaven    but not the heaven god bestow    637 the child's faith is new    whole    like his principle    wide    like the sunrise on fresh eyes    never had a doubt    laughs    at a scruple    believes all sham but paradise    credits the world    deems his dominion broadest of sovereignties    and caesar    mean    in the comparison    baseless emperor    ruler of nought    yet swaying all    grown bye and bye to hold mistaken his pretty estimates of prickly things he gains the skill sorrowful    as certain    men    to anticipate instead of kings    638 to my small hearth his fire came    and all my house aglow did fan and rock, with sudden light    'twas sunrise    'twas the sky    impanelled from no summer brief    with limit of decay    'twas noon    without the news of night    nay, nature, it was day    639 my portion is defeat    today    a paler luck than victory    less paeans    fewer bells    the drums don't follow me    with tunes    defeat    a somewhat slower    means    more arduous than balls    'tis populous with bone and stain    and men too straight to stoop again   , and piles of solid moan    and chips of blank    in boyish eyes    and scraps of prayer    and death's surprise, stamped visible    in stone    there's somewhat prouder, over there    the trumpets tell it to the air    how different victory to him who has it    and the one who to have had it, would have been contender    to die    640 i cannot live with you    it would be life    and life is over there    behind the shelf the sexton keeps the key to    putting up our life    his porcelain    like a cup    discarded of the housewife    quaint    or broke    a newer sevres pleases    old ones crack    i could not die    with you    for one must wait to shut the other's gaze down    you    could not    and i    could i stand by and see you    freeze    without my right of frost    death's privilege? nor could i rise    with you    because your face would put out jesus'    that new grace glow plain    and foreign on my homesick eye    except that you than he shone closer by    they'd judge us    how    for you    served heaven    you know, or sought to    i could not    because you saturated sight    and i had no more eyes for sordid excellence as paradise and were you lost, i would be    though my name rang loudest on the heavenly fame    and were you    saved    and i    condemned to be where you were not    that self    were hell to me    so we must meet apart    you there    i    here    with just the door ajar that oceans are    and prayer    and that white sustenance    despair    641 size circumscribes    it has no room for petty furniture    the giant tolerates no gnat for ease of gianture    repudiates it, all the more    because intrinsic size ignores the possibility of calumnies    or flies. 642 me from myself    to banish    had i art    impregnable my fortress unto all heart    but since myself    assault me    how have i peace except by subjugating consciousness? and since we're mutual monarch how this be except by abdication    me    of me? 643 i could suffice for him, i knew    he    could suffice for me    yet hesitating fractions    both surveyed infinity    "would i be whole" he sudden broached    my syllable rebelled    'twas face to face with nature    forced    'twas face to face with god    withdrew the sun    to other wests    withdrew the furthest star before decision    stooped to speech    and then    be audibler the answer of the sea unto the motion of the moon    herself adjust her tides    unto    could i    do else    with mine? 644 you left me    sire    two legacies    a legacy of love a heavenly father would suffice had he the offer of    you left me boundaries of pain    capacious as the sea    between eternity and time    your consciousness    and me    645 bereavement in their death to feel whom we have never seen    a vital kinsmanship import our soul and theirs    between    for stranger    strangers do not mourn    there be immortal friends whom death see first    'tis news of this that paralyze ourselves    who, vital only to our thought    such presence bear away in dying    'tis as if our souls absconded    suddenly    646 i think to live    may be a bliss to those who dare to try    beyond my limit to conceive    my lip    to testify    i think the heart i former wore could widen    till to me the other, like the little bank appear    unto the sea    i think the days    could every one in ordination stand    and majesty    be easier    than an inferior kind    no numb alarm    lest difference come    no goblin    on the bloom    no start in apprehension's ear, no bankruptcy    no doom    but certainties of sun    midsummer    in the mind    a steadfast south    upon the soul    her polar time    behind    the vision    pondered long    so plausible becomes that i esteem the fiction    real    the real    fictitious seems    how bountiful the dream    what plenty    it would be    had all my life but been mistake just rectified    in thee 647 a little road    not made of man    enabled of the eye    accessible to thill of bee    or cart of butterfly    if town it have    beyond itself    'tis that    i cannot say    i only know    no curricle that rumble there bear me    648 promise this    when you be dying    some shall summon me    mine belong your latest sighing    mine    to belt your eye    not with coins    though they be minted from an emperor's hand    be my lips    the only buckle your low eyes    demand    mine to stay    when all have wandered    to devise once more if the life be too surrendered    life of mine    restore    poured like this    my whole libation    just that you should see bliss of death    life's bliss extol thro' imitating you    mine    to guard your narrow precinct    to seduce the sun longest on your south, to linger, largest dews of morn to demand, in your low favor lest the jealous grass greener lean    or fonder cluster round some other face    mine to supplicate madonna    if madonna be could behold so far a creature    christ    omitted    me    just to follow your dear future    ne'er so far behind    for my heaven    had i not been most enough    denied? 649 her sweet turn to leave the homestead came the darker way    carriages    be sure    and guests    too    but for holiday 'tis more pitiful endeavor than did loaded sea o'er the curls attempt to caper it had cast away    never bride had such assembling    never kinsmen kneeled to salute so fair a forehead    garland be indeed    fitter feet    of her before us    than whatever brow art of snow    or trick of lily possibly bestow of her father    whoso ask her    he shall seek as high as the palm    that serve the desert    to obtain the sky    distance    be her only motion    if 'tis nay    or yes    acquiescence    or demurral    whosoever guess    he    must pass the crystal angle that obscure her face    he    must have achieved in person equal paradise    650 pain    has an element of blank    it cannot recollect when it begun    or if there were a time when it was not    it has no future    but itself    its infinite contain its past    enlightened to perceive new periods    of pain. 651 so much summer me for showing illegitimate    would a smile's minute bestowing too exorbitant to the lady with the guinea look    if she should know crumb of mine a robin's larder would suffice to stow    652 a prison gets to be a friend    between its ponderous face and ours    a kinsmanship express    and in its narrow eyes    we come to look with gratitude for the appointed beam it deal us    stated as our food    and hungered for    the same    we learn to know the planks    that answer to our feet    so miserable a sound    at first    nor ever now    so sweet    as plashing in the pools    when memory was a boy    but a demurer circuit    a geometric joy    the posture of the key that interrupt the day to our endeavor    not so real the check of liberty    as this phantasm steel    whose features    day and night    are present to us    as our own    and as escapeless    quite    the narrow round    the stint    the slow exchange of hope    for something passiver    content too steep for lookinp up    the liberty we knew avoided    like a dream    too wide for any night but heaven    if that    indeed    redeem    653 of being is a bird the likest to the down an easy breeze do put afloat the general heavens    upon    it soars    and shifts    and whirls    and measures with the clouds in easy    even    dazzling pace    no different the birds    except a wake of music accompany their feet    as did the down emit a tune    for ecstasy    of it 654 a long    long sleep    a famous    sleep    that makes no show for morn    by stretch of limb    or stir of lid    an independent one    was ever idleness like this? upon a bank of stone to bask the centuries away    nor once look up    for noon? 655 without this    there is nought    all other riches be as is the twitter of a bird    heard opposite the sea    i could not care    to gain a lesser than the whole    for did not this include themself    as seams    include the ball? i wished a way might be my heart to subdivide    'twould magnify    the gratitude    and not reduce    the gold    656 the name    of it    is "autumn"    the hue    of it    is blood    an artery    upon the hill    a vein    along the road    great globules    in the alleys    and oh, the shower of stain    when winds    upset the basin    and spill the scarlet rain    it sprinkles bonnets    far below    it gathers ruddy pools    then    eddies like a rose    away    upon vermilion wheels    657 i dwell in possibility    a fairer house than prose    more numerous of windows    superior    for doors    of chambers as the cedars    impregnable of eye    and for an everlasting roof the gambrels of the sky    of visitors    the fairest    for occupation    this    the spreading wide of narrow hands to gather paradise    658 whole gulfs    of red, and fleets    of red    and crews    of solid blood    did place upon the west    tonight    as 'twere specific ground    and they    appointed creatures    in authorized arrays    due    promptly    as a drama    that bows    and disappears    659 that first day, when you praised me, sweet, and said that i was strong    and could be mighty, if i liked    that day    the days among    glows central    like a jewel between diverging golds    the minor one    that gleamed behind    and vaster    of the world's. 660 'tis good    the looking back on grief    to re endure a day    we thought the mighty funeral    of all conceived joy    to recollect how busy grass did meddle    one by one    till all the grief with summer    waved and none could see the stone. and though the woe you have today be larger    as the sea exceeds its unremembered drop    they're water    equally    661 could i but ride indefinite as doth the meadow bee and visit only where i liked and no one visit me and flirt all day with buttercups and marry whom i may and dwell a little everywhere or better, run away with no police to follow or chase him if he do till he should jump peninsulas to get away from me    i said "but just to be a bee" upon a raft of air and row in nowhere all day long and anchor "off the bar" what liberty! so captives deem who tight in dungeons are. 662 embarrassment of one another and god is revelation's limit, aloud is nothing that is chief, but still, divinity dwells under a seal. 663 again    his voice is at the door    i feel the old degree    i hear him ask the servant for such an one    as me    i take a flower    as i go    my face to justify    he never saw me    in this life    i might surprise his eye! i cross the hall with mingled steps    i    silent    pass the door    i look on all this world contains    just his face    nothing more! we talk in careless    and it toss    a kind of plummet strain    each    sounding    shyly    just    how    deep    the other's one    had been    we walk    i leave my dog    at home    a tender    thoughtful moon    goes with us    just a little way    and    then    we are alone    alone    if angels are "alone"    first time they try the sky! alone    if those "veiled faces"    be    we cannot count    on high! i'd give    to live that hour    again    the purple    in my vein    but he must count the drops    himself    my price for every stain! 664 of all the souls that stand create    i have elected    one    when sense from spirit    files away    and subterfuge    is done    when that which is    and that which was    apart    intrinsic    stand    and this brief drama in the flesh    is shifted    like a sand    when figures show their royal front    and mists    are carved away, behold the atom    i preferred    to all the lists of clay! 665 dropped into the ether acre    wearing the sod gown    bonnet of everlasting laces    brooch    frozen on    horses of blonde    and coach of silver    baggage a strapped pearl    journey of down    and whip of diamond    riding to meet the earl    666 ah, teneriffe! retreating mountain! purples of ages    pause for you    sunset    reviews her sapphire regiment    day    drops you her red adieu! still    clad in your mail of ices    thigh of granite    and thew    of steel    heedless    alike    of pomp    or parting ah, teneriffe! i'm kneeling    still    667 bloom upon the mountain    stated    blameless of a name    efflorescence of a sunset    reproduced    the same    seed, had i, my purple sowing should endow the day    not a topic of a twilight    show itself away    who for tilling    to the mountain come, and disappear    whose be her renown, or fading, witness, is not here    while i state    the solemn petals, far as north    and east, far as south and west    expanding    culminate    in rest    and the mountain to the evening fit his countenance    indicating, by no muscle    the experience    668 "nature" is what we see    the hill    the afternoon    squirrel    eclipse    the bumble bee    nay    nature is heaven    nature is what we hear    the bobolink    the sea    thunder    the cricket    nay    nature is harmony    nature is what we know    yet have no art to say    so impotent our wisdom is to her simplicity. 669 no romance sold unto could so enthrall a man as the perusal of his individual one    'tis fiction's    when 'tis small enough to credit    'tisn't true! 670 one need not be a chamber    to be haunted    one need not be a house    the brain has corridors    surpassing material place    far safer, of a midnight meeting external ghost than its interior confronting    that cooler host. far safer, through an abbey gallop, the stones a'chase    than unarmed, one's a'self encounter    in lonesome place    ourself behind ourself, concealed    should startle most    assassin hid in our apartment be horror's least. the body    borrows a revolver    he bolts the door    o'erlooking a superior spectre    or more    671 she dwelleth in the ground    where daffodils    abide    her maker    her metropolis    the universe    her maid    to fetch her grace    and hue    and fairness    and renown    the firmament's    to pluck her    and fetch her thee    be mine    672 the future    never spoke    nor will he    like the dumb    reveal by sign    a syllable of his profound to come    but when the news be ripe    presents it    in the act    forestalling preparation    escape    or substitute    indifference to him    the dower    as the doom    his office    but to execute fate's    telegram    to him    673 the love a life can show below is but a filament, i know, of that diviner thing that faints upon the face of noon    and smites the tinder in the sun    and hinders gabriel's wing    'tis this    in music    hints and sways    and far abroad on summer days    distils uncertain pain    'tis this enamors in the east    and tints the transit in the west with harrowing iodine    'tis this    invites    appalls    endows    flits    glimmers    proves    dissolves    returns    suggests    convicts    enchants    then    flings in paradise    674 the soul that hath a guest doth seldom go abroad    diviner crowd at home    obliterate the need    and courtesy forbid a host's departure when upon himself be visiting the emperor of men    675 essential oils    are wrung    the attar from the rose be not expressed by suns    alone    it is the gift of screws    the general rose    decay    but this    in lady's drawer make summer    when the lady lie in ceaseless rosemary    676 least bee that brew    a honey's weight content her smallest fraction help the amber quantity    677 to be alive    is power    existence    in itself    without a further function    omnipotence    enough    to be alive    and will! 'tis able as a god    the maker    of ourselves    be what    such being finitude! 678 wolfe demanded during dying "which obtain the day"? "general, the british"    "easy" answered wolfe "to die" montcalm, his opposing spirit rendered with a smile "sweet" said he "my own surrender liberty's beguile" 679 conscious am i in my chamber, of a shapeless friend    he doth not attest by posture    nor confirm    by word    neither place    need i present him    fitter courtesy hospitable intuition of his company    presence    is his furthest license    neither he to me nor myself to him    by accent    forfeit probity    weariness of him, were quainter than monotony knew a particle    of space's vast society neither if he visit other    do he dwell    or nay    know i    but instinct esteem him immortality    680 each life converges to some centre    expressed    or still    exists in every human nature a goal    embodied scarcely to itself    it may be    too fair for credibility's presumption to mar    adored with caution    as a brittle heaven    to reach were hopeless, as the rainbow's raiment to touch    yet persevered toward    sure    for the distance    how high    unto the saint's slow diligence    the sky    ungained    it may be    by a life's low venture    but then    eternity enable the endeavoring again. 681 soil of flint, if steady tilled    will refund by hand    seed of palm, by libyan sun fructified in sand    682 'twould ease    a butterfly    elate    a bee    thou'rt neither    neither    thy capacity    but, blossom, were i, i would rather be thy moment than a bee's eternity    content of fading is enough for me    fade i unto divinity    and dying    lifetime    ample as the eye    her least attention raise on me    683 the soul unto itself is an imperial friend    or the most agonizing spy    an enemy    could send    secure against its own    no treason it can fear    itself    its sovereign    of itself the soul should stand in awe    684 best gains    must have the losses' test    to constitute them    gains    685 not "revelation"    'tis    that waits, but our unfurnished eyes    686 they say that "time assuages"    time never did assuage    an actual suffering strengthens as sinews do, with age    time is a test of trouble    but not a remedy    if such it prove, it prove too there was no malady    687 i'll send the feather from my hat! who knows    but at the sight of that my sovereign will relent? as trinket    worn by faded child    confronting eyes long    comforted    blisters the adamant! 688 "speech"    is a prank of parliament    "tears"    is a trick of the nerve    but the heart with the heaviest freight on    doesn't    always    move    689 the zeroes    taught us    phosphorous    we learned to like the fire by playing glaciers    when a boy    and tinder    guessed    by power of opposite    to balance odd    if white    a red    must be! paralysis    our primer    dumb    unto vitality! 690 victory comes late    and is held low to freezing lips    too rapt with frost to take it    how sweet it would have tasted    just a drop    was god so economical? his table's spread too high for us    unless we dine on tiptoe    crumbs    fit such little mouths    cherries    suit robbins    the eagle's golden breakfast strangles    them    god keep his oath to sparrows    who of little love    know how to starve    691 would you like summer? taste of ours. spices? buy here! ill! we have berries, for the parching! weary! furloughs of down! perplexed! estates of violet trouble ne'er looked on! captive! we bring reprieve of roses! fainting! flasks of air! even for death, a fairy medicine. but, which is it, sir? 692 the sun kept setting    setting    still no hue of afternoon    upon the village i perceived from house to house 'twas noon    the dusk kept dropping    dropping    still no dew upon the grass    but only on my forehead stopped    and wandered in my face    my feet kept drowsing    drowsing    still my fingers were awake    yet why so little sound    myself unto my seeming    make? how well i knew the light before    i could see it now    'tis dying    i am doing    but i'm not afraid to know    693 shells from the coast mistaking    i cherished them for all    happening in after ages to entertain a pearl    wherefore so late    i murmured    my need of thee    be done    therefore    the pearl responded    my period begin 694 the heaven vests for each in that small deity it craved the grace to worship some bashful summer's day    half shrinking from the glory it importuned to see till these faint tabernacles drop in full eternity    how imminent the venture    as one should sue a star    for his mean sake to leave the row and entertain despair    a clemency so common    we almost cease to fear    enabling the minutest    and furthest    to adore    695 as if the sea should part and show a further sea    and that    a further    and the three but a presumption be    of periods of seas    unvisited of shores    themselves the verge of seas to be    eternity    is those    696 their height in heaven comforts not    their glory    nought to me    'twas best imperfect    as it was    i'm finite    i can't see    the house of supposition    the glimmering frontier that skirts the acres of perhaps    to me    shows insecure    the wealth i had    contented me    if 'twas a meaner size    then i had counted it until it pleased my narrow eyes    better than larger values    that show however true    this timid life of evidence keeps pleading    "i don't know." 697 i could bring you jewels    had i a mind to    but you have enough    of those    i could bring you odors from st. domingo    colors    from vera cruz    berries of the bahamas    have i    but this little blaze flickering to itself    in the meadow    suits me    more than those    never a fellow matched this topaz    and his emerald swing    dower itself    for bobadilo    better    could i bring? 698 life    is what we make of it    death    we do not know    christ's acquaintance with him justify him    though    he    would trust no stranger    other    could betray    just his own endorsement    that    sufficeth me    all the other distance he hath traversed first    no new mile remaineth    far as paradise    his sure foot preceding    tender pioneer    base must be the coward dare not venture    now    699 the judge is like the owl    i've heard my father tell    and owls do build in oaks    so here's an amber sill    that slanted in my path    when going to the barn    and if it serve you for a house    itself is not in vain    about the price    'tis small    i only ask a tune at midnight    let the owl select his favorite refrain. 700 you've seen balloons set    haven't you? so stately they ascend    it is as swans    discarded you, for duties diamond    their liquid feet go softly out upon a sea of blonde    they spurn the air, as t'were too mean for creatures so renowned    their ribbons just beyond the eye    they struggle    some    for breath    and yet the crowd applaud, below    they would not encore    death    the gilded creature strains    and spins    trips frantic in a tree    tears open her imperial veins    and tumbles in the sea    the crowd    retire with an oath    the dust in streets    go down    and clerks in counting rooms observe    "'twas only a balloon"    701 a thought went up my mind today    that i have had before    but did not finish    some way back    i could not fix the year    nor where it went    nor why it came the second time to me    nor definitely, what it was    have i the art to say    but somewhere    in my soul    i know    i've met the thing before    it just reminded me    'twas all    and came my way no more    702 a first mute coming    in the stranger's house    a first fair going    when the bells rejoice    a first exchange    of what hath mingled    been    for lot    exhibited to faith    alone    703 out of sight? what of that? see the bird    reach it! curve by curve    sweep by sweep    round the steep air    danger! what is that to her? better 'tis to fail    there    than debate    here    blue is blue    the world through    amber    amber    dew    dew    seek    friend    and see    heaven is shy of earth    that's all    bashful heaven    thy lovers small    hide    too    from thee    704 no matter    now    sweet    but when i'm earl    won't you wish you'd spoken to that dull girl? trivial a word    just    trivial    a smile    but won't you wish you'd spared one when i'm earl? i shan't need it    then    crests    will do    eagles on my buckles    on my belt    too    ermine    my familiar gown    say    sweet    then won't you wish you'd smiled    just    me upon? 705 suspense    is hostiler than death    death    tho'soever broad, is just death, and cannot increase    suspense    does not conclude    but perishes    to live anew    but just anew to die    annihilation    plated fresh with immortality    706 life, and death, and giants    such as these    are still    minor    apparatus    hopper of the mill    beetle at the candle    or a fife's fame    maintain    by accident that they proclaim    707 the grace    myself    might not obtain    confer upon my flower    refracted but a countenance    for i    inhabit her    708 i sometimes drop it, for a quick    the thought to be alive    anonymous delight to know    and madder    to conceive    consoles a woe so monstrous that did it tear all day, without an instant's respite    'twould look too far    to die    709 publication    is the auction of the mind of man    poverty    be justifying for so foul a thing possibly    but we    would rather from our garret go white    unto the white creator    than invest    our snow    thought belong to him who gave it    then    to him who bear its corporeal illustration    sell the royal air    in the parcel    be the merchant of the heavenly grace    but reduce no human spirit to disgrace of price    710 the sunrise runs for both    the east    her purple troth keeps with the hill    the noon unwinds her blue till one breadth cover two    remotest    still    nor does the night forget a lamp for each    to set    wicks wide away    the north    her blazing sign erects in iodine    till both    can see    the midnight's dusky arms clasp hemispheres, and homes and so upon her bosom    one    and one upon her hem    both lie    711 strong draughts of their refreshing minds to drink    enables mine through desert or the wilderness as bore it sealed wine    to go elastic    or as one the camel's trait    attained    how powerful the stimulus of an hermetic mind    712 because i could not stop for death    he kindly stopped for me    the carriage held but just ourselves    and immortality. we slowly drove    he knew no haste and i had put away my labor and my leisure too, for his civility    we passed the school, where children strove at recess    in the ring    we passed the fields of gazing grain    we passed the setting sun    or rather    he passed us    the dews drew quivering and chill    for only gossamer, my gown    my tippet    only tulle    we paused before a house that seemed a swelling of the ground    the roof was scarcely visible    the cornice    in the ground    since then    'tis centuries    and yet feels shorter than the day i first surmised the horses' heads were toward eternity    713 fame of myself, to justify, all other plaudit be superfluous    an incense beyond necessity    fame of myself to lack    although my name be else supreme    this were an honor honorless    a futile diadem    714 rest at night the sun from shining, nature    and some men    rest at noon    some men    while nature and the sun    go on    715 the world    feels dusty when we stop to die    we want the dew    then    honors    taste dry    flags    vex a dying face    but the least fan stirred by a friend's hand    cools    like the rain    mine be the ministry when they thirst comes    and hybla balms    dews of thessaly, to fetch    716 the day undressed    herself    her garter    was of gold    her petticoat    of purple plain    her dimities    as old exactly    as the world    and yet the newest star    enrolled upon the hemisphere be wrinkled    much as her    too near to god    to pray    too near to heaven    to fear    the lady of the occident retired without a care    her candle so expire the flickering be seen on ball of mast in bosporus    and dome    and window pane    717 the beggar lad    dies early    it's somewhat in the cold    and somewhat in the trudging feet    and haply, in the world    the cruel    smiling    bowing world    that took its cambric way    nor heard the timid cry for "bread"    "sweet lady    charity"    among redeemed children if trudging feet may stand the barefoot time forgotten    so    the sleet    the bitter wind    the childish hands that teased for pence lifted adoring    them    to him whom never ragged    coat did supplicate in vain    718 i meant to find her when i came    death    had the same design    but the success    was his    it seems    and the surrender    mine    i meant to tell her how i longed for just this single time    but death had told her so the first    and she had past, with him    to wander    now    is my repose    to rest    to rest would be a privilege of hurricane to memory    and me. 719 a south wind    has a pathos of individual voice    as one detect on landings an emigrant's address. a hint of ports and peoples    and much not understood    the fairer    for the farness    and for the foreignhood. 720 no prisoner be    where liberty    himself    abide with thee    721 behind me    dips eternity    before me    immortality    myself    the term between    death but the drift of eastern gray, dissolving into dawn away, before the west begin    'tis kingdoms    afterward    they say    in perfect    pauseless monarchy    whose prince    is son of none    himself    his dateless dynasty    himself    himself diversify    in duplicate divine    'tis miracle before me    then    'tis miracle behind    between    a crescent in the sea    with midnight to the north of her    and midnight to the south of her    and maelstrom    in the sky    722 sweet mountains    ye tell me no lie    never deny me    never fly    those same unvarying eyes turn on me    when i fail    or feign, or take the royal names in vain    their far    slow    violet gaze    my strong madonnas    cherish still    the wayward nun    beneath the hill    whose service    is to you    her latest worship    when the day fades from the firmament away    to lift her brows on you    723 it tossed    and tossed    a little brig i knew    o'ertook by blast    it spun    and spun    and groped delirious, for morn    it slipped    and slipped    as one that drunken    stept    its white foot tripped    then dropped from sight    ah, brig    good night to crew and you    the ocean's heart too smooth    too blue    to break for you    724 it's easy to invent a life    god does it    every day    creation    but the gambol of his authority    it's easy to efface it    the thrifty deity could scarce afford eternity to spontaneity    the perished patterns murmur    but his perturbless plan proceed    inserting here    a sun    there    leaving out a man    725 where thou art    that    is home    cashmere    or calvary    the same    degree    or shame    i scarce esteem location's name    so i may come    what thou dost    is delight    bondage as play    be sweet    imprisonment    content    and sentence    sacrament    just we two    meet    where thou art not    is woe    tho' bands of spices    row    what thou dost not    despair    tho' gabriel    praise me    sire    726 we thirst at first    'tis nature's act    and later    when we die    a little water supplicate    of fingers going by    it intimates the finer want    whose adequate supply is that great water in the west    termed immortality    727 precious to me    she still shall be    though she forget the name i bear    the fashion of the gown i wear    the very color of my hair    so like the meadows    now    i dared to show a tress of theirs if haply    she might not despise a buttercup's array    i know the whole    obscures the part    the fraction    that appeased the heart till number's empery    remembered    as the millner's flower when summer's everlasting dower    confronts the dazzled bee. 728 let us play yesterday    i    the girl at school    you    and eternity    the untold tale    easing my famine at my lexicon    logarithm    had i    for drink    'twas a dry wine    somewhat different    must be    dreams tint the sleep    cunning reds of morning make the blind    leap    still at the egg life    chafing the shell    when you troubled the ellipse    and the bird fell    manacles be dim    they say    to the new free    liberty    commoner    never could    to me    'twas my last gratitude when i slept    at night    'twas the first miracle let in    with light    can the lark resume the shell    easier    for the sky    wouldn't bonds hurt more than yesterday? wouldn't dungeons sorer frate on the man    free    just long enough to taste    then    doomed new    god of the manacle as of the free    take not my liberty away from me    729 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    sir    i will    of you    730 defrauded i a butterfly    the lawful heir    for thee    731 "i want"    it pleaded    all its life    i want    was chief it said when skill entreated it    the last    and when so newly dead    i could not deem it late    to hear that single    steadfast sigh    the lips had placed as with a "please" toward eternity    732 she rose to his requirement    dropt the playthings of her life to take the honorable work of woman, and of wife    if ought she missed in her new day, of amplitude, or awe    or first prospective    or the gold in using, wear away, it lay unmentioned    as the sea develop pearl, and weed, but only to himself    be known the fathoms they abide    733 the spirit is the conscious ear. we actually hear when we inspect    that's audible    that is admitted    here    for other services    as sound    there hangs a smaller ear outside the castle    that contain    the other    only    hear    734 if he were living    dare i ask    and how if he be dead    and so around the words i went    of meeting them    afraid    i hinted changes    lapse of time    the surfaces of years    i touched with caution    lest they crack    and show me to my fears    reverted to adjoining lives    adroitly turning out wherever i suspected graves    'twas prudenter    i thought    and he    i pushed    with sudden force    in face of the suspense    "was buried"    "buried"! "he!" my life just holds the trench    735 upon concluded lives there's nothing cooler falls    than life's sweet calculations    the mixing bells and palls    make lacerating tune    to ears the dying side    'tis coronal    and funeral    saluting    in the road    736 have any like myself investigating march, new houses on the hill descried    and possibly a church    that were not, we are sure    as lately as the snow    and are today    if we exist    though how may this be so? have any like myself conjectured who may be the occupants of the adobes    so easy to the sky    'twould seem that god should be the nearest neighbor to    and heaven    a convenient grace for show, or company    have any like myself preserved the charm secure by shunning carefully the place all seasons of the year, excepting march    'tis then my villages be seen    and possibly a steeple    not afterward    by men    737 the moon was but a chin of gold a night or two ago    and now she turns her perfect face upon the world below    her forehead is of amplest blonde    her cheek    a beryl hewn    her eye unto the summer dew the likest i have known    her lips of amber never part    but what must be the smile upon her friend she could confer were such her silver will    and what a privilege to be but the remotest star    for certainty she take her way beside your palace door    her bonnet is the firmament    the universe    her shoe    the stars    the trinkets at her belt    her dimities    of blue    738 you said that i "was great"    one day    then "great" it be    if that please thee    or small    or any size at all    nay    i'm the size suit thee    tall    like the stag    would that? or lower    like the wren    or other heights of other ones i've seen? tell which    it's dull to guess    and i must be rhinoceros or mouse    at once    for thee    so say    if queen it be    or page    please thee    i'm that    or nought    or other thing    if other thing there be    with just this stipulus    i suit thee    739 i many times thought peace had come when peace was far away    as wrecked men    deem they sight the land    at centre of the sea    and struggle slacker    but to prove as hopelessly as i    how many the fictitious shores    before the harbor be    740 you taught me waiting with myself    appointment strictly kept    you taught me fortitude of fate    this    also    i have learnt    an altitude of death, that could no bitterer debar than life    had done    before it    yet    there is a science more    the heaven you know    to understand that you be not ashamed of me    in christ's bright audience upon the further hand    741 drama's vitallest expression is the common day that arise and set about us    other tragedy perish in the recitation    this    the best enact when the audience is scattered and the boxes shut    "hamlet" to himself were hamlet    had not shakespeare wrote    though the "romeo" left no record of his juliet, it were infinite enacted in the human heart    only theatre recorded owner cannot shut    742 four trees    upon a solitary acre    without design or order, or apparent action    maintain    the sun    upon a morning meets them    the wind    no nearer neighbor    have they    but god    the acre gives them    place    they    him    attention of passer by    of shadow, or of squirrel, haply    or boy    what deed is theirs unto the general nature    what plan they severally    retard    or further    unknown    743 the birds reported from the south    a news express to me    a spicy charge, my little posts    but i am deaf    today    the flowers    appealed    a timid throng    i reinforced the door    go blossom for the bees    i said    and trouble me    no more    the summer grace, for notice strove    remote    her best array    the heart    to stimulate the eye refused too utterly    at length, a mourner, like myself, she drew away austere    her frosts to ponder    then it was i recollected her    she suffered me, for i had mourned    i offered her no word    my witness    was the crape i bore    her    witness    was her dead    thenceforward    we    together dwelt    i never questioned her    our contract a wiser sympathy 744 remorse    is memory    awake    her parties all astir    a presence of departed acts    at window    and at door    its past    set down before the soul and lighted with a match    perusal    to facilitate    and help belief to stretch    remorse is cureless    the disease not even god    can heal    for 'tis his institution    and the adequate of hell    745 renunciation    is a piercing virtue    the letting go a presence    for an expectation    not now    the putting out of eyes    just sunrise    lest day    day's great progenitor    outvie renunciation    is the choosing against itself    itself to justify unto itself    when larger function    make that appear    smaller    that covered vision    here    746 never for society he shall seek in vain    who his own acquaintance cultivate    of men wiser men may weary    but the man within never knew satiety    better entertain than could border ballad    or biscayan hymn    neither introduction need you    unto him    747 it dropped so low    in my regard    i heard it hit the ground    and go to pieces on the stones at bottom of my mind    yet blamed the fate that flung it    less than i denounced myself, for entertaining plated wares upon my silver shelf    748 autumn    overlooked my knitting    dyes    said he    have i    could disparage a flamingo    show me them    said i    cochineal    i chose    for deeming it resemble thee    and the little border    dusker    for resembling me    749 all but death, can be adjusted    dynasties repaired    systems    settled in their sockets    citadels    dissolved    wastes of lives    resown with colors by succeeding springs    death    unto itself    exception    is exempt from change    750 growth of man    like growth of nature    gravitates within    atmosphere, and sun endorse it    bit it stir    alone    each    its difficult ideal must achieve    itself    through the solitary prowess of a silent life    effort    is the sole condition    patience of itself    patience of opposing forces    and intact belief    looking on    is the department of its audience    but transaction    is assisted by no countenance    751 my worthiness is all my doubt    his merit    all my fear    contrasting which, my quality do lowlier    appear    lest i should insufficient prove for his beloved need    the chiefest apprehension upon my thronging mind    'tis true    that deity to stoop inherently incline    for nothing higher than itself itself can rest upon    so i    the undivine abode of his elect content    conform my soul    as 'twere a church, unto her sacrament    752 so the eyes accost    and sunder in an audience    stamped    occasionally    forever    so may countenance entertain    without addressing countenance of one in a neighboring horizon    gone    as soon as known    753 my soul    accused me    and i quailed    as tongue of diamond had reviled all else accused me    and i smiled    my soul    that morning    was my friend    her favor    is the best disdain toward artifice of time    or men    but her disdain    'twere lighter bear a finger of enamelled fire    754 my life had stood    a loaded gun    in corners    till a day the owner passed    identified    and carried me away    and now we roam in sovereign woods    and now we hunt the doe    and every time i speak for him    the mountains straight reply    and do i smile, such cordial light upon the valley glow    it is as a vesuvian face had let its pleasure through    and when at night    our good day done    i guard my master's head    'tis better than the eider duck's deep pillow    to have shared    to foe of his    i'm deadly foe    none stir the second time    on whom i lay a yellow eye    or an emphatic thumb    though i than he    may longer live he longer must    than i    for i have but the power to kill, without    the power to die    755 no bobolink    reverse his singing when the only tree ever he minded occupying by the farmer be    clove to the root    his spacious future    best horizon    gone    whose music be his only anodyne    brave bobolink    756 one blessing had i than the rest so larger to my eyes that i stopped gauging    satisfied    for this enchanted size    it was the limit of my dream    the focus of my prayer    a perfect    paralyzing bliss    contented as despair    i knew no more of want    or cold    phantasms both become for this new value in the soul    supremest earthly sum    the heaven below the heaven above    obscured with ruddier blue    life's latitudes leant over    full    the judgment perished    too    why bliss so scantily disburse    why paradise defer    why floods be served to us    in bowls    i speculate no more    757 the mountains    grow unnoticed    their purple figures rise without attempt    exhaustion    assistance    or applause    in their eternal faces the sun    with just delight looks long    and last    and golden    for fellowship    at night    758 these    saw visions    latch them softly    these    held dimples    smooth them slow    this    addressed departing accents    quick    sweet mouth    to miss thee so    this    we stroked    unnumbered satin    these    we held among our own    fingers of the slim aurora    not so arrogant    this noon    these    adjust    that ran to meet us    pearl    for stocking    pearl for shoe    paradise    the only palace fit for her reception    now    759 he fought like those who've nought to lose    bestowed himself to balls as one who for a further life had not a further use    invited death    with bold attempt    but death was coy of him as other men, were coy of death    to him    to live    was doom    his comrades, shifted like the flakes when gusts reverse the snow    but he    was left alive because of greediness to die    760 most she touched me by her muteness    most she won me by the way she presented her small figure    plea itself    for charity    were a crumb my whole possession    were there famine in the land    were it my resource from starving    could i such a plea withstand    not upon her knee to thank me sank this beggar from the sky    but the crumb partook    departed    and returned on high    i supposed    when sudden such a praise began 'twas as space sat singing to herself    and men    'twas the winged beggar    afterward i learned to her benefactor making gratitude 761 from blank to blank    a threadless way i pushed mechanic feet    to stop    or perish    or advance    alike indifferent    if end i gained it ends beyond indefinite disclosed    i shut my eyes    and groped as well 'twas lighter    to be blind    762 the whole of it came not at once    'twas murder by degrees    a thrust    and then for life a chance    the bliss to cauterize    the cat reprieves the mouse she eases from her teeth just long enough for hope to tease    then mashes it to death    'tis life's award    to die    contenteder if once    than dying half    then rallying for consciouser eclipse    763 he told a homely tale and spotted it with tears    upon his infant face was set the cicatrice of years    all crumpled was the cheek no other kiss had known than flake of snow, divided with the redbreast of the barn    if mother    in the grave    or father    on the sea    or father in the firmament    or brethren, had he    if commonwealth below, or commonwealth above have missed a barefoot citizen    i've ransomed it    alive    764 presentiment    is that long shadow    on the lawn    indicatives that suns go down    the notice to the startled grass that darkness    is about to pass    765 you constituted time    i deemed eternity a revelation of yourself    'twas therefore deity the absolute    removed the relative away    that i unto himself adjust my slow idolatry    766 my faith is larger than the hills    so when the hills decay    my faith must take the purple wheel to show the sun the way    'tis first he steps upon the vane    and then    upon the hill    and then abroad the world he go to do his golden will    and if his yellow feet should miss    the bird would not arise    the flowers would slumber on their stems    no bells have paradise    how dare i, therefore, stint a faith on which so vast depends    lest firmament should fail for me    the rivet in the bands 767 to offer brave assistance to lives that stand alone    when one has failed to stop them    is human    but divine to lend an ample sinew unto a nameless man    whose homely benediction no other    stopped to earn    768 when i hoped, i recollect just the place i stood    at a window facing west    roughest air    was good    not a sleet could bite me    not a frost could cool    hope it was that kept me warm    not merino shawl    when i feared    i recollect just the day it was    worlds were lying out to sun    yet how nature froze    icicles upon my soul prickled blue and cool    bird went praising everywhere    only me    was still    and the day that i despaired    this    if i forget nature will    that it be night after sun has set    darkness intersect her face    and put out her eye    nature hesitate    before memory and i    769 one and one    are one    two    be finished using    well enough for schools    but for minor choosing    life    just    or death    or the everlasting    more    would be too vast for the soul's comprising    770 i lived on dread    to those who know the stimulus there is in danger    other impetus is numb    and vitalless    as 'twere a spur    upon the soul    a fear will urge it where to go without the sceptre's aid were challenging despair. 771 none can experience sting who bounty    have not known    the fact of famine    could not be except for fact of corn    want    is a meagre art acquired by reverse    the poverty that was not wealth    cannot be indigence. 772 the hallowing of pain like hallowing of heaven, obtains at a corporeal cost    the summit is not given to him who strives severe at middle of the hill    but he who has achieved the top    all    is the price of all    773 deprived of other banquet, i entertained myself    at first    a scant nutrition    an insufficient loaf    but grown by slender addings to so esteemed a size 'tis sumptuous enough for me    and almost to suffice a robin's famine able    red pilgrim, he and i    a berry from our table reserve    for charity    774 it is a lonesome glee    yet sanctifies the mind    with fair association    afar upon the wind a bird to overhear delight without a cause    arrestless as invisible    a matter of the skies. 775 if blame be my side    forfeit me    but doom me not to forfeit thee    to forfeit thee? the very name is sentence from belief    and house    776 the color of a queen, is this    the color of a sun at setting    this and amber    beryl    and this, at noon    and when at night    auroran widths fling suddenly on men    'tis this    and witchcraft    nature keeps a rank    for iodine    777 the loneliness one dare not sound    and would as soon surmise as in its grave go plumbing to ascertain the size    the loneliness whose worst alarm is lest itself should see    and perish from before itself for just a scrutiny    the horror not to be surveyed    but skirted in the dark    with consciousness suspended    and being under lock    i fear me this    is loneliness    the maker of the soul its caverns and its corridors illuminate    or seal    778 this that would greet    an hour ago    is quaintest distance    now    had it a guest from paradise    nor glow, would it, nor bow    had it a notice from the noon nor beam would it nor warm    match me the silver reticence    match me the solid calm    779 the service without hope    is tenderest, i think    because 'tis unsustained by stint    rewarded work    has impetus of gain    and impetus of goal    there is no diligence like that that knows not an until    780 the truth    is stirless    other force    may be presumed to move    this    then    is best for confidence    when oldest cedars swerve    and oaks untwist their fists    and mountains    feeble    lean    how excellent a body, that stands without a bone    how vigorous a force that holds without a prop    truth stays herself    and every man that trusts her    boldly up    781 to wait an hour    is long    if love be just beyond    to wait eternity    is short    if love reward the end    782 there is an arid pleasure    as different from joy    as frost is different from dew    like element    are they    yet one    rejoices flowers    and one    the flowers abhor    the finest honey    curdled    is worthless    to the bee    783 the birds begun at four o'clock    their period for dawn    a music numerous as space    but neighboring as noon    i could not count their force    their voices did expend as brook by brook bestows itself to multiply the pond. their witnesses were not    except occasional man    in homely industry arrayed    to overtake the morn    nor was it for applause    that i could ascertain    but independent ecstasy of deity and men    by six, the flood had done    no tumult there had been of dressing, or departure    and yet the band was gone    the sun engrossed the east    the day controlled the world    the miracle that introduced forgotten, as fulfilled. 784 bereaved of all, i went abroad    no less bereaved was i upon a new peninsula    the grave preceded me    obtained my lodgings, ere myself    and when i sought my bed    the grave it was reposed upon the pillow for my head    i waked to find it first awake    i rose    it followed me    i tried to drop it in the crowd    to lose it in the sea    in cups of artificial drowse to steep its shape away    the grave    was finished    but the spade remained in memory    785 they have a little odor    that to me is metre    nay    'tis melody    and spiciest at fading    indicate    a habit    of a laureate    786 severer service of myself i    hastened to demand to fill the awful vacuum your life had left behind    i worried nature with my wheels when hers had ceased to run    when she had put away her work my own had just begun. i strove to weary brain and bone    to harass to fatigue the glittering retinue of nerves    vitality to clog to some dull comfort those obtain who put a head away they knew the hair to    and forget the color of the day    affliction would not be appeased    the darkness braced as firm as all my stratagem had been the midnight to confirm    no drug for consciousness    can be    alternative to die is nature's only pharmacy for being's malady    787 such is the force of happiness    the least    can lift a ton assisted by its stimulus    who misery    sustain    no sinew can afford    the cargo of themselves    too infinite for consciousness' slow capabilities. 788 joy to have merited the pain    to merit the release    joy to have perished every step    to compass paradise    pardon    to look upon thy face    with these old fashioned eyes    better than new    could be    for that    though bought in paradise    because they looked on thee before    and thou hast looked on them    prove me    my hazel witnesses the features are the same    so fleet thou wert, when present    so infinite    when gone    an orient's apparition    remanded of the morn    the height i recollect    'twas even with the hills    the depth upon my soul was notched    as floods    on whites of wheels    to haunt    till time have dropped his last decade away, and haunting actualize    to last at least    eternity    789 on a columnar self    how ample to rely in tumult    or extremity    how good the certainty that lever cannot pry    and wedge cannot divide conviction    that granitic base    though none be on our side    suffice us    for a crowd    ourself    and rectitude    and that assembly    not far off from furthest spirit    god    790 nature    the gentlest mother is, impatient of no child    the feeblest    or the waywardest    her admonition mild    in forest    and the hill    by traveller    be heard    restraining rampant squirrel    or too impetuous bird    how fair her conversation    a summer afternoon    her household    her assembly    and when the sung go down    her voice among the aisles incite the timid prayer of the minutest cricket    the most unworthy flower    when all the children sleep    she turns as long away as will suffice to light her lamps    then bending from the sky    with infinite affection    and infiniter care    her golden finger on her lip    wills silence    everywhere    791 god gave a loaf to every bird    but just a crumb    to me    i dare not eat it    tho' i starve    my poignant luxury    to own it    touch it    prove the feat    that made the pellet mine    too happy    for my sparrow's chance    for ampler coveting    it might be famine    all around    i could not miss an ear    such plenty smiles upon my board    my garner shows so fair    i wonder how the rich    may feel    an indiaman    an earl    i deem that i    with but a crumb    am sovereign of them all    792 through the strait pass of suffering    the martyrs    even    trod. their feet    upon temptations    their faces    upon god    a stately    shriven    company    convulsion    playing round    harmless    as streaks of meteor    upon a planet's bond    their faith    the everlasting troth    their expectation    fair    the needle    to the north degree    wades    so    thro' polar air! 793 grief is a mouse    and chooses wainscot in the breast for his shy house    and baffles quest    grief is a thief    quick startled    pricks his ear    report to hear of that vast dark    that swept his being    back    grief is a juggler    boldest at the play    lest if he flinch    the eye that way pounce on his bruises    one    say    or three    grief is a gourmand    spare his luxury    best grief is tongueless    before he'll tell    burn him in the public square    his ashes    will possibly    if they refuse    how then know    since a rack couldn't coax a syllable    now. 794 a drop fell on the apple tree    another    on the roof    a half a dozen kissed the eaves    and made the gables laugh    a few went out to help the brook that went to help the sea    myself conjectured were they pearls    what necklace could be    the dust replaced, in hoisted roads    the birds jocoser sung    the sunshine threw his hat away    the bushes    spangles flung    the breezes brought dejected lutes    and bathed them in the glee    then orient showed a single flag, and signed the fete away    795 her final summer was it    and yet we guessed it not    if tenderer industriousness pervaded her, we thought a further force of life developed from within    when death lit all the shortness up it made the hurry plain    we wondered at our blindness when nothing was to see but her carrara guide post    at our stupidity    when duller than our dullness the busy darling lay    so busy was she    finishing    so leisurely    were we    796 who giants know, with lesser men are incomplete, and shy    for greatness, that is ill at ease in minor company    a smaller, could not be perturbed    the summer gnat displays    unconscious that his single fleet do not comprise the skies    797 by my window have i for scenery just a sea    with a stem    if the bird and the farmer    deem it a "pine"    the opinion will serve    for them    it has no port, nor a "line"    but the jays    that split their route to the sky    or a squirrel, whose giddy peninsula may be easier reached    this way    for inlands    the earth is the under side    and the upper side    is the sun    and its commerce    if commerce it have    of spice    i infer from the odors borne    of its voice    to affirm    when the wind is within    can the dumb    define the divine? the definition of melody    is    that definition is none    it    suggests to our faith    they    suggest to our sight    when the latter    is put away i shall meet with conviction i somewhere met that immortality    was the pine at my window a "fellow of the royal" infinity? apprehensions    are god's introductions    to be hallowed    accordingly    798 she staked her feathers    gained an arc    debated    rose again    this time    beyond the estimate of envy, or of men    and now, among circumference    her steady boat be seen    at home    among the billows    as the bough where she was born    799 despair's advantage is achieved by suffering    despair    to be assisted of reverse one must reverse have bore    the worthiness of suffering like the worthiness of death is ascertained by tasting    as can no other mouth of savors    make us conscious    as did ourselves partake    affliction feels impalpable until ourselves are struck    800 two    were immortal twice    the privilege of few    eternity    obtained    in time    reversed divinity    that our ignoble eyes the quality conceive of paradise superlative    through their comparative. 801 i play at riches    to appease the clamoring for gold    it kept me from a thief, i think, for often, overbold with want, and opportunity    i could have done a sin and been myself that easy thing an independent man    but often as my lot displays too hungry to be borne i deem myself what i would be    and novel comforting my poverty and i derive    we question if the man    who own    esteem the opulence    as we    who never can    should ever these exploring hands chance sovereign on a mine    or in the long    uneven term to win, become their turn    how fitter they will be    for want    enlightening so well    i know not which, desire, or grant    be wholly beautiful    802 time feels so vast that were it not for an eternity    i fear me this circumference engross my finity    to his exclusion, who prepare by processes of size for the stupendous vision of his diameters    803 who court obtain within himself sees every man a king    and poverty of monarchy is an interior thing    no man depose whom fate ordain    and who can add a crown to him who doth continual conspire against his own 804 no notice gave she, but a change    no message, but a sigh    for whom, the time did not suffice that she should specify. she was not warm, though summer shone nor scrupulous of cold though rime by rime, the steady frost upon her bosom piled    of shrinking ways    she did not fright though all the village looked    but held her gravity aloft    and met the gaze    direct    and when adjusted like a seed in careful fitted ground unto the everlasting spring and hindered but a mound her warm return, if so she chose    and we    imploring drew    removed our invitation by as some she never knew    805 this bauble was preferred of bees    by butterflies admired at heavenly    hopeless distances    was justified of bird    did noon    enamel    in herself was summer to a score who only knew of universe    it had created her. 806 a planted life    diversified with gold and silver pain to prove the presence of the ore in particles    'tis when a value struggle    it exist    a power    will proclaim although annihilation pile whole chaoses on him    807 expectation    is contentment    gain    satiety    but satiety    conviction of necessity of an austere trait in pleasure    good, without alarm is a too established fortune    danger    deepens sum    808 so set its sun in thee what day be dark to me    what distance    far    so i the ships may see that touch    how seldomly    thy shore? 809 unable are the loved to die for love is immortality, nay, it is deity    unable they that love    to die for love reforms vitality into divinity. 810 her grace is all she has    and that, so least displays    one art to recognize, must be, another art, to praise. 811 the veins of other flowers the scarlet flowers are till nature leisure has for terms as "branch," and "jugular." we pass, and she abides. we conjugate her skill while she creates and federates without a syllable. 812 a light exists in spring not present on the year at any other period    when march is scarcely here a color stands abroad on solitary fields that science cannot overtake but human nature feels. it waits upon the lawn, it shows the furthest tree upon the furthest slope you know it almost speaks to you. then as horizons step or noons report away without the formula of sound it passes and we stay    a quality of loss affecting our content as trade had suddenly encroached upon a sacrament. 813 this quiet dust was gentleman and ladies and lads and girls    was laughter and ability and sighing and frocks and curls. this passive place a summer's nimble mansion where bloom and bees exists an oriental circuit then cease, like these    814 one day is there of the series termed thanksgiving day. celebrated part at table part in memory. neither patriarch nor pussy i dissect the play seems it to my hooded thinking reflex holiday. had there been no sharp subtraction from the early sum    not an acre or a caption where was once a room    not a mention, whose small pebble wrinkled any sea, unto such, were such assembly 'twere thanksgiving day. 815 the luxury to apprehend the luxury 'twould be to look at thee a single time an epicure of me in whatsoever presence makes till for a further food i scarcely recollect to starve so first am i supplied    the luxury to meditate the luxury it was to banguet on thy countenance a sumptuousness bestows on plainer days, whose table far as certainty can see is laden with a single crumb the consciousness of thee. 816 a death blow is a life blow to some who till they died, did not alive become    who had they lived, had died but when they died, vitality begun. 817 given in marriage unto thee oh thou celestial host    bride of the father and the son bride of the holy ghost. other betrothal shall dissolve    wedlock of will, decay    only the keeper of this ring conquer mortality    818 i could not drink it, sweet, till you had tasted first, though cooler than the water was the thoughtfullness of thirst. 819 all i may, if small, do it not display larger for the totalness    'tis economy to bestow a world and withhold a star    utmost, is munificence    less, tho' larger, poor. 820 all circumstances are the frame in which his face is set    all latitudes exist for his sufficient continent    the light his action, and the dark the leisure of his will    in him existence serve or set a force illegible. 821 away from home are some and i    an emigrant to be in a metropolis of homes is easy, possibly    the habit of a foreign sky we    difficult    acquire as children, who remain in face the more their feet retire. 822 this consciousness that is aware of neighbors and the sun will be the one aware of death and that itself alone is traversing the interval experience between and most profound experiment appointed unto men    how adequate unto itself its properties shall be itself unto itself and none shall make discovery. adventure most unto itself the soul condemned to be    attended by a single hound its own identity. 823 not that we did, shall be the test when act and will are done but what our lord infers we would had we diviner been    824 [first version] the wind begun to knead the grass    as women do a dough    he flung a hand full at the plain    a hand full at the sky    the leaves unhooked themselves from trees    and started all abroad    the dust did scoop itself like hands    and throw away the road    the wagons    quickened on the street    the thunders gossiped low    the lightning showed a yellow head    and then a livid toe    the birds put up the bars to nests    the cattle flung to barns    then came one drop of giant rain    and then, as if the hands that held the dams    had parted hold    the waters wrecked the sky    but overlooked my father's house    just quartering a tree    [second version] the wind begun to rock the grass with threatening tunes and low    he threw a menace at the earth    a menace at the sky. the leaves unhooked themselves from trees    and started all abroad the dust did scoop itself like hands and threw away the road. the wagons quickened on the streets the thunder hurried slow    the lightning showed a yellow beak and then a livid claw. the birds put up the bars to nests    the cattle fled to barns    there came one drop of giant rain and then as if the hands that held the dams had parted hold the waters wrecked the sky, but overlooked my father's house    just quartering a tree    825 an hour is a sea between a few, and me    with them would harbor be    826 love reckons by itself    alone    "as large as i"    relate the sun to one who never felt it blaze    itself is all the like it has    827 the only news i know is bulletins all day from immortality. the only shows i see    tomorrow and today    perchance eternity    the only one i meet is god    the only street    existence    this traversed if other news there be    or admirable show    i'll tell it you    828 the robin is the one that interrupt the morn with hurried    few    express reports when march is scarcely on    the robin is the one that overflow the noon with her cherubic quantity    an april but begun    the robin is the one that speechless from her nest submit that home    and certainty and sanctity, are best 829 ample make this bed    make this bed with awe    in it wait till judgment break excellent and fair. be its mattress straight    be its pillow round    let no sunrise' yellow noise interrupt this ground    830 to this world she returned. but with a tinge of that    a compound manner, as a sod espoused a violet, that chiefer to the skies than to himself, allied, dwelt hesitating, half of dust, and half of day, the bride. 831 dying! to be afraid of thee one must to thine artillery have left exposed a friend    than thine old arrow is a shot delivered straighter to the heart the leaving love behind. not for itself, the dust is shy, but, enemy, beloved be thy batteries divorce. fight sternly in a dying eye two armies, love and certainty and love and the reverse. 832 soto! explore thyself! therein thyself shalt find the "undiscovered continent"    no settler had the mind. 833 perhaps you think me stooping i'm not ashamed of that christ    stooped until he touched the grave    do those at sacrament commemorative dishonor or love annealed of love until it bend as low as death redignified, above? 834 before he comes we weigh the time! 'tis heavy and 'tis light. when he depart, an emptiness is the prevailing freight. 835 nature and god    i neither knew yet both so well knew me they startled, like executors of my identity. yet neither told    that i could learn    my secret as secure as herschel's private interest or mercury's affair    836 truth    is as old as god    his twin identity and will endure as long as he a co eternity    and perish on the day himself is borne away from mansion of the universe a lifeless deity. 837 how well i knew her not whom not to know has been a bounty in prospective, now next door to mine the pain. 838 impossibility, like wine exhilarates the man who tastes it; possibility is flavorless    combine a chance's faintest tincture and in the former dram enchantment makes ingredient as certainly as doom    839 always mine! no more vacation! term of light this day begun! failless as the fair rotation of the seasons and the sun. old the grace, but new the subjects    old, indeed, the east, yet upon his purple programme every dawn, is first. 840 i cannot buy it    'tis not sold    there is no other in the world    mine was the only one i was so happy i forgot to shut the door and it went out and i am all alone    if i could find it anywhere i would not mind the journey there though it took all my store but just to look it in the eye    "did'st thou?" "thou did'st not mean," to say, then, turn my face away. 841 a moth the hue of this haunts candles in brazil. nature's experience would make our reddest second pale. nature is fond, i sometimes think, of trinkets, as a girl. 842 good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! better, to be found, if one care to, that is, the fox fits the hound    good to know, and not tell, best, to know and tell, can one find the rare ear not too dull    843 i made slow riches but my gain was steady as the sun and every night, it numbered more than the preceding one all days, i did not earn the same but my perceiveless gain inferred the less by growing than the sum that it had grown. 844 spring is the period express from god. among the other seasons himself abide, but during march and april none stir abroad without a cordial interview with god. 845 be mine the doom    sufficient fame    to perish in her hand! 846 twice had summer her fair verdure proffered to the plain    twice a winter's silver fracture on the rivers been    two full autumns for the squirrel bounteous prepared    nature, had'st thou not a berry for thy wandering bird? 847 finite    to fail, but infinite to venture    for the one ship that struts the shore many's the gallant    overwhelmed creature nodding in navies nevermore    848 just as he spoke it from his hands this edifice remain    a turret more, a turret less dishonor his design    according as his skill prefer it perish, or endure    content, soe'er, it ornament his absent character. 849 the good will of a flower the man who would possess must first present certificate of minted holiness. 850 i sing to use the waiting my bonnet but to tie and shut the door unto my house no more to do have i till his best step approaching we journey to the day and tell each other how we sung to keep the dark away. 851 when the astronomer stops seeking for his pleiad's face    when the lone british lady forsakes the arctic race when to his covenant needle the sailor doubting turns    it will be amply early to ask what treason means. 852 apology for her be rendered by the bee    herself, without a parliament apology for me. 853 when one has given up one's life the parting with the rest feels easy, as when day lets go entirely the west the peaks, that lingered last remain in her regret as scarcely as the iodine upon the cataract. 854 banish air from air    divide light if you dare    they'll meet while cubes in a drop or pellets of shape fit films cannot annul odors return whole force flame and with a blonde push over your impotence flits steam. 855 to own the art within the soul the soul to entertain with silence as a company and festival maintain is an unfurnished circumstance possession is to one as an estate perpetual or a reduceless mine. 856 there is a finished feeling experienced at graves    a leisure of the future    a wilderness of size. by death's bold exhibition preciser what we are and the eternal function enabled to infer. 857 uncertain lease    develops lustre on time uncertain grasp, appreciation of sum    the shorter fate    is oftener the chiefest because inheritors upon a tenure prize    858 this chasm, sweet, upon my life i mention it to you, when sunrise through a fissure drop the day must follow too. if we demur, its gaping sides disclose as 'twere a tomb ourself am lying straight wherein the favorite of doom. when it has just contained a life then, darling, it will close and yet so bolder every day so turbulent it grows i'm tempted half to stitch it up with a remaining breath i should not miss in yielding, though to him, it would be death    and so i bear it big about my burial    before a life quite ready to depart can harass me no more    859 a doubt if it be us assists the staggering mind in an extremer anguish until it footing find. an unreality is lent, a merciful mirage that makes the living possible while it suspends the lives. 860 absence disembodies    so does death hiding individuals from the earth superposition helps, as well as love    tenderness decreases as we prove    861 split the lark    and you'll find the music    bulb after bulb, in silver rolled    scantilly dealt to the summer morning saved for your ear when lutes be old. loose the flood    you shall find it patent    gush after gush, reserved for you    scarlet experiment! sceptic thomas! now, do you doubt that your bird was true? 862 light is sufficient to itself    if others want to see it can be had on window panes some hours in the day. but not for compensation    it holds as large a glow to squirrel in the himmaleh precisely, as to you. 863 that distance was between us that is not of mile or main    the will it is that situates    equator    never can    864 the robin for the crumb returns no syllable but long records the lady's name in silver chronicle. 865 he outstripped time with but a bout, he outstripped stars and sun and then, unjaded, challenged god in presence of the throne. and he and he in mighty list unto this present, run, the larger glory for the less a just sufficient ring. 866 fame is the tine that scholars leave upon their setting names    the iris not of occident that disappears as comes    867 escaping backward to perceive the sea upon our place    escaping forward, to confront his glittering embrace    retreating up, a billow's height retreating blinded down our undermining feet to meet instructs to the divine. 868 they ask but our delight    the darlings of the soil and grant us all their countenance for a penurious smile. 869 because the bee may blameless hum for thee a bee do i become list even unto me. because the flowers unafraid may lift a look on thine, a maid alway a flower would be. nor robins, robins need not hide when thou upon their crypts intrude so wings bestow on me or petals, or a dower of buzz that bee to ride, or flower of furze i that way worship thee. 870 finding is the first act the second, loss, third, expedition for the "golden fleece" fourth, no discovery    fifth, no crew    finally, no golden fleece    jason    sham    too. 871 the sun and moon must make their haste    the stars express around for in the zones of paradise the lord alone is burned    his eye, it is the east and west    the north and south when he do concentrate his countenance like glow worms, flee away    oh poor and far    oh hindred eye that hunted for the day    the lord a candle entertains entirely for thee    872 as the starved maelstrom laps the navies as the vulture teased forces the broods in lonely valleys as the tiger eased by but a crumb of blood, fasts scarlet till he meet a man dainty adorned with veins and tissues and partakes    his tongue cooled by the morsel for a moment grows a fiercer thing till he esteem his dates and cocoa a nutrition mean i, of a finer famine deem my supper dry for but a berry of domingo and a torrid eye. 873 ribbons of the year    multitude brocade    worn to nature's party once then, as flung aside as a faded bead or a wrinkled pearl who shall charge the vanity of the maker's girl? 874 they won't frown always    some sweet day when i forget to tease    they'll recollect how cold i looked and how i just said "please." then they will hasten to the door to call the little girl who cannot thank them for the ice that filled the lisping full. 875 i stepped from plank to plank a slow and cautious way the stars about my head i felt about my feet the sea. i knew not but the next would be my final inch    this gave me that precarious gait some call experience. 876 it was a grave, yet bore no stone enclosed 'twas not of rail a consciousness its acre, and it held a human soul. entombed by whom, for what offence if home or foreign born    had i the curiosity 'twere not appeased of men till resurrection, i must guess denied the small desire a rose upon its ridge to sow or take away a briar. 877 each scar i'll keep for him instead i'll say of gem in his long absence worn a costlier one but every tear i bore were he to count them o'er his own would fall so more i'll mis sum them. 878 the sun is gay or stark according to our deed. if merry, he is merrier    if eager for the dead or an expended day he helped to make too bright his mighty pleasure suits us not it magnifies our freight 879 each second is the last perhaps, recalls the man just measuring unconsciousness the sea and spar between. to fail within a chance    how terribler a thing than perish from the chance's list before the perishing! 880 the bird must sing to earn the crumb what merit have the tune no breakfast if it guaranty the rose content may bloom to gain renown of lady's drawer but if the lady come but once a century, the rose superfluous become    881 i've none to tell me to but thee so when thou failest, nobody. it was a little tie    it just held two, nor those it held since somewhere thy sweet face has spilled beyond my boundary    if things were opposite    and me and me it were    that ebbed from thee on some unanswering shore    would'st thou seek so    just say that i the answer may pursue unto the lips it eddied through    so    overtaking thee    882 a shade upon the mind there passes as when on noon a cloud the mighty sun encloses remembering that some there be too numb to notice oh god why give if thou must take away the loved? 883 the poets light but lamps    themselves    go out    the wicks they stimulate    if vital light inhere as do the suns    each age a lens disseminating their circumference    884 as everywhere of silver with ropes of sand to keep it from effacing the track called land. 885 our little kinsmen    after rain in plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude the tepid ground upon. a needless life, it seemed to me until a little bird as to a hospitality advanced and breakfasted. as i of he, so god of me i pondered, may have judged, and left the little angle worm with modesties enlarged. 886 these tested our horizon    then disappeared as birds before achieving a latitude. our retrospection of them a fixed delight, but our anticipation a dice    a doubt    887 we outgrow love, like other things and put it in the drawer    till it an antique fashion shows    like costumes grandsires wore. 888 when i have seen the sun emerge from his amazing house    and leave a day at every door a deed, in every place    without the incident of fame or accident of noise    the earth has seemed to me a drum, pursued of little boys 889 crisis is a hair toward which the forces creep past which forces retrograde if it come in sleep to suspend the breath is the most we can ignorant is it life or death nicely balancing. let an instant push or an atom press or a circle hesitate in circumference it    may jolt the hand that adjusts the hair that secures eternity from presenting    here    890 from us she wandered now a year, her tarrying, unknown, if wilderness prevent her feet or that ethereal zone no eye hath seen and lived we ignorant must be    we only know what time of year we took the mystery. 891 to my quick ear the leaves    conferred    the bushes    they were bells    i could not find a privacy from nature's sentinels    in cave if i presumed to hide the walls    begun to tell    creation seemed a mighty crack    to make me visible    892 who occupies this house? a stranger i must judge since no one know his circumstance    'tis well the name and age are writ upon the door or i should fear to pause where not so much as honest dog approach encourages. it seems a curious town    some houses very old, some    newly raised this afternoon, were i compelled to build it should not be among inhabitants so still but where the birds assemble and boys were possible. before myself was born 'twas settled, so they say, a territory for the ghosts    and squirrels, formerly. until a pioneer, as settlers often do liking the quiet of the place attracted more unto    and from a settlement a capital has grown distinguished for the gravity of every citizen. the owner of this house a stranger he must be    eternity's acquaintances are mostly so    to me. 893 drab habitation of whom? tabernacle or tomb    or dome of worm    or porch of gnome    or some elf's catacomb? 894 of consciousness, her awful mate the soul cannot be rid    as easy the secreting her behind the eyes of god. the deepest hid is sighted first and scant to him the crowd    what triple lenses burn upon the escapade from god    895 a cloud withdrew from the sky superior glory be but that cloud and its auxiliaries are forever lost to me had i but further scanned had i secured the glow in an hermetic memory it had availed me now. never to pass the angel with a glance and a bow till i am firm in heaven is my intention now. 896 of silken speech and specious shoe a traitor is the bee his service to the newest grace present continually his suit a chance his troth a term protracted as the breeze continual ban propoundeth he continual divorce. 897 how fortunate the grave    all prizes to obtain    successful certain, if at last, first suitor not in vain. 898 how happy i was if i could forget to remember how sad i am would be an easy adversity but the recollecting of bloom keeps making november difficult till i who was almost bold lose my way like a little child and perish of the cold. 899 herein a blossom lies    a sepulchre, between    cross it, and overcome the bee    remain    'tis but a rind. 900 what did they do since i saw them? were they industrious? so many questions to put them have i the eagerness that could i snatch their faces that could their lips reply not till the last was answered should they start for the sky. not if their party were waiting, not if to talk with me were to them now, homesickness after eternity. not if the just suspect me and offer a reward would i restore my booty to that bold person, god    901 sweet, to have had them lost for news that they be saved    the nearer they departed us the nearer they, restored, shall stand to our right hand    most precious and the dead    next precious those that rose to go    then thought of us, and stayed. 902 the first day that i was a life i recollect it    how still    that last day that i was a life i recollect it    as well    'twas stiller    though the first was still    "twas empty    but the first was full    this    was my finallest occasion    but then my tenderer experiment toward men    "which choose i"? that    i cannot say    "which choose they"? question memory! 903 i hide myself within my flower, that fading from your vase, you, unsuspecting, feel for me    almost a loneliness. 904 had i not this, or this, i said, appealing to myself, in moment of prosperity    inadequate    were life    "thou hast not me, nor me"    it said, in moment of reverse    "and yet thou art industrious    no need    hadst thou    of us"? my need    was all i had    i said    the need did not reduce    because the food    exterminate    the hunger    does not cease    but diligence    is sharper    proportioned to the chance    to feed upon the retrograde    enfeebles    the advance    905 between my country    and the others    there is a sea    but flowers    negotiate between us    as ministry. 906 the admirations    and contempts    of time    show justest    through an open tomb    the dying    as it were a height reorganizes estimate and what we saw not we distinguish clear    and mostly    see not what we saw before    'tis compound vision    light    enabling light    the finite    furnished with the infinite    convex    and concave witness    back    toward time    and forward    toward the god of him    907 till death    is narrow loving    the scantest heart extant will hold you till your privilege of finiteness    be spent    but he whose loss procures you such destitution that your life too abject for itself thenceforward imitate    until    resemblance perfect    yourself, for his pursuit delight of nature    abdicate    exhibit love    somewhat    908 'tis sunrise    little maid    hast thou no station in the day? 'twas not thy wont, to hinder so    retrieve thine industry    'tis noon    my little maid    alas    and art thou sleeping yet? the lily    waiting to be wed    the bee    hast thou forgot? my little maid    'tis night    alas that night should be to thee instead of morning    had'st thou broached thy little plan to die    dissuade thee, if i could not, sweet, i might have aided    thee    909 i make his crescent fill or lack    his nature is at full or quarter    as i signify    his tides    do i control    he holds superior in the sky or gropes, at my command behind inferior clouds    or round a mist's slow colonnade    but since we hold a mutual disc    and front a mutual day    which is the despot, neither knows    nor whose    the tyranny    910 experience is the angled road preferred against the mind by    paradox    the mind itself    presuming it to lead quite opposite    how complicate the discipline of man    compelling him to choose himself his preappointed pain    911 too little way the house must lie from every human heart that holds in undisputed lease a white inhabitant    too narrow is the right between    too imminent the chance    each consciousness must emigrate and lose its neighbor once    912 peace is a fiction of our faith    the bells a winter night bearing the neighbor out of sound that never did alight. 913 and this of all my hopes this, is the silent end bountiful colored, my morning rose early and sere, its end never bud from a stem stepped with so gay a foot never a worm so confident bored at so brave a root 914 i cannot be ashamed because i cannot see the love you offer    magnitude reverses modesty and i cannot be proud because a height so high involves alpine requirements and services of snow. 915 faith    is the pierless bridge supporting what we see unto the scene that we do not    too slender for the eye it bears the soul as bold as it were rocked in steel with arms of steel at either side    it joins    behind the veil to what, could we presume the bridge would cease to be to our far, vacillating feet a first necessity. 916 his feet are shod with gauze    his helmet, is of gold, his breast, a single onyx with chrysophrase, inlaid. his labor is a chant    his idleness    a tune    oh, for a bee's experience of clovers, and of noon! 917 love    is anterior to life    posterior    to death    initial of creation, and the exponent of earth    918 only a shrine, but mine    i made the taper shine    madonna dim, to whom all feet may come, regard a nun    thou knowest every woe    needless to tell thee    so    but can'st thou do the grace next to it    heal? that looks a harder skill to us    still    just as easy, if it be thy will to thee    grant me    thou knowest, though, so why tell thee? 919 if i can stop one heart from breaking i shall not live in vain if i can ease one life the aching or cool one pain or help one fainting robin unto his nest again i shall not live in vain. 920 we can but follow to the sun    as oft as he go down he leave ourselves a sphere behind    'tis mostly    following    we go no further with the dust than to the earthen door    and then the panels are reversed    and we behold    no more. 921 if it had no pencil would it try mine    worn    now    and dull    sweet, writing much to thee. if it had no word, would it make the daisy, most as big as i was, when it plucked me? 922 those who have been in the grave the longest    those who begin today    equally perish from our practise    death is the other way    foot of the bold did least attempt it    it    is the white exploit    once to achieve, annuls the power once to communicate    923 how the waters closed above him we shall never know    how he stretched his anguish to us that    is covered too    spreads the pond her base of lilies bold above the boy whose unclaimed hat and jacket sum the history    924 love    is that later thing than death    more previous    than life    confirms it at its entrance    and usurps it    of itself    tastes death    the first    to hand the sting the second    to its friend    disarms the little interval    deposits him with god    then hovers    an inferior guard    lest this beloved charge need    once in an eternity    a smaller than the large    925 struck, was i, not yet by lightning    lightning    lets away power to perceive his process with vitality. maimed    was i    yet not by venture    stone of stolid boy    nor a sportsman's peradventure    who mine enemy? robbed    was i    intact to bandit    all my mansion torn    sun    withdrawn to recognition    furthest shining    done    yet was not the foe    of any    not the smallest bird in the nearest orchard dwelling be of me    afraid. most    i love the cause that slew me. often as i die its beloved recognition holds a sun on me    best    at setting    as is nature's    neither witnessed rise till the infinite aurora in the other's eyes. 926 patience    has a quiet outer    patience    look within    is an insect's futile forces infinites    between    'scaping one    against the other fruitlesser to fling    patience    is the smile's exertion through the quivering    927 absent place    an april day    daffodils a blow homesick curiosity to the souls that snow    drift may block within it deeper than without    daffodil delight but him it duplicate    928 the heart has narrow banks it measures like the sea in mighty    unremitting bass and blue monotony till hurricane bisect and as itself discerns its sufficient area the heart convulsive learns that calm is but a wall of unattempted gauze an instant's push demolishes a questioning    dissolves. 929 how far is it to heaven? as far as death this way    of river or of ridge beyond was no discovery. how far is it to hell? as far as death this way    how far left hand the sepulchre defies topography. 930 there is a june when corn is cut and roses in the seed    a summer briefer than the first but tenderer indeed as should a face supposed the grave's emerge a single noon in the vermilion that it wore affect us, and return    two seasons, it is said, exist    the summer of the just, and this of ours, diversified with prospect, and with frost    may not our second with its first so infinite compare that we but recollect the one the other to prefer? 931 noon    is the hinge of day    evening    the tissue door    morning    the east compelling the sill till all the world is ajar    932 my best acquaintances are those with whom i spoke no word    the stars that stated come to town esteemed me never rude although to their celestial call i failed to make reply    my constant    reverential face sufficient courtesy. 933 two travellers perishing in snow the forests as they froze together heard them strengthening each other with the words that heaven if heaven    must contain what either left behind and then the cheer too solemn grew for language, and the wind long steps across the features took that love had touched the morn with reverential hyacinth    the taleless days went on till mystery impatient drew and those they left behind led absent, were procured of heaven as those first furnished, said    934 that is solemn we have ended be it but a play or a glee among the garret or a holiday or a leaving home, or later, parting with a world we have understood for better still to be explained. 935 death leaves us homesick, who behind, except that it is gone are ignorant of its concern as if it were not born. through all their former places, we like individuals go who something lost, the seeking for is all that's left them, now    936 this dust, and its feature    accredited    today    will in a second future    cease to identify    this mind, and its measure    a too minute area for its enlarged inspection's comparison    appear    this world, and its species a too concluded show for its absorbed attention's remotest scrutiny    937 i felt a cleaving in my mind    as if my brain had split    i tried to match it    seam by seam    but could not make it fit. the thought behind, i strove to join unto the thought before    but sequence ravelled out of sound like balls    upon a floor. 938 fairer through fading    as the day into the darkness dips away    half her complexion of the sun    hindering    haunting    perishing    rallies her glow, like a dying friend    teasing with glittering amend    only to aggravate the dark through an expiring    perfect    look    939 what i see not, i better see    through faith    my hazel eye has periods of shutting    but, no lid has memory    for frequent, all my sense obscured i equally behold as someone held a light unto the features so beloved     and i arise    and in my dream    do thee distinguished grace    till jealous daylight interrupt    and mar thy perfectness    940 on that dear frame the years had worn yet precious as the house in which we first experienced light the witnessing, to us    precious! it was conceiveless fair as hands the grave had grimed should softly place within our own denying that they died. 941 the lady feeds her little bird at rarer intervals    the little bird would not dissent but meekly recognize the gulf between the hand and her and crumbless and afar and fainting, on her yellow knee fall softly, and adore    942 snow beneath whose chilly softness some that never lay make their first repose this winter i admonish thee blanket wealthier the neighbor we so new bestow than thine acclimated creature wilt thou, austere snow? 943 a coffin    is a small domain, yet able to contain a citizen of paradise in it diminished plane. a grave    is a restricted breadth    yet ampler than the sun    and all the seas he populates and lands he looks upon to him who on its small repose bestows a single friend    circumference without relief    or estimate    or end    944 i learned    at least    what home could be    how ignorant i had been of pretty ways of covenant    how awkward at the hymn round our new fireside    but for this    this pattern    of the way    whose memory drowns me, like the dip of a celestial sea    what mornings in our garden    guessed    what bees    for us    to hum    with only birds to interrupt the ripple of our theme    and task for both    when play be done    your problem    of the brain    and mine    some foolisher effect    a ruffle    or a tune    the afternoons    together spent    and twilight    in the lanes    some ministry to poorer lives    seen poorest    thro' our gains    and then return    and night    and home    and then away to you to pass    a new    diviner    care    till sunrise take us back to scene    transmuted    vivider    this seems a home    and home is not    but what that place could be    afflicts me    as a setting sun    where dawn    knows how to be    945 this is a blossom of the brain    a small    italic seed lodged by design or happening the spirit fructified    shy as the wind of his chambers swift as a freshet's tongue so of the flower of the soul its process is unknown. when it is found, a few rejoice the wise convey it home carefully cherishing the spot if other flower become. when it is lost, that day shall be the funeral of god, upon his breast, a closing soul the flower of our lord. 946 it is an honorable thought and make one lift one's hat as one met sudden gentlefolk upon a daily street that we've immortal place though pyramids decay and kingdoms, like the orchard flit russetly away 947 of tolling bell i ask the cause? "a soul has gone to heaven" i'm answered in a lonesome tone    is heaven then a prison? that bells should ring till all should know a soul had gone to heaven would seem to me the more the way a good news should be given. 948 'twas crisis    all the length had passed    that dull    benumbing time there is in fever or event    and now the chance had come    the instant holding in its claw the privilege to live or warrant to report the soul the other side the grave. the muscles grappled as with leads that would not let the will    the spirit shook the adamant    but could not make it feel. the second poised    debated    shot    another had begun    and simultaneously, a soul escaped the house unseen    949 under the light, yet under, under the grass and the dirt, under the beetle's cellar under the clover's root, further than arm could stretch were it giant long, further than sunshine could were the day year long, over the light, yet over, over the arc of the bird    over the comet's chimney    over the cubit's head, further than guess can gallop further than riddle ride    oh for a disc to the distance between ourselves and the dead! 950 the sunset stopped on cottages where sunset hence must be for treason not of his, but life's, gone westerly, today    the sunset stopped on cottages where morning just begun    what difference, after all, thou mak'st thou supercilious sun? 951 as frost is best conceived by force of its result    affliction is inferred by subsequent effect    if when the sun reveal, the garden keep the gash    if as the days resume the wilted countenance cannot correct the crease or counteract the stain    presumption is vitality was somewhere put in twain. 952 a man may make a remark    in itself    a quiet thing that may furnish the fuse unto a spark in dormant nature    lain    let us deport    with skill    let us discourse    with care    powder exists in charcoal    before it exists in fire. 953 a door just opened on a street    i    lost    was passing by    an instant's width of warmth disclosed    and wealth    and company. the door as instant shut    and i    i    lost    was passing by    lost doubly    but by contrast    most    informing    misery    954 the chemical conviction that nought be lost enable in disaster my fractured trust    the faces of the atoms if i shall see how more the finished creatures departed me! 955 the hollows round his eager eyes were pages where to read pathetic histories    although himself had not complained. biography to all who passed of unobtrusive pain except for the italic face endured, unhelped    unknown. 956 what shall i do when the summer troubles    what, when the rose is ripe    what when the eggs fly off in music from the maple keep? what shall i do when the skies a'chirrup drop a tune on me    when the bee hangs all noon in the buttercup what will become of me? oh, when the squirrel fills his pockets and the berries stare how can i bear their jocund faces thou from here, so far? 'twouldn't afflict a robin    all his goods have wings    i    do not fly, so wherefore my perennial things? 957 as one does sickness over in convalescent mind, his scrutiny of chances by blessed health obscured    as one rewalks a precipice and whittles at the twig that held him from perdition sown sidewise in the crag a custom of the soul far after suffering identity to question for evidence't has been    958 we met as sparks    diverging flints sent various    scattered ways    we parted as the central flint were cloven with an adze    subsisting on the light we bore before we felt the dark    a flint unto this day    perhaps    but for that single spark. 959 a loss of something ever felt i    the first that i could recollect bereft i was    of what i knew not too young that any should suspect a mourner walked among the children i notwithstanding went about as one bemoaning a dominion itself the only prince cast out    elder, today, a session wiser and fainter, too, as wiseness is    i find myself still softly searching for my delinguent palaces    and a suspicion, like a finger touches my forehead now and then that i am looking oppositely for the site of the kingdom of heaven    960 as plan for noon and plan for night so differ life and death in positive prospective    the foot upon the earth at distance, and achievement, strains, the foot upon the grave makes effort at conclusion assisted faint of love. 961 wert thou but ill    that i might show thee how long a day i could endure though thine attention stop not on me nor the least signal, me assure    wert thou but stranger in ungracious country    and mine    the door thou paused at, for a passing bounty    no more    accused    wert thou    and myself    tribunal    convicted    sentenced    ermine    not to me half the condition, thy reverse    to follow    just to partake    the infamy    the tenant of the narrow cottage, wert thou    permit to be the housewife in thy low attendance contenteth me    no service hast thou, i would not achieve it    to die    or live    the first    sweet, proved i, ere i saw thee    for life    be love    962 midsummer, was it, when they died    a full, and perfect time    the summer closed upon itself in consummated bloom    the corn, her furthest kernel filled before the coming flail    when these    leaned unto perfectness    through haze of burial    963 a nearness to tremendousness    an agony procures    affliction ranges boundlessness    vicinity to laws contentment's quiet suburb    affliction cannot stay in acres    its location is illocality    964 "unto me?" i do not know you    where may be your house? "i am jesus    late of judea    now    of paradise"    wagons    have you    to convey me? this is far from thence    "arms of mine    sufficient phaeton    trust omnipotence"    i am spotted    "i am pardon"    i am small    "the least is esteemed in heaven the chiefest    occupy my house"    965 denial    is the only fact perceived by the denied    whose will    a numb significance    the day the heaven died    and all the earth strove common round    without delight, or beam    what comfort was it wisdom    was    the spoiler of our home? 966 all forgot for recollecting just a paltry one    all forsook, for just a stranger's new accompanying    grace of wealth, and grace of station less accounted than an unknown esteem possessing    estimate    who can    home effaced    her faces dwindled    nature    altered small    sun    if shone    or storm    if shattered    overlooked i all    dropped    my fate    a timid pebble    in thy bolder sea    prove    me    sweet    if i regret it    prove myself    of thee    967 pain    expands the time    ages coil within the minute circumference of a single brain    pain contracts    the time    occupied with shot gamuts of eternities are as they were not    968 fitter to see him, i may be for the long hindrance    grace    to me    with summers, and with winters, grow, some passing year    a trait bestow to make me fairest of the earth    the waiting    then    will seem so worth i shall impute with half a pain the blame that i was chosen    then    time to anticipate his gaze    it's first    delight    and then    surprise    the turning o'er and o'er my face for evidence it be the grace    he left behind one day    so less he seek conviction, that    be this    i only must not grow so new that he'll mistake    and ask for me of me    when first unto the door i go    to elsewhere go no more    i only must not change so fair he'll sigh    "the other    she    is where?" the love, tho', will array me right i shall be perfect    in his sight    if he perceive the other truth    upon an excellenter youth    how sweet i shall not lack in vain    but gain    thro' loss    through grief    obtain    the beauty that reward him best    the beauty of demand    at rest    969 he who in himself believes    fraud cannot presume    faith is constancy's result    and assumes    from home    cannot perish, though it fail every second time    but defaced vicariously    for some other shame    970 color    caste    denomination    these    are time's affair    death's diviner classifying does not know they are    as in sleep    all hue forgotten    tenets    put behind    death's large    democratic fingers rub away the brand    if circassian    he is careless    if he put away chrysalis of blonde    or umber    equal butterfly    they emerge from his obscuring    what death    knows so well    our minuter intuitions    deem unplausible    971 robbed by death    but that was easy    to the failing eye i could hold the latest glowing    robbed by liberty for her jugular defences    this, too, i endured    hint of glory    it afforded    for the brave beloved    fraud of distance    fraud of danger, fraud of death    to bear    it is bounty    to suspense's vague calamity    stalking our entire possession on a hair's result    then    seesawing    coolly    on it    trying if it split    972 unfulfilled to observation    incomplete    to eye    but to faith    a revolution in locality    unto us    the suns extinguish    to our opposite    new horizons    they embellish    fronting us    with night. 973 'twas awkward, but it fitted me    an ancient fashioned heart    its only lore    its steadfastness    in change    unerudite    it only moved as do the suns    for merit of return    or birds    confirmed perpetual by alternating zone    i only have it not tonight in its established place    for technicality of death    omitted in the lease    974 the soul's distinct connection with immortality is best disclosed by danger or quick calamity    as lightning on a landscape exhibits sheets of place    not yet suspected    but for flash    and click    and suddenness. 975 the mountain sat upon the plain in his tremendous chair    his observation omnifold, his inquest, everywhere    the seasons played around his knees like children round a sire    grandfather of the days is he of dawn, the ancestor    976 death is a dialogue between the spirit and the dust. "dissolve" says death    the spirit "sir i have another trust"    death doubts it    argues from the ground    the spirit turns away just laying off for evidence an overcoat of clay. 977 besides this may we know there is another    how fair our speculations of the foreigner! some know him whom we knew    sweet wonder    a nature be where saints, and our plain going neighbor keep may! 978 it bloomed and dropt, a single noon    the flower    distinct and red    i, passing, thought another noon another in its stead will equal glow, and thought no more but came another day to find the species disappeared    the same locality    the sun in place    no other fraud on nature's perfect sum    had i but lingered yesterday    was my retrieveless blame    much flowers of this and further zones have perished in my hands for seeking its resemblance    but unapproached it stands    the single flower of the earth that i, in passing by unconscious was    great nature's face passed infinite by me    979 this merit hath the worst    it cannot be again    when fate hath taunted last and thrown her furthest stone    the maimed may pause, and breathe, and glance securely round    the deer attracts no further than it resists    the hound    980 purple    is fashionable twice    this season of the year, and when a soul perceives itself to be an emperor. 981 as sleigh bells seem in summer or bees, at christmas show    so fairy    so fictitious the individuals do repealed from observation    a party that we knew    more distant in an instant than dawn in timbuctoo. 982 no other can reduce our mortal consequence like the remembering it be nought a period from hence but contemplation for contemporaneous nought our single competition jehovah's estimate. 983 ideals are the fairly oil with which we help the wheel but when the vital axle turns the eye rejects the oil. 984 'tis anguish grander than delight 'tis resurrection pain    the meeting bands of smitten face we questioned to, again. 'tis transport wild as thrills the graves when cerements let go and creatures clad in miracle go up by two and two. 985 the missing all    prevented me from missing minor things. if nothing larger than a world's departure from a hinge    or sun's extinction, be observed    'twas not so large that i could lift my forehead from my work for curiosity. 986 a narrow fellow in the grass occasionally rides    you may have met him    did you not his notice sudden is    the grass divides as with a comb    a spotted shaft is seen    and then it closes at your feet and opens further on    he likes a boggy acre a floor too cool for corn    yet when a boy, and barefoot    i more than once at noon have passed, i thought, a whip lash unbraiding in the sun when stooping to secure it it wrinkled, and was gone    several of nature's people i know, and they know me    i feel for them a transport of cordiality    but never met this fellow attended, or alone without a tighter breathing and zero at the bone    987 the leaves like women interchange exclusive confidence    somewhat of nods and somewhat portentous inference. the parties in both cases enjoining secrecy    inviolable compact to notoriety. 988 the definition of beauty is that definition is none    of heaven, easing analysis, since heaven and he are one. 989 gratitude    is not the mention of a tenderness, but its still appreciation out of plumb of speech. when the sea return no answer by the line and lead proves it there's no sea, or rather a remoter bed? 990 not all die early, dying young    maturity of fate is consummated equally in ages, or a night    a hoary boy, i've known to drop whole statured    by the side of junior of fourscore    'twas act not period    that died. 991 she sped as petals of a rose offended by the wind    a frail aristocrat of time indemnity to find    leaving on nature    a default as cricket or as bee    but andes in the bosoms where she had begun to lie    992 the dust behind i strove to join unto the disk before    but sequence ravelled out of sound like balls upon a floor    993 we miss her, not because we see    the absence of an eye    except its mind accompany abridge society as slightly as the routes of stars    ourselves    asleep below    we know that their superior eyes include us    as they go    994 partake as doth the bee, abstemiously. the rose is an estate    in sicily. 995 this was in the white of the year    that    was in the green    drifts were as difficult then to think as daisies now to be seen    looking back is best that is left or if it be    before    retrospection is prospect's half, sometimes, almost more. 996 we'll pass without the parting so to spare certificate of absence    deeming where i left her i could find her if i tried    this way, i keep from missing those that died. 997 crumbling is not an instant's act a fundamental pause dilapidation's processes are organized decays. 'tis first a cobweb on the soul a cuticle of dust a borer in the axis an elemental rust    ruin is formal    devil's work consecutive and slow    fail in an instant, no man did slipping    is crash's law. 998 best things dwell out of sight the pearl    the just    our thought. most shun the public air legitimate, and rare    the capsule of the wind the capsule of the mind exhibit here, as doth a burr    germ's germ be where? 999 superfluous were the sun when excellence be dead he were superfluous every day for every day be said that syllable whose faith just saves it from despair and whose "i'll meet you" hesitates if love inquire "where"? upon his dateless fame our periods may lie as stars that drop anonymous from an abundant sky. 1000 the fingers of the light tapped soft upon the town with "i am great and cannot wait so therefore let me in." "you're soon," the town replied, "my faces are asleep    but swear, and i will let you by, you will not wake them up." the easy guest complied but once within the town the transport of his countenance awakened maid and man the neighbor in the pool upon his hip elate made loud obeisance and the gnat held up his cup for light. 1001 the stimulus, beyond the grave his countenance to see supports me like imperial drams afforded day by day. 1002 aurora is the effort of the celestial face unconsciousness of perfectness to simulate, to us. 1003 dying at my music! bubble! bubble! hold me till the octave's run! quick! burst the windows! ritardando! phials left, and the sun! 1004 there is no silence in the earth    so silent as that endured which uttered, would discourage nature and haunt the world. 1005 bind me    i still can sing    banish    my mandolin strikes true within    slay    and my soul shall rise chanting to paradise    still thine. 1006 the first we knew of him was death    the second    was    renown    except the first had justified the second had not been. 1007 falsehood of thee could i suppose 'twould undermine the sill to which my faith pinned block by block her cedar citadel. 1008 how still the bells in steeples stand till swollen with the sky they leap upon their silver feet in frantic melody! 1009 i was a phoebe    nothing more    a phoebe    nothing less    the little note that others dropt i fitted into place    i dwelt too low that any seek    too shy, that any blame    a phoebe makes a little print upon the floors of fame    1010 up life's hill with my my little bundle if i prove it steep    if a discouragement withhold me    if my newest step older feel than the hope that prompted    spotless be from blame heart that proposed as heart that accepted homelessness, for home    1011 she rose as high as his occasion then sought the dust    and lower lay in low westminster for her brief crest    1012 which is best? heaven    or only heaven to come with that old codicil of doubt? i cannot help esteem the "bird within the hand" superior to the one the "bush" may yield me or may not too late to choose again. 1013 too scanty 'twas to die for you, the merest greek could that. the living, sweet, is costlier    i offer even that    the dying, is a trifle, past, but living, this include the dying multifold    without the respite to be dead. 1014 did we abolish frost the summer would not cease    if seasons perish or prevail is optional with us    1015 were it but me that gained the height    were it but they, that failed! how many things the dying play might they but live, they would! 1016 the hills in purple syllables the day's adventures tell to little groups of continents just going home from school. 1017 to die    without the dying and live    without the life this is the hardest miracle propounded to belief. 1018 who saw no sunrise cannot say the countenance 'twould be. who guess at seeing, guess at loss of the ability. the emigrant of light, it is afflicted for the day. the blindness that beheld and blest    and could not find its eye. 1019 my season's furthest flower    i tenderer commend because i found her kinsmanless, a grace without a friend. 1020 trudging to eden, looking backward, i met somebody's little boy asked him his name    he lisped me "trotwood"    lady, did he belong to thee? would it comfort    to know i met him    and that he didn't look afraid? i couldn't weep    for so many smiling new acquaintance    this baby made    1021 far from love the heavenly father leads the chosen child, oftener through realm of briar than the meadow mild. oftener by the claw of dragon than the hand of friend guides the little one predestined to the native land. 1022 i knew that i had gained and yet i knew not how by diminution it was not but discipline unto a rigor unrelieved except by the content another bear its duplicate in other continent. 1023 it rises    passes    on our south inscribes a simple noon    cajoles a moment with the spires and infinite is gone    1024 so large my will the little that i may embarrasses like gentle infamy    affront to him for whom the whole were small affront to me who know his meed of all. earth at the best is but a scanty toy    bought, carried home to immortality. it looks so small we chiefly wonder then at our conceit in purchasing. 1025 the products of my farm are these sufficient for my own and here and there a benefit unto a neighbor's bin. with us, 'tis harvest all the year for when the frosts begin we just reverse the zodiac and fetch the acres in. 1026 the dying need but little, dear, a glass of water's all, a flower's unobtrusive face to punctuate the wall, a fan, perhaps, a friend's regret and certainty that one no color in the rainbow perceive, when you are gone. 1027 my heart upon a little plate her palate to delight a berry or a bun, would be, might it an apricot! 1028 'twas my one glory    let it be remembered i was owned of thee    1029 nor mountain hinder me nor sea    who's baltic    who's cordillera? 1030 that such have died enable us the tranquiller to die    that such have lived, certificate for immortality. 1031 fate slew him, but he did not drop    she felled    he did not fall    impaled him on her fiercest stakes    he neutralized them all    she stung him    sapped his firm advance    but when her worst was done and he    unmoved regarded her    acknowledged him a man. 1032 who is the east? the yellow man who may be purple if he can that carries in the sun. who is the west? the purple man who may be yellow if he can that lets him out again. 1033 said death to passion "give of thine an acre unto me." said passion, through contracting breaths "a thousand times thee nay." bore death from passion all his east he    sovereign as the sun resituated in the west and the debate was done. 1034 his bill an auger is his head, a cap and frill he laboreth at every tree a worm, his utmost goal. 1035 bee! i'm expecting you! was saying yesterday to somebody you know that you were due    the frogs got home last week    are settled, and at work    birds, mostly back    the clover warm and thick    you'll get my letter by the seventeenth; reply or better, be with me    yours, fly. 1036 satisfaction    is the agent of satiety    want    a quiet commissary for infinity. to possess, is past the instant we achieve the joy    immortality contented were anomaly. 1037 here, where the daisies fit my head 'tis easiest to lie and every grass that plays outside is sorry, some, for me. where i am not afraid to go i may confide my flower    who was not enemy of me will gentle be, to her. nor separate, herself and me by distances become    a single bloom we constitute departed, or at home    1038 her little parasol to lift and once to let it down her whole responsibility    to imitate be mine. a summer further i must wear, content if nature's drawer present me from sepulchral crease as blemishless, as her. 1039 i heard, as if i had no ear until a vital word came all the way from life to me and then i knew i heard. i saw, as if my eye were on another, till a thing and now i know 'twas light, because it fitted them, came in. i dwelt, as if myself, were out, my body but within until a might detected me and set my kernel in. and spirit turned unto the dust "old friend, thou knowest me," and time went out to tell the news and met eternity. 1040 not so the infinite relations    below division is adhesion's forfeit    on high affliction but a speculation    and woe a fallacy, a figment, we knew    1041 somewhat, to hope for, be it ne'er so far is capital against despair    somewhat, to suffer, be it ne'er so keen    if terminable, may be borne. 1042 spring comes on the world    i sight the aprils    hueless to me until thou come as, till the bee blossoms stand negative, touched to conditions by a hum. 1043 lest this be heaven indeed an obstacle is given that always gauges a degree between ourself and heaven. 1044 a sickness of this world it most occasions when best men die. a wishfulness their far condition to occupy. a chief indifference, as foreign a world must be themselves forsake    contented, for deity. 1045 nature rarer uses yellow than another hue. saves she all of that for sunsets prodigal of blue spending scarlet, like a woman yellow she affords only scantly and selectly like a lover's words. 1046 i've dropped my brain    my soul is numb    the veins that used to run stop palsied    'tis paralysis done perfecter on stone vitality is carved and cool. my nerve in marble lies    a breathing woman yesterday    endowed with paradise. not dumb    i had a sort that moved    a sense that smote and stirred    instincts for dance    a caper part    an aptitude for bird    who wrought carrara in me and chiselled all my tune were it a witchcraft    were it death    i've still a chance to strain to being, somewhere    motion    breath    though centuries beyond, and every limit a decade    i'll shiver, satisfied. 1047 the opening and the close of being, are alike or differ, if they do, as bloom upon a stalk. that from an equal seed unto an equal bud go parallel, perfected in that they have decayed. 1048 reportless subjects, to the quick continual addressed    but foreign as the dialect of danes, unto the rest. reportless measures, to the ear susceptive    stimulus    but like an oriental tale to others, fabulous    1049 pain has but one acquaintance and that is death    each one unto the other society enough. pain is the junior party by just a second's right    death tenderly assists him and then absconds from sight. 1050 as willing lid o'er weary eye the evening on the day leans till of all our nature's house remains but balcony 1051 i cannot meet the spring unmoved    i feel the old desire    a hurry with a lingering, mixed, a warrant to be fair    a competition in my sense with something hid in her    and as she vanishes, remorse i saw no more of her. 1052 i never saw a moor    i never saw the sea    yet know i how the heather looks and what a billow be. i never spoke with god nor visited in heaven    yet certain am i of the spot as if the checks were given    1053 it was a quiet way    he asked if i was his    i made no answer of the tongue but answer of the eyes    and then he bore me on before this mortal noise with swiftness, as of chariots and distance, as of wheels. this world did drop away as acres from the feet of one that leaneth from balloon upon an ether street. the gulf behind was not, the continents were new    eternity it was before eternity was due. no seasons were to us    it was not night nor morn    but sunrise stopped upon the place and fastened it in dawn. 1054 not to discover weakness is the artifice of strength    impregnability inheres as much through consciousness of faith of others in itself as pyramidal nerve behind the most unconscious clock what skilful pointers move    1055 the soul should always stand ajar that if the heaven inquire he will not be obliged to wait or shy of troubling her depart, before the host have slid the bolt unto the door    to search for the accomplished guest, her visitor, no more    1056 there is a zone whose even years no solstice interrupt    whose sun constructs perpetual noon whose perfect seasons wait    whose summer set in summer, till the centuries of june and centuries of august cease and consciousness    is noon. 1057 i had a daily bliss i half indifferent viewed till sudden i perceived it stir    it grew as i pursued till when around a height it wasted from my sight increased beyond my utmost scope i learned to estimate. 1058 bloom    is result    to meet a flower and casually glance would scarcely cause one to suspect the minor circumstance assisting in the bright affair so intricately done then offered as a butterfly to the meridian    to pack the bud    oppose the worm    obtain its right of dew    adjust the heat    elude the wind    escape the prowling bee great nature not to disappoint awaiting her that day    to be a flower, is profound responsibility    1059 sang from the heart, sire, dipped my beak in it, if the tune drip too much have a tint too red pardon the cochineal    suffer the vermillion    death is the wealth of the poorest bird. bear with the ballad    awkward    faltering    death twists the strings    'twasn't my blame    pause in your liturgies    wait your chorals    while i repeat your hallowed name    1060 air has no residence, no neighbor, no ear, no door, no apprehension of another oh, happy air! ethereal guest at e'en an outcast's pillow    essential host, in life's faint, wailing inn, later than light thy consciousness accost me till it depart, persuading mine    1061 three weeks passed since i had seen her    some disease had vext 'twas with text and village singing i beheld her next and a company    our pleasure to discourse alone    gracious now to me as any    gracious unto none    borne without dissent of either to the parish night    of the separated parties which be out of sight? 1062 he scanned it    staggered    dropped the loop to past or period    caught helpless at a sense as if his mind were going blind    groped up, to see if god was there    groped backward at himself caressed a trigger absently and wandered out of life. 1063 ashes denote that fire was    revere the grayest pile for the departed creature's sake that hovered there awhile    fire exists the first in light and then consolidates only the chemist can disclose into what carbonates. 1064 to help our bleaker parts salubrious hours are given which if they do not fir for earth drill silently for heaven    1065 let down the bars, oh death    the tired flocks come in whose bleating ceases to repeat whose wandering is done    thine is the stillest night thine the securest fold too near thou art for seeking thee too tender, to be told. 1066 fame's boys and girls, who never die and are too seldom born    1067 except the smaller size no lives are round    these    hurry to a sphere and show and end    the larger    slower grow and later hang    the summers of hesperides are long. 1068 further in summer than the birds pathetic from the grass a minor nation celebrates its unobtrusive mass. no ordinance be seen so gradual the grace a pensive custom it becomes enlarging loneliness. antiquest felt at noon when august burning low arise this spectral canticle repose to typify remit as yet no grace no furrow on the glow yet a druidic difference enhances nature now 1069 paradise is of the option. whosoever will own in eden notwithstanding adam and repeal. 1070 to undertake is to achieve be undertaking blent with fortitude of obstacle and toward encouragement that fine suspicion, natures must permitted to revere departed standards and the few criterion sources here 1071 perception of an object costs precise the object's loss    perception in itself a gain replying to its price    the object absolute    is nought    perception sets it fair and then upbraids a perfectness that situates so far    1072 title divine    is mine! the wife    without the sign! acute degree    conferred on me    empress of calvary! royal    all but the crown! betrothed    without the swoon god sends us women    when you    hold    garnet to garnet    gold    to gold    born    bridalled    shrouded    in a day    tri victory "my husband"    women say    stroking the melody    is this    the way? 1073 experiment to me is every one i meet if it contain a kernel? the figure of a nut presents upon a tree equally plausibly, but meat within, is requisite to squirrels, and to me. 1074 count not that far that can be had, though sunset lie between    nor that adjacent, that beside, is further than the sun. 1075 the sky is low    the clouds are mean. a travelling flake of snow across a barn or through a rut debates if it will go    a narrow wind complains all day how some one treated him nature, like us is sometimes caught without her diadem. 1076 just once! oh least request! could adamant refuse so small a grace so scanty put, such agonizing terms? would not a god of flint be conscious of a sigh as down his heaven dropt remote "just once" sweet deity? 1077 these are the signs to nature's inns    her invitation broad to whosoever famishing to taste her mystic bread    these are the rites of nature's house    the hospitality that opens with an equal width to beggar and to bee for sureties of her staunch estate her undecaying cheer the purple in the east is set and in the north, the star    1078 the bustle in a house the morning after death is solemnest of industries enacted upon earth    the sweeping up the heart and putting love away we shall not want to use again until eternity. 1079 the sun went down    no man looked on    the earth and i, alone, were present at the majesty    he triumphed, and went on    the sun went up    no man looked on    the earth and i and one a nameless bird    a stranger were witness for the crown    1080 when they come back    if blossoms do    i always feel a doubt if blossoms can be born again when once the art is out    when they begin, if robins may, i always had a fear i did not tell, it was their last experiment last year, when it is may, if may return, had nobody a pang lest in a face so beautiful he might not look again? if i am there    one does not know what party    one may be tomorrow, but if i am there i take back all i say    1081 superiority to fate is difficult to gain 'tis not conferred of any but possible to earn a pittance at a time until to her surprise the soul with strict economy subsist till paradise. 1082 revolution is the pod systems rattle from when the winds of will are stirred excellent is bloom but except its russet base every summer be the entomber of itself, so of liberty    left inactive on the stalk all its purple fled revolution shakes it for test if it be dead. 1083 we learn it in retreating how vast an one was recently among us    a perished sun endear in the departure how doubly more than all the golden presence it was    before    1084 at half past three, a single bird unto a silent sky propounded but a single term of cautious melody. at half past four, experiment had subjugated test and lo, her silver principle supplanted all the rest. at half past seven, element nor implement, be seen    and place was where the presence was circumference between. 1085 if nature smiles    the mother must i'm sure, at many a whim of her eccentric family    is she so much to blame? 1086 what twigs we held by    oh the view when life's swift river striven through we pause before a further plunge to take momentum    as the fringe upon a former garment shows the garment cast, our props disclose so scant, so eminently small of might to help, so pitiful to sink, if we had labored, fond the diligence were not more blind how scant, by everlasting light the discs that satisfied our sight    how dimmer than a saturn's bar the things esteemed, for things that are! 1087 we miss a kinsman more when warranted to see than when withheld of oceans from possibility a furlong than a league inflicts a pricklier pain, till we, who smiled at pyrenees    of parishes, complain. 1088 ended, ere it begun    the title was scarcely told when the preface perished from consciousness the story, unrevealed    had it been mine, to print! had it been yours, to read! that it was not our privilege the interdict of god    1089 myself can read the telegrams a letter chief to me the stock's advance and retrograde and what the markets say the weather    how the rains in counties have begun. 'tis news as null as nothing, but sweeter so    than none. 1090 i am afraid to own a body    i am afraid to own a soul    profound    precarious property    possession, not optional    double estate    entailed at pleasure upon an unsuspecting heir    duke in a moment of deathlessness and god, for a frontier. 1091 the well upon the brook were foolish to depend    let brooks    renew of brooks    but wells    of failless ground! 1092 it was not saint    it was too large    nor snow    it was too small    it only held itself aloof like something spiritual    1093 because 'twas riches i could own, myself had earned it    me, i knew the dollars by their names    it feels like poverty an earldom out of sight to hold, an income in the air, possession    has a sweeter chink unto a miser's ear    1094 themself are all i have    myself a freckled    be    i thought you'd choose a velvet cheek or one of ivory    would you    instead of me? 1095 to whom the mornings stand for nights, what must the midnights    be! 1096 these strangers, in a foreign world, protection asked of me    befriend them, lest yourself in heaven be found a refugee    1097 dew    is the freshet in the grass    'tis many a tiny mill turns unperceived beneath our feet and artisan lies still    we spy the forests and the hills the tents to nature's show mistake the outside for the in and mention what we saw. could commentators on the sign of nature's caravan obtain "admission" as a child some wednesday afternoon. 1098 of the heart that goes in, and closes the door shall the playfellow heart complain though the ring is unwhole, and the company broke can never be fitted again? 1099 my cocoon tightens    colors tease    i'm feeling for the air    a dim capacity for wings demeans the dress i wear    a power of butterfly must be    the aptitude to fly meadows of majesty implies and easy sweeps of sky    so i must baffle at the hint and cipher at the sign and make much blunder, if at least i take the clue divine    1100 the last night that she lived it was a common night except the dying    this to us made nature different we noticed smallest things    things overlooked before by this great light upon our minds italicized    as 'twere. as we went out and in between her final room and rooms where those to be alive tomorrow were, a blame that others could exist while she must finish quite a jealousy for her arose so nearly infinite    we waited while she passed    it was a narrow time    too jostled were our souls to speak at length the notice came. she mentioned, and forgot    then lightly as a reed bent to the water, struggled scarce    consented, and was dead    and we    we placed the hair    and drew the head erect    and then an awful leisure was belief to regulate    1101 between the form of life and life the difference is as big as liquor at the lip between and liquor in the jug the latter    excellent to keep    but for ecstatic need the corkless is superior    i know for i have tried 1102 his bill is clasped    his eye forsook    his feathers wilted low    the claws that clung, like lifeless gloves indifferent hanging now    the joy that in his happy throat was waiting to be poured gored through and through with death, to be assassin of a bird resembles to my outraged mind the firing in heaven, on angels    squandering for you their miracles of tune    1103 the spry arms of the wind if i could crawl between i have an errand imminent to an adjoining zone    i should not care to stop my process is not long the wind could wait without the gate or stroll the town among. to ascertain the house and is the soul at home and hold the wick of mine to it to light, and then return    1104 the crickets sang and set the sun and workmen finished one by one their seam the day upon. the low grass loaded with the dew the twilight stood, as strangers do with hat in hand, polite and new to stay as if, or go. a vastness, as a neighbor, came, a wisdom, without face, or name, a peace, as hemispheres at home and so the night became. 1105 like men and women shadows walk upon the hills today    with here and there a mighty bow or trailing courtesy to neighbors doubtless of their own not quickened to perceive minuter landscape as ourselves and boroughs where we live    1106 we do not know the time we lose    the awful moment is and takes its fundamental place among the certainties    a firm appearance still inflates the card    the chance    the friend    the spectre of solidities whose substances are sand    1107 the bird did prance    the bee did play    the sun ran miles away so blind with joy he could not choose between his holiday the morn was up    the meadows out the fences all but ran, republic of delight, i thought where each is citizen    from heavy laden lands to thee were seas to cross to come a caspian were crowded    too near thou art for fame    1108 a diamond on the hand to custom common grown subsides from its significance the gem were best unknown    within a seller's shrine how many sight and sigh and cannot, but are mad for fear that any other buy. 1109 i fit for them    i seek the dark till i am thorough fit. the labor is a sober one with this sufficient sweet that abstinence of mine produce a purer food for them, if i succeed, if not i had the transport of the aim    1110 none who saw it ever told it 'tis as hid as death had for that specific treasure a departing breath    surfaces may be invested did the diamond grow general as the dandelion would you serve it so? 1111 some wretched creature, savior take who would exult to die and leave for thy sweet mercy's sake another hour to me 1112 that this should feel the need of death the same as those that lived is such a feat of irony as never was    achieved    not satisfied to ape the great in his simplicity the small must die, as well as he    oh the audacity    1113 there is strength in proving that it can be borne although it tear    what are the sinews of such cordage for except to bear the ship might be of satin had it not to fight    to walk on seas requires cedar feet 1114 the largest fire ever known occurs each afternoon    discovered is without surprise proceeds without concern    consumes and no report to men an occidental town, rebuilt another morning to be burned down again. 1115 the murmuring of bees, has ceased but murmuring of some posterior, prophetic, has simultaneous come. the lower metres of the year when nature's laugh is done the revelations of the book whose genesis was june. appropriate creatures to her change the typic mother sends as accent fades to interval with separating friends till what we speculate, has been and thoughts we will not show more intimate with us become than persons, that we know. 1116 there is another loneliness that many die without    not want of friend occasions it or circumstances of lot but nature, sometimes, sometimes thought and whoso it befall is richer than could be revealed by mortal numeral    1117 a mine there is no man would own but must it be conferred, demeaning by exclusive wealth a universe beside    potosi never to be spent but hoarded in the mind what misers wring their hands tonight for indies in the ground! 1118 exhilaration is the breeze that lifts us from the ground and leaves us in another place whose statement is not found    returns us not, but after time we soberly descend a little newer for the term upon enchanted ground    1119 paradise is that old mansion many owned before    occupied by each an instant then reversed the door    bliss is frugal of her leases adam taught her thrift bankrupt once through his excesses    1120 this slow day moved along    i heard its axles go as if they could not hoist themselves they hated motion so    i told my soul to come    it was no use to wait    we went and played and came again and it was out of sight    1121 time does go on    i tell it gay to those who suffer now    they shall survive    there is a sun    they don't believe it now    1122 'tis my first night beneath the sun if i should spend it here    above him is too low a height for his barometer who airs of expectation breathes and takes the wind at prime    but distance his delights confides to those who visit him    1123 a great hope fell you heard no noise the ruin was within oh cunning wreck that told no tale and let no witness in the mind was built for mighty freight for dread occasion planned how often foundering at sea ostensibly, on land a not admitting of the wound until it grew so wide that all my life had entered it and there were troughs beside a closing of the simple lid that opened to the sun until the tender carpenter perpetual nail it down    1124 had we known the ton she bore we had helped the terror but she straighter walked for freight so be hers the error    1125 oh sumptuous moment slower go that i may gloat on thee    'twill never be the same to starve now i abundance see    which was to famish, then or now    the difference of day ask him unto the gallows led    with morning in the sky    1126 shall i take thee, the poet said to the propounded word? be stationed with the candidates till i have finer tried    the poet searched philology and when about to ring for the suspended candidate there came unsummoned in    that portion of the vision the word applied to fill not unto nomination the cherubim reveal    1127 soft as the massacre of suns by evening's sabres slain 1128 these are the nights that beetles love    from eminence remote drives ponderous perpendicular his figure intimate the terror of the children the merriment of men depositing his thunder he hoists abroad again    a bomb upon the ceiling is an improving thing    it keeps the nerves progressive conjecture flourishing    too dear the summer evening without discreet alarm    supplied by entomology with its remaining charm    1129 tell all the truth but tell it slant    success in circuit lies too bright for our infirm delight the truth's superb surprise as lightning to the children eased with explanation kind the truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind    1130 that odd old man is dead a year    we miss his stated hat. 'twas such an evening bright and stiff his faded lamp went out. who miss his antiquated wick    are any hoar for him? waits any indurated mate his wrinkled coming home? oh life, begun in fluent blood and consummated dull! achievement contemplating thee    feels transitive and cool. 1131 the merchant of the picturesque a counter has and sales but is within or negative precisely as the calls    to children he is small in price and large in courtesy    it suits him better than a check their artless currency    of counterfeits he is so shy do one advance so near as to behold his ample flight    1132 the smouldering embers blush    oh hearts within the coal hast thou survived so many years? the smouldering embers smile    soft stirs the news of light the stolid seconds glow one requisite has fire that lasts prometheus never knew    1133 the snow that never drifts    the transient, fragrant snow that comes a single time a year is softly driving now    so thorough in the tree at night beneath the star that it was february's foot experience would swear    like winter as a face we stern and former knew repaired of all but loneliness by nature's alibit    were every storm so spice the value could not be    we buy with contrast    pang is good as near as memory    1134 the wind took up the northern things and piled them in the south    then gave the east unto the west and opening his mouth the four divisions of the earth did make as to devour while everything to corners slunk behind the awful power    the wind    unto his chambers went and nature ventured out    her subjects scattered into place her systems ranged about again the smoke from dwellings rose the day abroad was heard    how intimate, a tempest past the transport of the bird    1135 too cold is this to warm with sun    too stiff to bended be, to joint this agate were a work    outstaring masonry    how went the agile kernel out contusion of the husk nor rip, nor wrinkle indicate but just an asterisk. 1136 the frost of death was on the pane    "secure your flower" said he. like sailors fighting with a leak we fought mortality. our passive flower we held to sea    to mountain    to the sun    yet even on his scarlet shelf to crawl the frost begun    we pried him back ourselves we wedged himself and her between, yet easy as the narrow snake he forked his way along till all her helpless beauty bent and then our wrath begun    we hunted him to his ravine we chased him to his den    we hated death and hated life and nowhere was to go    than sea and continent there is a larger    it is woe    1137 the duties of the wind are few, to cast the ships, at sea, establish march, the floods escort, and usher liberty. the pleasures of the wind are broad, to dwell extent among, remain, or wander, speculate, or forests entertain. the kinsmen of the wind are peaks azof    the equinox, also with bird and asteroid a bowing intercourse. the limitations of the wind do he exist, or die, too wise he seems for wakelessness, however, know not i. 1138 a spider sewed at night without a light upon an arc of white. if ruff it was of dame or shroud of gnome himself himself inform. of immortality his strategy was physiognomy. 1139 her sovereign people nature knows as well and is as fond of signifying as if fallible    1140 the day grew small, surrounded tight by early, stooping night    the afternoon in evening deep its yellow shortness dropt    the winds went out their martial ways the leaves obtained excuse    november hung his granite hat upon a nail of plush    1141 the face we choose to miss    be it but for a day as absent as a hundred years, when it has rode away. 1142 the props assist the house until the house is built and then the props withdraw and adequate, erect, the house support itself and cease to recollect the auger and the carpenter    just such a retrospect hath the perfected life    a past of plank and nail and slowness    then the scaffolds drop affirming it a soul. 1143 the work of her that went, the toil of fellows done    in ovens green our mother bakes, by fires of the sun. 1144 ourselves we do inter with sweet derision. the channel of the dust who once achieves invalidates the balm of that religion that doubts as fervently as it believes. 1145 in thy long paradise of light no moment will there be when i shall long for earthly play and mortal company    1146 when etna basks and purrs naples is more afraid than when she show her garnet tooth    security is loud    1147 after a hundred years nobody knows the place agony that enacted there motionless as peace weeds triumphant ranged strangers strolled and spelled at the lone orthography of the elder dead winds of summer fields recollect the way    instinct picking up the key dropped by memory    1148 after the sun comes out how it alters the world    waggons like messengers hurry about yesterday is old    all men meet as if each foreclosed a news    fresh as a cargo from batize nature's qualities    1149 i noticed people disappeared when but a little child    supposed they visited remote or settled regions wild    but did because they died a fact withheld the little child    1150 how many schemes may die in one short afternoon entirely unknown to those they most concern    the man that was not lost because by accident he varied by a ribbon's width from his accustomed route    the love that would not try because beside the door it must be competitions some unsuspecting horse was tied surveying his despair 1151 soul, take thy risk. with death to be were better than be not with thee 1152 tell as a marksman    were forgotten tell    this day endures ruddy as that coeval apple the tradition bears    fresh as mankind that humble story though a statelier tale grown in the repetition hoary scarcely would prevail    tell had a son    the ones that knew it need not linger here    those who did not to human nature tell would not bare his head in presence of the ducal hat    threatened for that with death    by gessler    tyranny bethought make of his only boy a target that surpasses death    stolid to love's supreme entreaty not forsook of faith    mercy of the almighty begging    tell his arrow sent    god it is said replies in person when the cry is meant    1153 through what transports of patience i reached the stolid bliss to breathe my blank without thee attest me this and this    by that bleak exultation i won as near as this thy privilege of dying abbreviate me this    1154 a full fed rose on meals of tint a dinner for a bee in process of the noon became   each bright mortality the forfeit is of creature fair itself, adored before submitting for our unknown sake to be esteemed no more    1155 distance    is not the realm of fox nor by relay of bird abated    distance is until thyself, beloved. 1156 lest any doubt that we are glad that they were born today whose having lived is held by us in noble holiday without the date, like consciousness or immortality    1157 some days retired from the rest in soft distinction lie the day that a companion came or was obliged to die 1158 best witchcraft is geometry to the magician's mind    his ordinary acts are feats to thinking of mankind. 1159 great streets of silence led away to neighborhoods of pause    here was no notice    no dissent no universe    no laws    by clocks, 'twas morning, and for night the bells at distance called    but epoch had no basis here for period exhaled. 1160 he is alive, this morning    he is alive    and awake    birds are resuming for him    blossoms    dress for his sake. bees    to their loaves of honey add an amber crumb him    to regale    me    only    motion, and am dumb. 1161 trust adjust her "peradventure"    phantoms entered "and not you." 1162 the life we have is very great. the life that we shall see surpasses it, we know, because it is infinity. but when all space has been beheld and all dominion shown the smallest human heart's extent reduces it to none. 1163 god made no act without a cause, nor heart without an aim, our inference is premature, our premises to blame. 1164 were it to be the last how infinite would be what we did not suspect was marked    our final interview. 1165 contained in this short life are magical extents the soul returning soft at night to steal securer thence as children strictest kept turn soonest to the sea whose nameless fathoms slink away beside infinity 1166 of paul and silas it is said there were in prison laid but when they went to take them out they were not there instead. security the same insures to our assaulted minds    the staple must be optional that an immortal binds. 1167 alone and in a circumstance reluctant to be told a spider on my reticence assiduously crawled and so much more at home than i immediately grew i felt myself a visitor and hurriedly withdrew revisiting my late abode with articles of claim i found it quietly assumed as a gymnasium where tax asleep and title off the inmates of the air perpetual presumption took as each were special heir    if any strike me on the street i can return the blow    if any take my property according to the law the statute is my learned friend but what redress can be for an offense nor here nor there so not in equity    that larceny of time and mind the marrow of the day by spider, or forbid it lord that i should specify. 1168 as old as woe    how old is that? some eighteen thousand years    as old as bliss how old is that they are of equal years together chiefest they ard found but seldom side by side from neither of them tho' he try can human nature hide 1169 lest they should come    is all my fear when sweet incarcerated here 1170 nature affects to be sedate upon occasion, grand but let our observation shut her practices extend to necromancy and the trades remote to understand behold our spacious citizen unto a juggler turned    1171 on the world you colored morning painted rose    idle his vermillion aimlessly crept the glows over realms of orchards i the day before conquered with the robin    misery, how fair till your wrinkled finger shored the sun away midnight's awful pattern in the goods of day    1172 the clouds their backs together laid the north begun to push the forests galloped till they fell the lightning played like mice the thunder crumbled like a stuff how good to be in tombs where nature's temper cannot reach nor missile ever comes 1173 the lightning is a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropt the awful cutlery of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed. 1174 there's the battle of burgoyne    over, every day, by the time that man and beast put their work away "sunset" sounds majestic    but that solemn war could you comprehend it you would chastened stare    1175 we like a hairbreadth 'scape it tingles in the mind far after act or accident like paragraphs of wind if we had ventured less the breeze were not so fine that reaches to our utmost hair its tentacles divine. 1176 we never know how high we are till we are asked to rise and then if we are true to plan our statures touch the skies    the heroism we recite would be a normal thing did not ourselves the cubits warp for fear to be a king    1177 a prompt    executive bird is the jay    bold as a bailiff's hymn    brittle and brief in quality    warrant in every line    sitting a bough like a brigadier confident and straight    much is the mien of him in march as a magistrate    1178 my god    he sees thee    shine thy best    fling up thy balls of gold till every cubit play with thee and every crescent hold    elate the acre at his feet    upon his atom swim    oh sun    but just a second's right in thy long race with him! 1179 of so divine a loss we enter but the gain, indemnity for loneliness that such a bliss has been. 1180 "remember me" implored the thief! oh hospitality! my guest "today in paradise" i give thee guaranty. that courtesy will fair remain when the delight is dust with which we cite this mightiest case of compensated trust. of all we are allowed to hope but affidavit stands that this was due where most we fear be unexpected friends. 1181 when i hoped i feared    since i hoped i dared everywhere alone as a church remain    spectre cannot harm    serpent cannot charm    he deposes doom who hath suffered him    1182 remembrance has a rear and front    'tis something like a house    it has a garret also for refuse and the mouse. besides the deepest cellar that ever mason laid    look to it by its fathoms ourselves be not pursued    1183 step lightly on this narrow spot    the broadest land that grows is not so ample as the breast these emerald seams enclose. step lofty, for this name be told as far as cannon dwell or flag subsist or fame export her deathless syllable. 1184 the days that we can spare are those a function die or friend or nature    stranded then in our economy our estimates a scheme    our ultimates a sham    we let go all of time without arithmetic of him    1185 a little dog that wags his tail and knows no other joy of such a little dog am i reminded by a boy who gambols all the living day without an earthly cause because he is a little boy i honestly suppose    the cat that in the corner dwells her martial day forgot the mouse but a tradition now of her desireless lot another class remind me who neither please nor play but not to make a "bit of noise" beseech each little boy    1186 too few the mornings be, too scant the nights. no lodging can be had for the delights that come to earth to stay, but no apartment find and ride away. 1187 oh shadow on the grass, art thou a step or not? go make thee fair my candidate my nominated heart    oh shadow on the grass while i delay to guess some other thou wilt consecrate    oh unelected face    1188 'twas fighting for his life he was    that sort accomplish well    the ordnance of vitality is frugal of its ball. it aims once    kills once    conquers once    there is no second war in that campaign inscrutable of the interior. 1189 the voice that stands for floods to me is sterile borne to some    the face that makes the morning mean glows impotent on them    what difference in substance lies that what is sum to me by other financiers be deemed exclusive property! 1190 the sun and fog contested the government of day    the sun took down his yellow whip and drove the fog away    1191 the pungent atom in the air admits of no debate    all that is named of summer days relinquished our estate    for what department of delight as positive are we as limit of dominion or dams    of ecstasy    1192 an honest tear is durabler than bronze    this cenotaph may each that dies    reared by itself    no deputy suffice    gratitude bears when obelisk decays 1193 all men for honor hardest work but are not known to earn    paid after they have ceased to work in infamy or urn    1194 somehow myself survived the night and entered with the day    that it be saved the saved suffice without the formula. henceforth i take my living place as one commuted led    a candidate for morning chance but dated with the dead. 1195 what we see we know somewhat be it but a little    what we don't surmise we do though it shows so fickle i shall vote for lands with locks granted i can pick 'em    transport's doubtful dividend patented by adam. 1196 to make routine a stimulus remember it can cease    capacity to terminate is a specific grace    of retrospect the arrow that power to repair departed with the torment become, alas, more fair    1197 i should not dare to be so sad so many years again    a load is first impossible when we have put it down    the superhuman then withdraws and we who never saw the giant at the other side begin to perish now. 1198 a soft sea washed around the house a sea of summer air and rose and fell the magic planks that sailed without a care    for captain was the butterfly for helmsman was the bee and an entire universe for the delighted crew. 1199 are friends delight or pain? could bounty but remain riches were good    but if they only stay ampler to fly away riches are sad. 1200 because my brook is fluent i know 'tis dry    because my brook is silent it is the sea    and startled at its rising i try to flee to where the strong assure me is "no more sea"    1201 so i pull my stockings off wading in the water for the disobedience' sake boy that lived for "or'ter" went to heaven perhaps at death and perhaps he didn't moses wasn't fairly used    ananias wasn't    1202 the frost was never seen    if met, too rapid passed, or in too unsubstantial team    the flowers notice first a stranger hovering round a symptom of alarm in villages remotely set but search effaces him till some retrieveless night our vigilance at waste the garden gets the only shot that never could be traced. unproved is much we know    unknown the worst we fear    of strangers is the earth the inn of secrets is the air    to analyze perhaps a philip would prefer but labor vaster than myself i find it to infer. 1203 the past is such a curious creature to look her in the face a transport may receipt us or a disgrace    unarmed if any meet her i charge him fly her faded ammunition might yet reply. 1204 whatever it is    she has tried it    awful father of love    is not ours the chastising    do not chastise the dove    not for ourselves, petition    nothing is left to pray    when a subject is finished    words are handed away    only lest she be lonely in thy beautiful house give her for her transgression license to think of us    1205 immortal is an ample word when what we need is by but when it leaves us for a time 'tis a necessity. of heaven above the firmest proof we fundamental know except for its marauding hand it had been heaven below. 1206 the show is not the show but they that go    menagerie to me my neighbor be    fair play    both went to see    1207 he preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow    the broad are too broad to define and of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar    the truth never flaunted a sign    simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence as gold the pyrites would shun    what confusion would cover the innocent jesus to meet so enabled a man! 1208 our own possessions    though our own    'tis well to hoard anew    remembering the dimensions of possibility. 1209 to disappear enhances    the man that runs away is tinctured for an instant with immortality but yesterday a vagrant    today in memory lain with superstitious value we tamper with "again" but "never" far as honor withdraws the worthless thing and impotent to cherish we hasten to adorn    of death the sternest function that just as we discern the excellence defies us    securest gathered then the fruit perverse to plucking, but leaning to the sight with the ecstatic limit of unobtained delight    1210 the sea said "come" to the brook    the brook said "let me grow"    the sea said "then you will be a sea    i want a brook    come now"! the sea said "go" to the sea    the sea said "i am he you cherished"    "learned waters    wisdom is stale    to me" 1211 a sparrow took a slice of twig and thought it very nice i think, because his empty plate was handed nature twice    invigorated, waded in all the deepest sky until his little figure was forfeited away    1212 a word is dead when it is said, some say. i say it just begins to live that day. 1213 we like march. his shoes are purple    he is new and high    makes he mud for dog and peddler. makes he forests dry. knows the adder tongue his coming and presents her spot    stands the sun so close and mighty that our minds are hot. news is he of all the others    bold it were to die with the blue birds exercising on his british sky.     we like march    his shoes are purple. he is new and high    makes he mud for dog and peddler    makes he forests dry    knows the adder's tongue his coming and begets her spot    stands the sun so close and mighty    that our minds are hot. news is he of all the others    bold it were to die with the blue birds buccaneering on his british sky    1214 we introduce ourselves to planets and to flowers but with ourselves have etiquettes embarrassments and awes 1215 i bet with every wind that blew till nature in chagrin employed a fact to visit me and scuttle my balloon    1216 a deed knocks first at thought and then    it knocks at will    that is the manufacturing spot and will at home and well it then goes out an act or is entombed so still that only to the ear of god its doom is audible    1217 fortitude incarnate here is laid away in the swift partitions of the awful sea    babble of the happy cavil of the bold hoary the fruition but the sea is old edifice of ocean thy tumultuous rooms suit me at a venture better than the tombs 1218 let my first knowing be of thee with morning's warming light    and my first fearing, lest unknowns engulf thee in the night    1219 now i knew i lost her    not that she was gone    but remoteness travelled on her face and tongue. alien, though adjoining as a foreign race    traversed she though pausing latitudeless place. elements unaltered    universe the same but love's transmigration    somehow this had come    henceforth to remember nature took the day i had paid so much for    his is penury not who toils for freedom or for family but the restitution of idolatry. 1220 of nature i shall have enough when i have entered these entitled to a bumble bee's familiarities. 1221 some we see no more, tenements of wonder occupy to us though perhaps to them simpler are the days than the supposition leave us to presume that oblique belief which we call conjecture grapples with a theme stubborn as sublime able as the dust to equip its feature adequate as drums to enlist the tomb. 1222 the riddle we can guess we speedily despise    not anything is stale so long as yesterday's surprise    1223 who goes to dine must take his feast or find the banquet mean    the table is not laid without till it is laid within. for pattern is the mind bestowed that imitating her our most ignoble services exhibit worthier. 1224 like trains of cars on tracks of plush i hear the level bee    a jar across the flowers goes their velvet masonry    withstands until the sweet assault their chivalry consumes    while he, victorious tilts away to vanquish other blooms. 1225 its hour with itself the spirit never shows. what terror would enthrall the street could countenance disclose the subterranean freight the cellars of the soul    thank god the loudest place he made is license to be still. 1226 the popular heart is a cannon first    subsequent a drum    bells for an auxiliary and an afterward of rum    not a tomorrow to know its name nor a past to stare    ditches for realms and a trip to jail for a souvenir    1227 my triumph lasted till the drums had left the dead alone and then i dropped my victory and chastened stole along to where the finished faces conclusion turned on me and then i hated glory and wished myself were they. what is to be is best descried when it has also been    could prospect taste of retrospect the tyrannies of men were tenderer    diviner the transitive toward. a bayonet's contrition is nothing to the dead. 1228 so much of heaven has gone from earth that there must be a heaven if only to enclose the saints to affidavit given. the missionary to the mole must prove there is a sky location doubtless he would plead but what excuse have i? too much of proof affronts belief the turtle will not try unless you leave him    then return and he has hauled away. 1229 because he loves her we will pry and see if she is fair what difference is on her face from features others wear. it will not harm her magic pace that we so far behind    her distances propitiate as forests touch the wind not hoping for his notice vast but nearer to adore 'tis glory's far sufficiency that makes our trying poor. 1230 it came at last but prompter death had occupied the house    his pallid furniture arranged and his metallic peace    oh faithful frost that kept the date had love as punctual been delight had aggrandized the gate and blocked the coming in. 1231 somewhere upon the general earth itself exist today    the magic passive but extant that consecrated me    indifferent seasons doubtless play where i for right to be    would pay each atom that i am but immortality    reserving that but just to prove another date of thee    oh god of width, do not for us curtail eternity! 1232 the clover's simple fame remembered of the cow    is better than enameled realms of notability. renown perceives itself and that degrades the flower    the daisy that has looked behind has compromised its power    1233 had i not seen the sun i could have borne the shade but light a newer wilderness my wilderness has made    1234 if my bark sink 'tis to another sea    mortality's ground floor is immortality    1235 like rain it sounded till it curved and then i new 'twas wind    it walked as wet as any wave but swept as dry as sand    when it had pushed itself away to some remotest plain a coming as of hosts was heard it filled the wells, it pleased the pools it warbled in the road    it pulled the spigot from the hills and let the floods abroad    it loosened acres, lifted seas the sites of centres stirred then like elijah rode away upon a wheel of cloud. 1236 like time's insidious wrinkle on a beloved face we clutch the grace the tighter though we resent the crease the frost himself so comely dishevels every prime asserting from his prism that none can punish him 1237 my heart ran so to thee it would not wait for me and i affronted grew and drew away for whatsoe'er my pace he first achieve they face how general a grace allotted two    not in malignity mentioned i this to thee    had he obliquity soonest to share but for the greed of him    boasting my premium    basking in bethleem ere i be there    1238 power is a familiar growth    not foreign    not to be    beside us like a bland abyss in every company    escape it    there is but a chance    when consciousness and clay lean forward for a final glance    disprove that and you may    1239 risk is the hair that holds the tun seductive in the air    that tun is hollow    but the tun    with hundred weights    to spare    too ponderous to suspect the snare espies that fickle chair and seats itself to be let go by that perfidious hair    the "foolish tun" the critics say    while that delusive hair persuasive as perdition, decoys its traveller. 1240 the beggar at the door for fame were easily supplied but bread is that diviner thing disclosed to be denied 1241 the lilac is an ancient shrub but ancienter than that the firmamental lilac upon the hill tonight    the sun subsiding on his course bequeaths this final plant to contemplation    not to touch    the flower of occident. of one corolla is the west    the calyx is the earth    the capsules burnished seeds the stars the scientist of faith his research has but just begun    above his synthesis the flora unimpeachable to time's analysis    "eye hath not seen" may possibly be current with the blind but let not revelation by theses be detained    1242 to flee from memory had we the wings many would fly inured to slower things birds with surprise would scan the cowering van of men escaping from the mind of man 1243 safe despair it is that raves    agony is frugal. puts itself severe away for its own perusal. garrisoned no soul can be in the front of trouble    love is one, not aggregate    nor is dying double    1244 the butterfly's assumption gown in chrysoprase apartments hung this afternoon put on    how condescending to descend and be of buttercups the friend in a new england town    1245 the suburbs of a secret a strategist should keep, better than on a dream intrude to scrutinize the sleep. 1246 the butterfly in honored dust assuredly will lie but none will pass the catacomb so chastened as the fly    1247 to pile like thunder to its close then crumble grand away while everything created hid this    would be poetry    or love    the two coeval come    we both and neither prove    experience either and consume    for none see god and live    1248 the incidents of love are more than its events    investment's best expositor is the minute per cents    1249 the stars are old, that stood for me    the west a little worn    yet newer glows the only gold i ever cared to earn    presuming on that lone result her infinite disdain but vanquished her with my defeat 'twas victory was slain. 1250 white as an indian pipe red as a cardinal flower fabulous as a moon at noon february hour    1251 silence is all we dread. there's ransom in a voice    but silence is infinity. himself have not a face. 1252 like brooms of steel the snow and wind had swept the winter street    the house was hooked the sun sent out faint deputies of heat    where rode the bird the silence tied his ample    plodding steed the apple in the cellar snug was all the one that played. 1253 had this one day not been. or could it cease to be how smitten, how superfluous, were every other day! lest love should value less what loss would value more had it the stricken privilege, it cherishes before. 1254 elijah's wagon knew no thill was innocent of wheel elijah's horses as unique as was his vehicle    elijah's journey to portray expire with him the skill who justified elijah in feats inscrutable    1255 longing is like the seed that wrestles in the ground, believing if it intercede it shall at length be found. the hour, and the clime    each circumstance unknown, what constancy must be achieved before it see the sun! 1256 not any higher stands the grave for heroes than for men    not any nearer for the child than numb three score and ten    this latest leisure equal lulls the beggar and his queen propitiate this democrat a summer's afternoon    1257 dominion lasts until obtained    possession just as long    but these    endowing as they flit eternally belong. how everlasting are the lips known only to the dew    these are the brides of permanence supplanting me and you. 1258 who were "the father and the son" we pondered when a child, and what had they to do with us and when portentous told with inference appalling by childhood fortified we thought, at least they are no worse than they have been described. who are "the father and the son" did we demand today "the father and the son" himself would doubtless specify    but had they the felicity when we desired to know. we better friends had been, perhaps, than time ensue to be    we start    to learn that we believe but once    entirely    belief, it does not fit so well when altered frequently    we blush, that heaven if we achieve    event ineffable    we shall have shunned until ashamed to own the miracle    1259 a wind that rose though not a leaf in any forest stirred but with itself did cold engage beyond the realm of bird    a wind that woke a lone delight like separation's swell restored in arctic confidence to the invisible    1260 because that you are going and never coming back and i, however absolute, may overlook your track    because that death is final, however first it be, this instant be suspended above mortality    significance that each has lived the other to detect discovery not god himself could now annihilate eternity, presumption the instant i perceive that you, who were existence yourself forgot to live    the "life that is" will then have been a thing i never knew    as paradise fictitious until the realm of you    the "life that is to be," to me, a residence too plain unless in my redeemer's face i recognize your own    of immortality who doubts he may exchange with me curtailed by your obscuring face of everything but he    of heaven and hell i also yield the right to reprehend to whoso would commute this face for his less priceless friend. if "god is love" as he admits we think that me must be because he is a "jealous god" he tells us certainly if "all is possible with" him as he besides concedes he will refund us finally our confiscated gods    1261 a word dropped careless on a page may stimulate an eye when folded in perpetual seam the wrinkled maker lie infection in the sentence breeds we may inhale despair at distances of centuries from the malaria    1262 i cannot see my soul but know 'tis there nor ever saw his house nor furniture, who has invited me with him to dwell; but a confiding guest consult as well, what raiment honor him the most, that i be adequately dressed, for he insures to none lest men specified adorn procuring him perpetual drest by dating it a sudden feast. 1263 there is no frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing poetry    this travers may the poorest take without oppress of toll    how frugal is the chariot that bears the human soul. 1264 this is the place they hoped before, where i am hoping now. the seed of disappointment grew within a capsule gay, too distant to arrest the feet that walk this plank of balm    before them lies escapeless sea    the way is closed they came. 1265 the most triumphant bird i ever knew or met embarked upon a twig today and till dominion set i famish to behold so eminent a sight and sang for nothing scrutable but intimate delight. retired, and resumed his transitive estate    to what delicious accident does finest glory fit! 1266 when memory is full put on the perfect lid    this morning's finest syllable presumptuous evening said    1267 i saw that the flake was on it but plotted with time to dispute    "unchanged" i urged with a candor that cost me my honest heart    but "you"    she returned with valor sagacious of my mistake "have altered    accept the pillage for the progress' sake"    1268 confirming all who analyze in the opinion fair that eloquence is when the heart has not a voice to spare    1269 i worked for chaff and earning wheat was haughty and betrayed. what right had fields to arbitrate in matters ratified? i tasted wheat and hated chaff and thanked the ample friend    wisdom is more becoming viewed at distance than at hand. 1270 is heaven a physician? they say that he can heal    but medicine posthumous is unavailable    is heaven an exchequer? they speak of what we owe    but that negotiation i'm not a party to    1271 september's baccalaureate a combination is of crickets    crows    and retrospects and a dissembling breeze that hints without assuming    an innuendo sear that makes the heart put up its fun and turn philosopher. 1272 so proud she was to die it made us all ashamed that what we cherished, so unknown to her desire seemed    so satisfied to go where none of us should be immediately    that anguish stooped almost to jealousy    1273 that sacred closet when you sweep    entitled "memory"    select a reverential broom    and do it silently. 'twill be a labor of surprise    besides identity of other interlocutors a probability    august the dust of that domain    unchallenged    let it lie    you cannot supersede itself but it can silence you    1274 the bone that has no marrow, what ultimate for that? it is not fit for table for beggar or for cat. a bone has obligations    a being has the same    a marrowless assembly is culpabler than shame. but how shall finished creatures a function fresh obtain? old nicodemus' phantom confronting us again! 1275 the spider as an artist has never been employed    though his surpassing merit is freely certified by every broom and bridget throughout a christian land    neglected son of genius i take thee by the hand    1276 'twas later when the summer went than when the cricket came    and yet we knew that gentle clock meant nought but going home    'twas sooner when the cricket went than when the winter came yet that pathetic pendulum keeps esoteric time. 1277 while we were fearing it, it came    but came with less of fear because that fearing it so long had almost made it fair    there is a fitting    a dismay    a fitting    a despair 'tis harder knowing it is due than knowing it is here. they trying on the utmost the morning it is new is terribler than wearing it a whole existence through. 1278 the mountains stood in haze    the valleys stopped below and went or waited as they liked the river and the sky. at leisure was the sun    his interests of fire a little from remark withdrawn    the twilight spoke the spire, so soft upon the scene the act of evening fell we felt how neighborly a thing was the invisible. 1279 the way to know the bobolink from every other bird precisely as the joy of him    obliged to be inferred. of impudent habiliment attired to defy, impertinence subordinate at times to majesty. of sentiments seditious amenable to law    as heresies of transport or puck's apostacy. extrinsic to attention too intimate with joy    he compliments existence until allured away by seasons or his children    adult and urgent grown    or unforeseen aggrandizement or, happily, renown    by contrast certifying the bird of birds is gone    how nullified the meadow    her sorcerer withdrawn! 1280 the harm of years is on him    the infamy of time    depose him like a fashion and give dominion room. forget his morning forces    the glory of decay is a minuter pageant than least vitality. 1281 a stagnant pleasure like a pool that lets its rushes grow until they heedless tumble in and make the water slow impeding navigation bright of shadows going down yet even this shall rouse itself when freshets come along. 1282 art thou the thing i wanted? begone    my tooth has grown    supply the minor palate that has not starved so long    i tell thee while i waited the mystery of food increased till i abjured it and dine without like god       art thou the thing i wanted? begone    my tooth has grown    affront a minor palate thou could'st not goad so long    i tell thee while i waited    the mystery of food increased till i abjured it subsisting now like god    1283 could hope inspect her basis her craft were done    has a fictitious charter or it has none    balked in the vastest instance but to renew    felled by but one assassin    prosperity    1284 had we our senses but perhaps 'tis well they're not at home so intimate with madness he's liable with them had we the eyes without our head    how well that we are blind    we could not look upon the earth    so utterly unmoved    1285 i know suspense    it steps so terse and turns so weak away    besides    suspense is neighborly when i am riding by    is always at the window though lately i descry and mention to my horses the need is not of me    1286 i thought that nature was enough till human nature came but that the other did absorb as parallax a flame    of human nature just aware there added the divine brief struggle for capacity the power to contain is always as the contents but give a giant room and you will lodge a giant and not a smaller man 1287 in this short life that only lasts an hour how much    how little    is within our power 1288 lain in nature    so suffice us the enchantless pod when we advertise existence for the missing seed    maddest heart that god created cannot move a sod pasted by the simple summer on the longed for dead 1289 left in immortal youth on that low plain that hath nor retrospection nor again    ransomed from years    sequestered from decay canceled like dawn in comprehensive day    1290 the most pathetic thing i do is play i hear from you    i make believe until my heart almost believes it too but when i break it with the news you knew it was not true i wish i had not broken it    goliah    so would you    1291 until the desert knows that water grows his sands suffice but let him once suspect that caspian fact sahara dies utmost is relative    have not or have adjacent sums enough    the first abode on the familiar road galloped in dreams    1292 yesterday is history, 'tis so far away    yesterday is poetry    'tis philosophy    yesterday is mystery    where it is today while we shrewdly speculate flutter both away 1293 the things we thought that we should do we other things have done but those peculiar industries have never been begun    the lands we thought that we should seek when large enough to run by speculation ceded to speculation's son    the heaven, in which we hoped to pause when discipline was done untenable to logic but possibly the one    1294 of life to own    from life to draw    but never tough the reservoir    1295 two lengths has every day    its absolute extent and area superior by hope or horror lent    eternity will be velocity or pause at fundamental signals from fundamental laws. to die is not to go    on doom's consummate chart no territory new is staked    remain thou as thou art. 1296 death's waylaying not the sharpest of the thefts of time    there marauds a sorer robber, silence    is his name    no assault, nor any menace doth betoken him. but from life's consummate cluster    he supplants the balm. 1297 go slow, my soul, to feed thyself upon his rare approach    go rapid, lest competing death prevail upon the coach    go timid, should his final eye determine thee amiss    go boldly    for thou paid'st his price redemption    for a kiss    1298 the mushroom is the elf of plants    at evening, it is not    at morning, in a truffled hut it stop upon a spot as if it tarried always and yet its whole career is shorter than a snake's delay and fleeter than a tare    'tis vegetation's juggler    the germ of alibi    doth like a bubble antedate and like a bubble, hie    i feel as if the grass was pleased to have it intermit    this surreptitious scion of summer's circumspect. had nature any supple face or could she one contemn    had nature an apostate    that mushroom    it is him! 1299 delight's despair at setting is that delight is less than the sufficing longing that so impoverish. enchantment's perihelion mistaken oft has been for the authentic orbit of its anterior sun. 1300 from his slim palace in the dust he relegates the realm, more loyal for the exody that has befallen him. 1301 i cannot want it more    i cannot want it less    my human nature's fullest force expends itself on this. and yet it nothing is to him who easy owns    is worth itself or distance he fathoms who obtains. 1302 i think that the root of the wind is water    it would not sound so deep were it a firmamental product    airs no oceans keep    mediterranean intonations    to a current's ear    there is a maritime conviction in the atmosphere    1303 not one by heaven defrauded stay    although he seem to steal he restitutes in some sweet way secreted in his will    1304 not with a club, the heart is broken nor with a stone    a whip so small you could not see it i've known to lash the magic creature till it fell, yet that whip's name too noble then to tell. magnanimous as bird by boy descried    singing unto the stone of which it died    shame need not crouch in such an earth as ours    shame    stand erect    the universe is yours. 1305 recollect the face of me when in thy felicity, due in paradise today guest of mine assuredly    other courtesies have been    other courtesy may be    we commend ourselves to thee paragon of chivalry. 1306 surprise is like a thrilling    pungent    upon a tasteless meat alone    too acrid    but combined an edible delight. 1307 that short    potential stir that each can make but once    that bustle so illustrious 'tis almost consequence    is the eclat of death    oh, thou unknown renown that not a beggar would accept had he the power to spurn    1308 the day she goes or day she stays are equally supreme    existence has a stated width departed, or at home    1309 the infinite a sudden guest has been assumed to be    but how can that stupendous come which never went away? 1310 the notice that is called the spring is but a month from here    put up my heart thy hoary work and take a rosy chair. not any house the flowers keep    the birds enamor care    our salary the longest day is nothing but a bier. 1311 this dirty    little    heart is freely mine. i won it with a bun    a freckled shrine    but eligibly fair to him who sees the visage of the soul and not the knees. 1312 to break so vast a heart required a blow as vast    no zephyr felled this cedar straight    'twas undeserved blast    1313 warm in her hand these accents lie while faithful and afar the grace so awkward for her sake its fond subjection wear    1314 when a lover is a beggar abject is his knee    when a lover is an owner different is he    what he begged is then the beggar    oh disparity    bread of heaven resents bestowal like an obloquy    1315 which is the best    the moon or the crescent? neither    said the moon    that is best which is not    achieve it    you efface the sheen. not of detention is fruition    shudder to attain. transport's decomposition follows    he is prism born. 1316 winter is good    his hoar delights italic flavor yield to intellects inebriate with summer, or the world    generic as a quarry and hearty    as a rose    invited with asperity but welcome when he goes. 1317 abraham to kill him    was distinctly told    isaac was an urchin    abraham was old    not a hesitation    abraham complied    flattered by obeisance tyranny demurred    isaac    to his children lived to tell the tale    moral    with a mastiff manners may prevail. 1318 frigid and sweet her parting face    frigid and fleet my feet    alien and vain whatever clime acrid whatever fate. given to me without the suit riches and name and realm    who was she to withhold from me penury and home? 1319 how news must feel when travelling if news have any heart alighting at the dwelling 'twill enter like a dart! what news must think when pondering if news have any thought concerning the stupendousness of its perceiveless freight! what news will do when every man shall comprehend as one and not in all the universe a thing to tell remain? 1320 dear march    come in    how glad i am    i hoped for you before    put down your hat    you must have walked    how out of breath you are    dear march, come right up the stairs with me    i have so much to tell    i got your letter, and the birds    the maples never knew that you were coming    till i called i declare    how red their faces grew    but march, forgive me    and all those hills you left for me to hue    there was no purple suitable    you took it all with you    who knocks? that april. lock the door    i will not be pursued    he stayed away a year to call when i am occupied    but trifles look so trivial as soon as you have come that blame is just as dear as praise and praise as mere as blame    1321 elizabeth told essex that she could not forgive the clemency of deity however    might survive    that secondary succor we trust that she partook when suing    like her essex for a reprieving look    1322 floss won't save you from an abyss but a rope will    notwithstanding a rope for a souvenir is not beautiful    but i tell you every step is a trough    and every stop a well    now will you have the rope or the floss? prices reasonable    1323 i never hear that one is dead without the chance of life afresh annihilating me that mightiest belief, too mighty for the daily mind that tilling its abyss, had madness, had it once or twice the yawning consciousness, beliefs are bandaged, like the tongue when terror were it told in any tone commensurate would strike us instant dead i do not know the man so bold he dare in lonely place that awful stranger consciousness deliberately face    1324 i send you a decrepit flower that nature sent to me at parting    she was going south and i designed to stay    her motive for the souvenir if sentiment for me or circumstances prudential withheld invincibly    1325 knock with tremor    these are caesars    should they be at home flee as if you trod unthinking on the foot of doom    these receded to accostal centuries ago    should they rend you with "how are you" what have you to show? 1326 our little secrets slink away    beside god's shall not tell    he kept his word a trillion years and might we not as well    but for the niggardly delight to make each other stare is there no sweet beneath the sun with this that may compare    1327 the symptom of the gale    the second of dismay    between its rumor and its face    is almost revelry    the houses firmer root    the heavens cannot be found    the upper surfaces of things take covert in the ground    the mem'ry of the sun not any can recall    although by nature's sterling watch so scant an interval    and when the noise is caught and nature looks around    "we dreamed it"? she interrogates    "good morning"    we propound? 1328 the vastest earthly day is shrunken small by one defaulting face behind a pall    1329 whether they have forgotten or are forgetting now or never remembered    safer not to know    miseries of conjecture are a softer woe than a fact of iron hardened with i know    1330 without a smile    without a throe a summer's soft assemblies go to their entrancing end unknown    for all the times we met    estranged, however intimate    what a dissembling friend    1331 wonder    is not precisely knowing and not precisely knowing not    a beautiful but bleak condition he has not lived who has not felt    suspense    is his maturer sister    whether adult delight is pain or of itself a new misgiving    this is the gnat that mangles men    1332 pink    small    and punctual    aromatic    low    covert    in april    candid    in may    dear to the moss    known to the knoll    next to the robin in every human soul    bold little beauty bedecked with thee nature forswears antiquity    1333 a little madness in the spring is wholesome even for the king, but god be with the clown    who ponders this tremendous scene    this whole experiment of green    as if it were his own! 1334 how soft this prison is how sweet these sullen bars no despot but the king of down invented this repose of fate if this is all has he no added realm a dungeon but a kinsman is incarceration    home. 1335 let me not mar that perfect dream by an auroral stain but so adjust my daily night that it will come again. not when we know, the power accosts    the garment of surprise was all our timid mother wore at home    in paradise. 1336 nature assigns the sun    that    is astronomy    nature cannot enact a friend    that    is astrology. 1337 upon a lilac sea to toss incessantly his plush alarm who fleeing from the spring the spring avenging fling to dooms of balm 1338 what tenements of clover are fitting for the bee, what edifices azure for butterflies and me    what residences nimble arise and evanesce without a rhythmic rumor or an assaulting guess. 1339 a bee his burnished carriage drove boldly to a rose    combinedly alighting    himself    his carriage was    the rose received his visit with frank tranquillity withholding not a crescent to his cupidity    their moment consummated    remained for him    to flee    remained for her    of rapture but the humility. 1340 a rat surrendered here a brief career of cheer and fraud and fear. of ignominy's due let all addicted to beware. the most obliging trap its tendency to snap cannot resist    temptation is the friend repugnantly resigned at last. 1341 unto the whole    how add? has "all" a further realm    or utmost an ulterior? oh, subsidy of balm! 1342 "was not" was all the statement. the unpretension stuns    perhaps    the comprehension    they wore no lexicons    but lest our speculation in inanition die because "god took him" mention    that was philology    1343 a single clover plank was all that saved a bee a bee i personally knew from sinking in the sky    'twixt firmament above and firmament below the billows of circumference were sweeping him away    the idly swaying plank responsible to nought a sudden freight of wind assumed and bumble bee was not    this harrowing event transpiring in the grass did not so much as wring from him a wandering "alas"    1344 not any more to be lacked    not any more to be known    denizen of significance for a span so worn    even nature herself has forgot it is there    sedulous of her multitudes notwithstanding despair    of the ones that pursued it suing it not to go some have solaced the longing to accompany    some    rescinded the wrench    others    shall i say plated the residue of adz with monotony. 1345 an antiquated grace becomes that cherished face as well as prime enjoining us to part we and our pouting heart good friends with time 1346 as summer into autumn slips and yet we sooner say "the summer" than "the autumn," lest we turn the sun away, and almost count it an affront the presence to concede of one however lovely, not the one that we have loved    so we evade the charge of years on one attempting shy the circumvention of the shaft of life's declivity. 1347 escape is such a thankful word i often in the night consider it unto myself no spectacle in sight escape    it is the basket in which the heart is caught when down some awful battlement the rest of life is dropt    'tis not to sight the savior    it is to be the saved    and that is why i lay my head upon this trusty word    1348 lift it    with the feathers not alone we fly    launch it    the aquatic not the only sea    advocate the azure to the lower eyes    he has obligation who has paradise    1349 i'd rather recollect a setting than own a rising sun though one is beautiful forgetting    and true the other one. because in going is a drama staying cannot confer to die divinely once a twilight    than wane is easier    1350 luck is not chance    it's toil    fortune's expensive smile is earned    the father of the mine is that old fashioned coin we spurned    1351 you cannot take itself from any human soul    that indestructible estate enable him to dwell    impregnable as light that every man behold but take away as difficult as undiscovered gold    1352 to his simplicity to die    was little fate    if duty live    contented but her confederate. 1353 the last of summer is delight    deterred by retrospect. 'tis ecstasy's revealed review    enchantment's syndicate. to meet it    nameless as it is    without celestial mail    audacious as without a knock to walk within the veil. 1354 the heart is the capital of the mind    the mind is a single state    the heart and the mind together make a single continent    one    is the population    numerous enough    this ecstatic nation seek    it is yourself. 1355 the mind lives on the heart like any parasite    if that is full of meat the mind is fat. but if the heart omit emaciate the wit    the aliment of it so absolute. 1356 the rat is the concisest tenant. he pays no rent. repudiates the obligation    on schemes intent balking our wit to sound or circumvent    hate cannot harm a foe so reticent    neither decree prohibit him    lawful as equilibrium. 1357 "faithful to the end" amended from the heavenly clause    constancy with a proviso constancy abhors    "crowns of life" are servile prizes to the stately heart, given for the giving, solely, no emolument.    "faithful to the end" amended from the heavenly clause    lucrative indeed the offer but the heart withdraws    "i will give" the base proviso    spare your "crown of life"    those it fits, too fair to wear it    try it on yourself    1358 the treason of an accent might ecstasy transfer    of her effacing fathom is no recoverer       the treason of an accent might vilify the joy    to breathe    corrode the rapture of sanctity to be    1359 the long sigh of the frog upon a summer's day enacts intoxication upon the revery    but his receding swell substantiates a peace that makes the ear inordinate for corporal release    1360 i sued the news    yet feared    the news that such a realm could be    "the house not made with hands" it was    thrown open wide to me    1361 the flake the wind exasperate more eloquently lie than if escorted to its down by arm of chivalry. 1362 of their peculiar light i keep one ray to clarify the sight to seek them by    1363 summer laid her simple hat on its boundless shelf    unobserved    a ribbon slipt, snatch it for yourself. summer laid her supple glove in its sylvan drawer    wheresoe'er, or was she    the demand of awe? 1364 how know it from a summer's day? its fervors are as firm    and nothing in the countenance but scintillates the same    yet birds examine it and flee    and vans without a name inspect the admonition and sunder as they came    1365 take all away    the only thing worth larceny is left    the immortality    1366 brother of ingots    ah peru    empty the hearts that purchased you       sister of ophir    ah, peru    subtle the sum that purchase you       brother of ophir bright adieu, honor, the shortest route to you. 1367 "tomorrow"    whose location the wise deceives though its hallucination is last that leaves    tomorrow    thou retriever of every tare    of alibi art thou or ownest where? 1368 love's stricken "why" is all that love can speak    built of but just a syllable the hugest hearts that break. 1369 trusty as the stars who quit their shining working prompt as when i lit them in genesis' new house, durable as dawn whose antiquated blossom makes a world's suspense perish and rejoice. 1370 gathered into the earth, and out of story    gathered so that strange fame    that lonesome glory that hath no omen here    but awe    1371 how fits his umber coat the tailor of the nut? combined without a seam like raiment of a dream    who spun the auburn cloth? computed how the girth? the chestnut aged grows in those primeval clothes    we know that we are wise    accomplished in surprise    yet by this countryman    this nature    how undone! 1372 the sun is one    and on the tare he doth as punctual call as on the conscientious flower and estimates them all    1373 the worthlessness of earthly things the ditty is that nature sings    and then    enforces their delight till synods are inordinate    1374 a saucer holds a cup in sordid human life but in a squirrel's estimate a saucer hold a loaf. a table of a tree demands the little king and every breeze that run along his dining room do swing. his cutlery    he keeps within his russer lips    to see it flashing when he dines do birmingham eclipse    convicted    could we be of our minutiae the smallest citizen that flies is heartier than we    1375 death warrants are supposed to be an enginery of equity a merciful mistake a pencil in an idol's hand a devotee has oft consigned to crucifix or block 1376 dreams are the subtle dower that make us rich an hour    then fling us poor out of the purple door into the precinct raw possessed before    1377 forbidden fruit a flavor has that lawful orchards mocks    how luscious lies within the pod the pea that duty locks    1378 his heart was darker than the starless night for that there is a morn but in this black receptacle can be no bode of dawn 1379 his mansion in the pool the frog forsakes    he rises on a log and statements makes    his auditors two worlds deducting me    the orator of april is hoarse today    his mittens at his feet no hand hath he    his eloquence a bubble as fame should be    applaud him to discover to your chagrin demosthenes has vanished in waters green    1380 how much the present moment means to those who've nothing more    the fop    the carp    the atheist    stake an entire store upon a moment's shallow rim while their commuted feet the torrents of eternity do all but inundate    1381 i suppose the time will come aid it in the coming when the bird will crowd the tree and the bee be booming. i suppose the time will come hinder it a little when the corn in silk will dress and in chintz the apple i believe the day will be when the jay will giggle at his new white house the earth that, too, halt a little    1382 in many and reportless places we feel a joy    reportless, also, but sincere as nature or deity    it comes, without a consternation    dissolves    the same    but leaves a sumptuous destitution    without a name    profane it by a search    we cannot it has no home    nor we who having once inhaled it    thereafter roam. 1383 long years apart    can make no breach a second cannot fill    the absence of the witch does not invalidate the spell    the embers of a thousand years uncovered by the hand that fondled them when they were fire will stir and understand    1384 praise it    'tis dead    it cannot glow    warm this inclement ear with the encomium it earned since it was gathered here    invest this alabaster zest in the delights of dust    remitted    since it flitted it in recusance august. 1385 "secrets" is a daily word yet does not exist    muffled    it remits surmise    murmured    it has ceased    dungeoned in the human breast doubtless secrets lie    but that grate inviolate    goes nor comes away nothing with a tongue or ear    secrets stapled there will emerge but once    and dumb    to the sepulchre    1386 summer    we all have seen    a few of us    believed    a few    the more aspiring unquestionably loved    but summer does not care    she goes her spacious way as eligible as the moon to our temerity    the doom to be adored    the affluence conferred    unknown as to an ecstasy the embryo endowed    1387 the butterfly's numidian gown with spots of burnish roasted on is proof against the sun yet prone to shut its spotted fan and panting on a clover lean as if it were undone    1388 those cattle smaller than a bee that herd upon the eye    whose tillage is the passing crumb    those cattle are the fly    of barns for winter    blameless    extemporaneous stalls they found to our objection    on eligible walls    reserving the presumption to suddenly descend and gallop on the furniture    or odiouser offend    of their peculiar calling unqualified to judge to nature we remand them to justify or scourge    1389 touch lightly nature's sweet guitar unless thou know'st the tune or every bird will point at thee because a bard too soon    1390 these held their wick above the west    till when the red declined    or how the amber aided it    defied to be defined    then waned without disparagement in a dissembling hue that would not let the eye decide did it abide or no    1391 they might not need me    yet they might    i'll let my heart be just in sight    a smile so small as mine might be precisely their necessity    1392 hope is a strange invention    a patent of the heart    in unremitting action yet never wearing out    of this electric adjunct not anything is known but its unique momentum embellish all we own    1393 lay this laurel on the one too intrinsic for renown    laurel    veil your deathless tree    him you chasten, that is he! 1394 whose pink career may have a close portentous as our own, who knows? to imitate these neighbors fleet in awe and innocence, were meet. 1395 after all birds have been investigated and laid aside    nature imparts the little blue bird    assured her conscientious voice will soar unmoved above ostensible vicissitude. first at the march    competing with the wind    her panting note exalts us    like a friend    last to adhere when summer cleaves away    elegy of integrity. 1396 she laid her docile crescent down and this confiding stone still states to dates that have forgot the news that she is gone    so constant to its stolid trust, the shaft that never knew    it shames the constancy that fled before its emblem flew    1397 it sounded as if the streets were running and then    the streets stood still    eclipse    was all we could see at the window and awe    was all we could feel. by and by    the boldest stole out of his covert to see if time was there    nature was in an opal apron, mixing fresher air. 1398 i have no life but this    to lead it here    nor any death    but lest dispelled from there    nor tie to earths to come    nor action new    except through this extent    the realm of you    1399 perhaps they do not go so far as we who stay, suppose    perhaps come closer, for the lapse of their corporeal clothes    it may be know so certainly how short we have to fear that comprehension antedates and estimates us there    1400 what mystery pervades a well! that water lives so far    a neighbor from another world residing in a jar whose limit none have ever seen, but just his lid of glass    like looking every time you please in an abyss's face! the grass does not appear afraid, i often wonder he can stand so close and look so bold at what is awe to me. related somehow they may be, the sedge stands next the sea    where he is floorless and does no timidity betray but nature is a stranger yet; the ones that cite her most have never passed her haunted house, nor simplified her ghost. to pity those that know her not is helped by the regret that those who know her, know her less the nearer her they get. 1401 to own a susan of my own is of itself a bliss    whatever realm i forfeit, lord, continue me in this! 1402 to the stanch dust we safe commit thee    tongue if it hath, inviolate to thee    silence    denote    and sanctity    enforce thee    passenger    of infinity    1403 my maker    let me be enamored most of thee    but nearer this i more should miss    1404 march is the month of expectation. the things we do not know    the persons of prognostication are coming now    we try to show becoming firmness    but pompous joy betrays us, as his first betrothal betrays a boy. 1405 bees are black, with gilt surcingles    buccaneers of buzz. ride abroad in ostentation and subsist on fuzz. fuzz ordained    not fuzz contingent    marrows of the hill. jugs    a universe's fracture could not jar or spill. 1406 no passenger was known to flee    that lodged a night in memory    that wily    subterranean inn contrives that none go out again    1407 a field of stubble, lying sere beneath the second sun    its toils to brindled people thrust    its triumphs    to the bin    accosted by a timid bird irresolute of alms    is often seen    but seldom felt, on our new england farms    1408 the fact that earth is heaven    whether heaven is heaven or not if not an affidavit of that specific spot not only must confirm us that it is not for us but that it would affront us to dwell in such a place    1409 could mortal lip divine the undeveloped freight of a delivered syllable 'twould crumble with the weight. 1410 i shall not murmur if at last the ones i loved below permission have to understand for what i shunned them so    divulging it would rest my heart but it would ravage theirs    why, katie, treason has a voice    but mine    dispels    in tears. 1411 of paradise' existence all we know is the uncertain certainty    but its vicinity infer, by its bisecting messenger    1412 shame is the shawl of pink in which we wrap the soul to keep it from infesting eyes    the elemental veil which helpless nature drops when pushed upon a scene repugnant to her probity    shame is the tint divine. 1413 sweet skepticism of the heart    that knows    and does not know    and tosses like a fleet of balm    affronted by the snow    invites and then retards the truth lest certainty be sere compared with the delicious throe of transport thrilled with fear    1414 unworthy of her breast though by that scathing test what soul survive? by her exacting light how counterfeit the white we chiefly have! 1415 a wild blue sky abreast of winds that threatened it    did run and crouched behind his yellow door was the defiant sun    some conflict with those upper friends so genial in the main that we deplore peculiarly their arrogant campaign    1416 crisis is sweet and yet the heart upon the hither side has dowers of prospective to denizens denied inquire of the closing rose which rapture she preferred and she will point you sighing to her rescinded bud. 1417 how human nature dotes on what it can't detect. the moment that a plot is plumbed prospective is extinct    prospective is the friend reserved for us to know when constancy is clarified of curiosity    of subjects that resist redoubtablest is this where go we    go we anywhere creation after this? 1418 how lonesome the wind must feel nights    when people have put out the lights and everything that has an inn closes the shutter and goes in    how pompous the wind must feel noons stepping to incorporeal tunes correcting errors of the sky and clarifying scenery how mighty the wind must feel morns encamping on a thousand dawns espousing each and spurning all then soaring to his temple tall    1419 it was a quiet seeming day    there was no harm in earth or sky    till with the closing sun there strayed an accidental red a strolling hue, one would have said to westward of the town    but when the earth began to jar and houses vanished with a roar and human nature hid we comprehended by the awe as those that dissolution saw the poppy in the cloud 1420 one joy of so much anguish sweet nature has for me i shun it as i do despair or dear iniquity    why birds, a summer morning before the quick of day should stab my ravished spirit with dirks of melody is part of an inquiry that will receive reply when flesh and spirit sunder in death's immediately    1421 such are the inlets of the mind    his outlets    would you see ascend with me the eminence of immortality    1422 summer has two beginnings    beginning once in june    beginning in october affectingly again    without, perhaps, the riot but graphicker for grace    as finer is a going than a remaining face    departing then    forever    forever    until may    forever is deciduous except to those who die    1423 the fairest home i ever knew was founded in an hour by parties also that i knew a spider and a flower    a manse of mechlin and of floes    1424 the gentian has a parched corolla    like azure dried 'tis nature's buoyant juices beatified    without a vaunt or sheen as casual as rain and as benign    when most is part    it comes    nor isolate it seems its bond its friend    to fill its fringed career and aid an aged year abundant end    its lot    were it forgot    this truth endear    fidelity is gain creation is o'er    1425 the inundation of the spring enlarges every soul    it sweeps the tenement away but leaves the water whole    in which the soul at first estranged    seeks faintly for its shore but acclimated    pines no more for that peninsula    1426 the pretty rain from those sweet eaves her unintending eyes    took her own heart, including ours, by innocent surprise    the wrestle in her simple throat to hold the feeling down that vanquished her    defeated feat    was fervor's sudden crown    1427 to earn it by disdaining it is fame's consummate fee    he loves what spurns him    look behind    he is pursuing thee. so let us gather    every day    the aggregate of life's bouquet be honor and not shame    1428 water makes many beds for those averse to sleep    its awful chamber open stands    its curtains blandly sweep    abhorrent is the rest in undulating rooms whose amplitude no end invades    whose axis never comes. 1429 we shun because we prize her face lest sight's ineffable disgrace our adoration stain 1430 who never wanted    maddest joy remains to him unknown    the banquet of abstemiousness defaces that of wine    within its reach, though yet ungrasped desire's perfect goal    no nearer    lest the actual    should disentrall thy soul    1431 with pinions of disdain the soul can farther fly than any feather specified in ornithology    it wafts this sordid flesh beyond its dull    control and during its electric gale    the body is a soul    instructing by the same    how little work it be    to put off filaments like this for immortality 1432 spurn the temerity    rashness of calvary    gay were gethsemane knew we of thee    1433 how brittle are the piers on which our faith doth tread    no bridge below doth totter so    yet none hath such a crowd. it is as old as god    indeed    'twas built by him    he sent his son to test the plank, and he pronounced it firm. 1434 go not too near a house of rose    the depredation of a breeze    or inundation of a dew alarms its walls away    nor try to tie the butterfly, nor climb the bars of ecstasy, in insecurity to lie is joy's insuring quality. 1435 not that he goes    we love him more who led us while he stayed. beyond earth's trafficking frontier, for what he moved, he made. 1436 than heaven more remote, for heaven is the root, but these the flitted seed. more flown indeed than ones that never were, or those that hide, and are. what madness, by their side, a vision to provide of future days they cannot praise. my soul, to find them, come, they cannot call, they're dumb, nor prove, nor woo, but that they have abode is absolute as god, and instant, too. 1437 a dew sufficed itself    and satisfied a leaf and felt "how vast a destiny"    "how trivial is life!" the sun went out to work    the day went out to play and not again that dew be seen by physiognomy whether by day abducted or emptied by the sun into the sea in passing eternally unknown attested to this day that awful tragedy by transport's instability and doom's celerity. 1438 behold this little bane    the boon of all alive    as common as it is unknown the name of it is love    to lack of it is woe    to own of it is wound    not elsewhere    if in paradise its tantamount be found    1439 how ruthless are the gentle    how cruel are the kind    god broke his contract to his lamb to qualify the wind    1440 the healed heart shows its shallow scar with confidential moan    not mended by mortality are fabrics truly torn    to go its convalescent way so shameless is to see more genuine were perfidy than such fidelity. 1441 these fevered days    to take them to the forest where waters cool around the mosses crawl    and shade is all that devastates the stillness seems it sometimes this would be all    1442 to mend each tattered faith there is a needle fair though no appearance indicate    'tis threaded in the air    and though it do not wear as if it never tore 'tis very comfortable indeed and spacious as before    1443 a chilly peace infests the grass the sun respectful lies    not any trance of industry these shadows scrutinize    whose allies go no more astray for service or for glee    but all mankind deliver here from whatsoever sea    1444 a little snow was here and there disseminated in her hair    since she and i had met and played decade had gathered to decade    but time had added not obtained impregnable the rose for summer too indelible too obdurate for snows    1445 death is the supple suitor that wins at last    it is a stealthy wooing conducted first by pallid innuendoes and dim approach but brave at last with bugles and a bisected coach it bears away in triumph to troth unknown and kindred as responsive as porcelain. 1446 his mind like fabrics of the east displayed to the despair of everyone but here and there an humble purchaser    for though his price was not of gold    more arduous there is    that one should comprehend the worth was all the price there was    1447 how good his lava bed, to this laborious boy    who must be up to call the world and dress the sleepy day    1448 how soft a caterpillar steps    i fond one on my hand from such a velvet world it comes such plushes at command its soundless travels just arrest my slow    terrestrial eye intent upon its own career what use has it for me    1449 i thought the train would never come    how slow the whistle sang    i don't believe a peevish bird so whimpered for the spring    i taught my heart a hundred times precisely what to say    provoking lover, when you came its treatise flew away to hide my strategy too late to wiser be too soon    for miseries so halcyon the happiness atone    1450 the road was lit with moon and star    the trees were bright and still    descried i    by the distant light a traveller on a hill    to magic perpendiculars ascending, though terrene    unknown his shimmering ultimate    but he indorsed the sheen    1451 whoever disenchants a single human soul by failure of irreverence is guilty of the whole. as guileless as a bird as graphic as a star till the suggestion sinister things are not what they are    1452 your thoughts don't have words every day they come a single time like signal esoteric sips of the communion wine which while you taste so native seems so easy so to be you cannot comprehend its price nor its infrequency 1453 a counterfeit    a plated person    i would not be    whatever strata of iniquity my nature underlie    truth is good health    and safety, and the sky. how meagre, what an exile    is a lie, and vocal    when we die    1454 those not live yet who doubt to live again    "again" is of a twice but this    is one    the ship beneath the draw aground    is he? death    so    the hyphen of the sea    deep is the schedule of the disk to be    costumeless consciousness    that is he    1455 opinion is a flitting thing, but truth, outlasts the sun    if then we cannot own them both    possess the oldest one    1456 so gay a flower bereaves the mind as if it were a woe    is beauty an affliction    then? tradition ought to know    1457 it stole along so stealthy suspicion it was done was dim as to the wealthy beginning not to own    1458 time's wily chargers will not wait at any gate but woe's    but there    so gloat to hesitate they will not stir for blows    1459 belshazzar had a letter    he never had but one    belshazzar's correspondent concluded and begun in that immortal copy the conscience of us all can read without its glasses on revelation's wall    1460 his cheek is his biographer    as long as he can blush perdition is opprobrium    past that, he sins in peace    1461 "heavenly father"    take to thee the supreme iniquity fashioned by thy candid hand in a moment contraband    though to trust us    seems to us more respectful    "we are dust"    we apologize to thee for thine own duplicity    1462 we knew not that we were to live    nor when    we are to die    our ignorance    our cuirass is    we wear mortality as lightly as an option gown till asked to take it off    by his intrusion, god is known    it is the same with life    1463 a route of evanescence with a revolving wheel    a resonance of emerald    a rush of cochineal    and every blossom on the bush adjusts its tumbled head    the mail from tunis, probably, an easy morning's ride    1464 one thing of it we borrow and promise to return    the booty and the sorrow its sweetness to have known    one thing of it we covet    the power to forget    the anguish of the avarice defrays the dross of it    1465 before you thought of spring except as a surmise you see    god bless his suddenness    a fellow in the skies of independent hues a little weather worn inspiriting habiliments of indigo and brown    with specimens of song as if for you to choose    discretion in the interval with gay delays he goes to some superior tree without a single leaf and shouts for joy to nobody but his seraphic self    1466 one of the ones that midas touched who failed to touch us all was that confiding prodigal the reeling oriole    so drunk he disavows it with badinage divine    so dazzling we mistake him for an alighting mine    a pleader    a dissembler    an epicure    a thief    betimes an oratorio    an ecstasy in chief    the jesuit of orchards he cheats as he enchants of an entire attar for his decamping wants    the splendor of a burmah the meteor of birds, departing like a pageant of ballads and of bards    i never thought that jason sought for any golden fleece but then i am a rural man with thoughts that make for peace    but if there were a jason, tradition bear with me behold his lost aggrandizement upon the apple tree    1467 a little overflowing word that any, hearing, had inferred for ardor or for tears, though generations pass away, traditions ripen and decay, as eloquent appears    1468 a winged spark doth soar about    i never met it near for lightning it is oft mistook when nights are hot and sere    its twinkling travels it pursues above the haunts of men    a speck of rapture    first perceived by feeling it is gone    rekindled by some action quaint 1469 if wrecked upon the shoal of thought how is it with the sea? the only vessel that is shunned is safe    simplicity    1470 the sweets of pillage, can be known to no one but the thief    compassion for integrity is his divinest grief    1471 their barricade against the sky the martial trees withdraw and with a flag at every turn their armies are no more. what russet halts in nature's march they indicate or cause an inference of mexico effaces the surmise    recurrent to the after mind that massacre of air    the wound that was not wound nor scar but holidays of war 1472 to see the summer sky is poetry, though never in a book it lie    true poems flee    1473 we talked with each other about each other though neither of us spoke    we were listening to the seconds' races and the hoofs of the clock    pausing in front of our palsied faces time compassion took    arks of reprieve he offered to us    ararats    we took    1474 estranged from beauty    none can be    for beauty is infinity    and power to be finite ceased before identity was leased. 1475 fame is the one that does not stay    its occupant must die or out of sight of estimate ascend incessantly    or be that most insolvent thing a lightning in the germ    electrical the embryo but we demand the flame 1476 his voice decrepit was with joy    her words did totter so how old the news of love must be to make lips elderly that purled a moment since with glee    is it delight or woe    or terror    that do decorate this livid interview    1477 how destitute is he whose gold is firm who finds it every time the small stale sum    when love with but a pence will so display as is a disrespect to india. 1478 look back on time, with kindly eyes    he doubtless did his best    how softly sinks that trembling sun in human nature's west    1479 the devil    had he fidelity would be the best friend    because he has ability    but devils cannot mend    perfidy is the virtue that would but he resign the devil    without question were thoroughly divine 1480 the fascinating chill that music leaves is earth's corroboration of ecstasy's impediment    'tis rapture's germination in timid and tumultuous soil a fine    estranging creature    to something upper wooing us but not to our creator    1481 the way hope builds his house it is not with a sill    nor rafter    has that edifice but only pinnacle    abode in as supreme this superficies as if it were of ledges smit or mortised with the laws    1482 'tis whiter than an indian pipe    'tis dimmer than a lace    no stature has it, like a fog when you approach the place    nor any voice imply it here or intimate it there a spirit    how doth it accost    what function hat the air? this limitless hyperbole each one of us shall be    'tis drama    if hypothesis it be not tragedy    1483 the robin is a gabriel in humble circumstances    his dress denotes him socially, of transport's working classes    he has the punctuality of the new england farmer    the same oblique integrity, a vista vastly warmer    a small but sturdy residence a self denying household, the guests of perspicacity are all that cross his threshold    as covert as a fugitive, cajoling consternation by ditties to the enemy and sylvan punctuation    1484 we shall find the cube of the rainbow. of that, there is no doubt. but the arc of a lover's conjecture eludes the finding out. 1485 love is done when love's begun, sages say, but have sages known? truth adjourn your boon without day. 1486 her spirit rose to such a height her countenance it did inflate like one that fed on awe. more prudent to assault the dawn than merit the ethereal scorn that effervesced from her. 1487 the savior must have been a docile gentleman    to come so far so cold a day for little fellowmen    the road to bethlehem since he and i were boys was leveled, but for that 'twould be a rugged billion miles    1488 birthday of but a single pang that there are less to come    afflictive is the adjective but affluent the doom    1489 a dimple in the tomb makes that ferocious room a home    1490 the face in evanescence lain is more distinct than ours    and ours surrendered for its sake as capsules are for flower's    or is it the confiding sheen dissenting to enamor us of detriment divine? 1491 the road to paradise is plain, and holds scarce one. not that it is not firm but we presume a dimpled road is more preferred. the belles of paradise are few    not me    nor you    but unsuspected things    mines have no wings. 1492 "and with what body do they come?"    then they do come    rejoice! what door    what hour    run    run    my soul! illuminate the house! "body!" then real    a face and eyes    to know that it is them! paul knew the man that knew the news    he passed through bethlehem    1493 could that sweet darkness where they dwell be once disclosed to us the clamor for their loveliness would burst the loneliness    1494 the competitions of the sky corrodeless ply. 1495 the thrill came slowly like a boom for centuries delayed its fitness growing like the flood in sumptuous solitude    the desolations only missed while rapture changed its dress and stood amazed before the change in ravished holiness    1496 all that i do is in review to his enamored mind i know his eye where e'er i ply is pushing close behind not any port nor any flight but he doth there preside what omnipresence lies in wait for her to be a bride 1497 facts by our side are never sudden until they look around and then they scare us like a spectre protruding from the ground    the height of our portentous neighbor we never know    till summoned to his recognition by an adieu    adieu for whence the sage cannot conjecture the bravest die as ignorant of their resumption as you or i    1498 glass was the street    in tinsel peril tree and traveller stood    filled was the air with merry venture hearty with boys the road    shot the lithe sleds like shod vibrations emphasized and gone it is the past's supreme italic makes this present mean    1499 how firm eternity must look to crumbling men like me the only adamant estate in all identity    how mighty to the insecure thy physiognomy to whom not any face cohere    unless concealed in thee 1500 it came his turn to beg    the begging for the life is different from another alms 'tis penury in chief    i scanned his narrow realm i gave him leave to live lest gratitude revive the snake though smuggled his reprieve 1501 its little ether hood doth sit upon its head    the millinery supple of the sagacious god    till when it slip away a nothing at a time    and dandelion's drama expires in a stem. 1502 i saw the wind within her i knew it blew for me    but she must buy my shelter i asked humility 1503 more than the grave is closed to me    the grave and that eternity to which the grave adheres    i cling to nowhere till i fall    the crash of nothing, yet of all    how similar appears    1504 of whom so dear the name to hear illumines with a glow as intimate    as fugitive as sunset on the snow    1505 she could not live upon the past the present did not know her and so she sought this sweet at last and nature gently owned her the mother that has not a knell for either duke or robin 1506 summer is shorter than any one    life is shorter than summer    seventy years is spent as quick as an only dollar    sorrow    now    is polite    and stays    see how well we spurn him    equally to abhor delight    equally retain him    1507 the pile of years is not so high as when you came before but it is rising every day from recollection's floor and while by standing on my heart i still can reach the top efface the mountain with your face and catch me ere i drop 1508 you cannot make remembrance grow when it has lost its root    the tightening the soil around and setting it upright deceives perhaps the universe but not retrieves the plant    real memory, like cedar feet is shod with adamant    nor can you cut remembrance down when it shall once have grown    its iron buds will sprout anew however overthrown    1509 mine enemy is growing old    i have at last revenge    the palate of the hate departs    if any would avenge let him be quick    the viand flits    it is a faded meat    anger as soon as fed is dead    'tis starving makes it fat    1510 how happy is the little stone that rambles in the road alone, and doesn't care about careers and exigencies never fears    whose coat of elemental brown a passing universe put on, and independent as the sun associates or glows alone, fulfilling absolute decree in casual simplicity    1511 my country need not change her gown, her triple suit as sweet as when 'twas cut at lexington, and first pronounced "a fit." great britain disapproves, "the stars"; disparagement discreet,    there's something in their attitude that taunts her bayonet. 1512 all things swept sole away this    is immensity    1513 "go travelling with us!" her travels daily be by routes of ecstasy to evening's sea    1514 an antiquated tree is cherished of the crow because that junior foliage is disrespectful now to venerable birds whose corporation coat would decorate oblivion's remotest consulate. 1515 the things that never can come back, are several    childhood    some forms of hope    the dead    though joys    like men    may sometimes make a journey    and still abide    we do not mourn for traveler, or sailor, their routes are fair    but think enlarged of all that they will tell us returning here    "here!" there are typic "heres"    foretold locations    the spirit does not stand    himself    at whatsoever fathom his native land    1516 no autumn's intercepting chill appalls this tropic breast    but african exuberance and asiatic rest. 1517 how much of source escapes with thee    how chief thy sessions be    for thou hast borne a universe entirely away. 1518 not seeing, still we know    not knowing, guess    not guessing, smile and hide and half caress    and quake    and turn away, seraphic fear    is eden's innuendo "if you dare"? 1519 the dandelion's pallid tube astonishes the grass, and winter instantly becomes an infinite alas    the tube uplifts a signal bud and then a shouting flower,    the proclamation of the suns that sepulture is o'er. 1520 the stem of a departed flower has still a silent rank. the bearer from an emerald court of a despatch of pink. 1521 the butterfly upon the sky, that doesn't know its name and hasn't any tax to pay and hasn't any home is just as high as you and i, and higher, i believe, so soar away and never sigh and that's the way to grieve    1522 his little hearse like figure unto itself a dirge to a delusive lilac the vanity divulge of industry and morals and every righteous thing for the divine perdition of idleness and spring    1523 we never know we go when we are going    we jest and shut the door    fate    following    behind us bolts it    and we accost no more    1524 a faded boy    in sallow clothes who drove a lonesome cow to pastures of oblivion    a statesman's embryo    the boys that whistled are extinct    the cows that fed and thanked remanded to a ballad's barn or clover's retrospect    1525 he lived the life of ambush and went the way of dusk and now against his subtle name there stands an asterisk as confident of him as we    impregnable we are    the whole of immortality intrenched within a star    1526 his oriental heresies exhilarate the bee, and filling all the earth and air with gay apostasy fatigued at last, a clover plain allures his jaded eye that lowly breast where butterflies have felt it meet to die    1527 oh give it motion    deck it sweet with artery and vein    upon its fastened lips lay words    affiance it again to that pink stranger we call dust    acquainted more with that than with this horizontal one that will not lift its hat    1528 the moon upon her fluent route defiant of a road    the star's etruscan argument substantiate a god    if aims impel these astral ones the ones allowed to know know that which makes them as forgot as dawn forgets them    now    1529 'tis seasons since the dimpled war in which we each were conqueror and each of us were slain and centuries 'twill be and more another massacre before so modest and so vain    without a formula we fought each was to each the pink redoubt    1530 a pang is more conspicuous in spring in contrast with the things that sing not birds entirely    but minds    minute effulgencies and winds    when what they sung for is undone who cares about a blue bird's tune    why, resurrection had to wait till they had moved a stone    1531 above oblivion's tide there is a pier and an effaceless "few" are lifted there    nay    lift themselves    fame has no arms    and but one smile    that meagres balms    1532 from all the jails the boys and girls ecstatically leap    beloved only afternoon that prison doesn't keep they storm the earth and stun the air, a mob of solid bliss    alas    that frowns should lie in wait for such a foe as this    1533 on that specific pillow our projects flit away    the night's tremendous morrow and whether sleep will stay or usher us    a stranger    to situations new the effort to comprise it is all the soul can do. 1534 society for me my misery since gift of thee    1535 the life that tied too tight escapes will ever after run with a prudential look behind and spectres of the rein    the horse that scents the living grass and sees the pastures smile will be retaken with a shot if he is caught at all    1536 there comes a warning like a spy a shorter breath of day a stealing that is not a stealth and summers are away    1537 candor    my tepid friend    come not to play with me    the myrrhs, and mochas, of the mind are its iniquity    1538 follow wise orion till you waste your eye    dazzlingly decamping he is just as high    1539 now i lay thee down to sleep    i pray the lord thy dust to keep    and if thou live before thou wake    i pray the lord thy soul to make    1540 as imperceptibly as grief the summer lapsed away    too imperceptible at last to seem like perfidy    a quietness distilled as twilight long begun, or nature spending with herself sequestered afternoon    the dusk drew earlier in    the morning foreign shone    a courteous, yet harrowing grace, as guest, that would be gone    and thus, without a wing or service of a keel our summer made her light escape into the beautiful. 1541 no matter where the saints abide, they make their circuit fair behold how great a firmament accompanies a star. 1542 come show thy durham breast to her who loves thee best, delicious robin    and if it be not me at least within my tree do the avowing    thy nuptial so minute perhaps is more astute than vaster suing    for so to soar away is our propensity the day ensuing    1543 obtaining but our own extent in whatsoever realm    'twas christ's own personal expanse that bore him from the tomb    1544 who has not found the heaven    below    will fail of it above    for angels rent the house next ours, wherever we remove    1545 the bible is an antique volume    written by faded men at the suggestion of holy spectres    subjects    bethlehem    eden    the ancient homestead    satan    the brigadier    judas    the great defaulter    david    the troubador    sin    a distinguished precipice others must resist    boys that "believe" are very lonesome    other boys are "lost"    had but the tale a warbling teller    all the boys would come    orpheus' sermon captivated    it did not condemn    1546 sweet pirate of the heart, not pirate of the sea, what wrecketh thee? some spice's mutiny    some attar's perfidy? confide in me. 1547 hope is a subtle glutton    he feeds upon the fair    and yet    inspected closely what abstinence is there    his is the halcyon table    that never seats but one    and whatsoever is consumed the same amount remain    1548 meeting by accident, we hovered by design    as often as a century an error so divine is ratified by destiny, but destiny is old and economical of bliss as midas is of gold    1549 my wars are laid away in books    i have one battle more    a foe whom i have never seen but oft has scanned me o'er    and hesitated me between and others at my side, but chose the best    neglecting me    till all the rest, have died    how sweet if i am not forgot by chums that passed away    since playmates at threescore and ten are such a scarcity    1550 the pattern of the sun can fit but him alone for sheen must have a disk to be a sun    1551 those    dying then, knew where they went    they went to god's right hand    that hand is amputated now and god cannot be found    the abdication of belief makes the behavior small    better an ignis fatuus than no illume at all    1552 within thy grave! oh no, but on some other flight    thou only camest to mankind to rend it with good night    1553 bliss is the plaything of the child    the secret of the man the sacred stealth of boy and girl rebuke it if we can 1554 "go tell it"    what a message    to whom    is specified    not murmur    not endearment    but simply    we    obeyed    obeyed    a lure    a longing? oh nature    none of this    to law    said sweet thermopylae i give my dying kiss    1555 i groped for him before i knew with solemn nameless need all other bounty sudden chaff for this foreshadowed food which others taste and spurn and sneer    though i within suppose that consecrated it could be the only food that grows 1556 image of light, adieu    thanks for the interview    so long    so short    preceptor of the whole    coeval cardinal    impart    depart    1557 lives he in any other world my faith cannot reply before it was imperative 'twas all distinct to me    1558 of death i try to think like this    the well in which they lay us is but the likeness of the brook that menaced not to slay us, but to invite by that dismay which is the zest of sweetness to the same flower hesperian, decoying but to greet us    i do remember when a child with bolder playmates straying to where a brook that seemed a sea withheld us by its roaring from just the purple flower beyond until constrained to clutch it if doom itself were the result, the boldest leaped, and clutched it    1559 tried always and condemned by thee permit me this reprieve that dying i may earn the look for which i cease to live    1560 to be forgot by thee surpasses memory of other minds the heart cannot forget unless it contemplate what it declines i was regarded then raised from oblivion a single time to be remembered what    worthy to be forgot is my renown 1561 no brigadier throughout the year so civic as the jay    a neighbor and a warrior too with shrill felicity pursuing winds that censure us a february day, the brother of the universe was never blown away    the snow and he are intimate    i've often seem them play when heaven looked upon us all with such severity i felt apology were due to an insulted sky whose pompous frown was nutriment to their temerity    the pillow of this daring head is pungent evergreens    his larder    terse and militant    unknown    refreshing things    his character    a tonic    his future    a dispute    unfair an immortality that leaves this neighbor out    1562 her losses make our gains ashamed    she bore life's empty pack as gallantly as if the east were swinging at her back. life's empty pack is heaviest, as every porter knows    in vain to punish honey    it only sweeter grows. 1563 by homely gift and hindered words the human heart is told of nothing    "nothing" is the force that renovates the world    1564 pass to they rendezvous of light, pangless except for us    who slowly for the mystery which thou hast leaped across! 1565 some arrows slay but whom they strike    but this slew all but him    who so appareled his escape    too trackless for a tomb    1566 climbing to reach the costly hearts to which he gave the worth, he broke them, fearing punishment he ran away from earth    1567 the heart has many doors    i can but knock    for any sweet "come in" impelled to hark    not saddened by repulse, repast to me that somewhere, there exists, supremacy    1568 to see her is a picture    to hear her is a tune    to know her an intemperance as innocent as june    to know her not    affliction    to own her for a friend a warmth as near as if the sun were shining in your hand. 1569 the clock strikes one that just struck two    some schism in the sum    a vagabond for genesis has wrecked the pendulum    1570 forever honored by the tree whose apple winterworn enticed to breakfast from the sky two gabriels yestermorn. they registered in nature's book as robins    sire and son    but angels have that modest way to screen them from renown. 1571 how slow the wind    how slow the sea    how late their fathers be! 1572 we wear our sober dresses when we die, but summer, frilled as for a holiday adjourns her sigh    1573 to the bright east she flies, brothers of paradise remit her home, without a change of wings, or love's convenient things, enticed to come. fashioning what she is, fathoming what she was, we deem we dream    and that dissolves the days through which existence strays homeless at home. 1574 no ladder needs the bird but skies to situate its wings, nor any leader's grim baton arraigns it as it sings. the implements of bliss are few    as jesus says of him, "come unto me" the moiety that wafts the cherubim. 1575 the bat is dun, with wrinkled wings    like fallow article    and not a song pervade his lips    or none perceptible. his small umbrella quaintly halved describing in the air an arc alike inscrutable elate philosopher. deputed from what firmament    of what astute abode    empowered with what malignity auspiciously withheld    to his adroit creator acribe no less the praise    beneficent, believe me, his eccentricities    1576 the spirit lasts    but in what mode    below, the body speaks, but as the spirit furnishes    apart, it never talks    the music in the violin does not emerge alone but arm in arm with touch, yet touch alone    is not a tune    the spirit lurks within the flesh like tides within the sea that make the water live, estranged what would the either be? does that know    now    or does it cease    that which to this is done, resuming at a mutual date with every future one? instinct pursues the adamant, exacting this reply    adversity if it may be, or wild prosperity, the rumor's gate was shut so tight before my mind was sown, not even a prognostic's push could make a dent thereon    1577 morning is due to all    to some    the night    to an imperial few    the auroral light. 1578 blossoms will run away, cakes reign but a day, but memory like melody is pink eternally. 1579 it would not know if it were spurned, this gallant little flower    how therefore safe to be a flower if one would tamper there. to enter, it would not aspire    but may it not despair that it is not a cavalier, to dare and perish there? 1580 we shun it ere it comes, afraid of joy, then sue it to delay and lest it fly, beguile it more and more    may not this be old suitor heaven, like our dismay at thee? 1581 the farthest thunder that i heard was nearer than the sky and rumbles still, though torrid noons have lain their missiles by    the lightning that preceded it struck no one but myself    but i would not exchange the bolt for all the rest of life    indebtedness to oxygen the happy may repay, but not the obligation to electricity    it founds the homes and decks the days and every clamor bright is but the gleam concomitant of that waylaying light    the thought is quiet as a flake    a crash without a sound, how life's reverberation its explanation found    1582 where roses would not dare to go, what heart would risk the way    and so i send my crimson scouts to sound the enemy    1583 witchcraft was hung, in history, but history and i find all the witchcraft that we need around us, every day    1584 expanse cannot be lost    not joy, but a decree is deity    his scene, infinity    whose rumor's gate was shut so tight before my beam was sown, not even a prognostic's push could make a dent thereon    the world that thou hast opened shuts for thee, but not alone, we all have followed thee    escape more slowly to thy tracts of sheen    the tent is listening, but the troops are gone! 1585 the bird her punctual music brings and lays it in its place    its place is in the human heart and in the heavenly grace    what respite from her thrilling toil did beauty ever take    but work might be electric rest to those that magic make    1586 to her derided home a weed of summer came    she did not know her station low nor ignominy's name    bestowed a summer long upon a frameless flower    then swept as lightly from disdain as lady from her bower    of bliss the codes are few    as jesus cites of him    "come unto me" the moiety that wafts the seraphim    1587 he ate and drank the precious words    his spirit grew robust    he knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was dust    he danced along the dingy days and this bequest of wings was but a book    what liberty a loosened spirit brings    1588 this me    that walks and works    must die, some fair or stormy day, adversity if it may be or wild prosperity the rumor's gate was shut so tight before my mind was born not even a prognostic's push can make a dent thereon    1589 cosmopolities without a plea alight in every land the compliments of paradise from those within my hand their dappled journey to themselves a compensation fair knock and it shall be opened is their theology 1590 not at home to callers says the naked tree    bonnet due in april    wishing you good day    1591 the bobolink is gone    the rowdy of the meadow    and no one swaggers now but me    the presbyterian birds can now resume the meeting he boldly interrupted that overflowing day when supplicating mercy in a portentous way he swung upon the decalogue and shouted let us pray    1592 the lassitudes of contemplation beget a force they are the spirit's still vacation that him refresh    the dreams consolidate in action    what mettle fair 1593 there came a wind like a bugle    it quivered through the grass and a green chill upon the heat so ominous did pass we barred the windows and the doors as from an emerald ghost    the doom's electric moccasin that very instant passed    on a strange mob of panting trees and fences fled away and rivers where the houses ran those looked that lived    that day    the bell within the steeple wild the flying tidings told    how much can come and much can go, and yet abide the world! 1594 immured in heaven! what a cell! let every bondage be, thou sweetest of the universe, like that which ravished thee! 1595 declaiming waters none may dread    but waters that are still are so for that most fatal cause in nature    they are full    1596 few, yet enough, enough is one    to that ethereal throng have not each one of us the right to stealthily belong? 1597 'tis not the swaying frame we miss, it is the steadfast heart, that had it beat a thousand years, with love alone had bent, its fervor the electric oar, that bore it through the tomb, ourselves, denied the privilege, consolelessly presume    1598 who is it seeks my pillow nights    with plain inspecting face    "did you" or "did you not," to ask    'tis "conscience"    childhood's nurse    with martial hand she strokes the hair upon my wincing head    "all" rogues "shall have their part in" what    the phosphorous of god    1599 though the great waters sleep, that they are still the deep, we cannot doubt    no vacillating god ignited this abode to put it out    1600 upon his saddle sprung a bird and crossed a thousand trees before a fence without a fare his fantasy did please and then he lifted up his throat and squandered such a note a universe that overheard is stricken by it yet    1601 of god we ask one favor, that we may be forgiven    for what, he is presumed to know    the crime, from us, is hidden    immured the whole of life within a magic prison we reprimand the happiness that too competes with heaven. 1602 pursuing you in your transitions, in other motes    of other myths your requisition be. the prism never held the hues, it only heard them play    1603 the going from a world we know to one a wonder still is like the child's adversity whose vista is a hill, behind the hill is sorcery and everything unknown, but will the secret compensate for climbing it alone? 1604 we send the wave to find the wave    an errand so divine, the messenger enamored too, forgetting to return, we make the wise distinction still, soever made in vain, the sagest time to dam the sea is when the sea is gone    1605 each that we lose takes part of us; a crescent still abides, which like the moon, some turbid night, is summoned by the tides. 1606 quite empty, quite at rest, the robin locks her nest, and tries her wings. she does not know a route but puts her craft about for rumored springs    she does not ask for noon    she does not ask for boon, crumbless and homeless, of but one request    the birds she lost    1607 within that little hive such hints of honey lay as made reality a dream and dreams, reality    1608 the ecstasy to guess were a receipted bliss if grace could talk. 1609 sunset that screens, reveals    enhancing what we see by menaces of amethyst and moats of mystery. 1610 morning that comes but once, considers coming twice    two dawns upon a single morn, make life a sudden price. 1611 their dappled importunity disparage or dismiss    the obloquies of etiquette are obsolete to bliss    1612 the auctioneer of parting his "going, going, gone" shouts even from the crucifix, and brings his hammer down    he only sells the wilderness, the prices of despair range from a single human heart to two    not any more    1613 not sickness stains the brave, nor any dart, nor doubt of scene to come, but an adjourning heart    1614 parting with thee reluctantly, that we have never met, a heart sometimes a foreigner, remembers it forgot    1615 oh what a grace is this, what majesties of peace, that having breathed the fine    ensuing right without diminuet proceed! 1616 who abdicated ambush and went the way of dusk, and now against his subtle name there stands an asterisk as confident of him as we    impregnable we are    the whole of immortality secreted in a star. 1617 to try to speak, and miss the way and ask it of the tears, is gratitude's sweet poverty, the tatters that he wears    a better coat if he possessed would help him to conceal, not subjugate, the mutineer whose title is "the soul." 1618 there are two mays and then a must and after that a shall. how infinite the compromise that indicates i will! 1619 not knowing when the dawn will come, i open every door, or has it feathers, like a bird, or billows, like a shore    1620 circumference thou bride of awe possessing thou shalt be possessed by every hallowed knight that dares to covet thee 1621 a flower will not trouble her, it has so small a foot, and yet if you compare the lasts, hers is the smallest boot    1622 a sloop of amber slips away upon an ether sea, and wrecks in peace a purple tar, the son of ecstasy    1623 a world made penniless by that departure of minor fabrics begs but sustenance is of the spirit the gods but dregs 1624 apparently with no surprise to any happy flower the frost beheads it at its play    in accidental power    the blonde assassin passes on    the sun proceeds unmoved to measure off another day for an approving god. 1625 back from the cordial grave i drag thee he shall not take thy hand nor put his spacious arm around thee that none can understand 1626 no life can pompless pass away    the lowliest career to the same pageant wends its way as that exalted here    how cordial is the mystery! the hospitable pall a "this way" beckons spaciously    a miracle for all! 1627 the pedigree of honey does not concern the bee, nor lineage of ecstasy delay the butterfly on spangle journeys to the peak of some perceiveless thing    the right of way to tripoli a more essential thing.    the pedigree of honey does not concern the bee    a clover, any time, to him, is aristocracy    1628 a drunkard cannot meet a cork without a revery    and so encountering a fly this january day jamaicas of remembrance stir that send me reeling in    the moderate drinker of delight does not deserve the spring    of juleps, part are the jug and more are in the joy    your connoisseur in liquours consults the bumble bee    1629 arrows enamored of his heart    forgot to rankle there and venoms he mistook for balms disdained to rankle there    1630 as from the earth the light balloon asks nothing but release    ascension that for which it was, its soaring residence. the spirit looks upon the dust that fastened it so long with indignation, as a bird defrauded of its song. 1631 oh future! thou secreted peace or subterranean woe    is there no wandering route of grace that leads away from thee    no circuit sage of all the course descried by cunning men to balk thee of thy sacred prey    advancing to thy den    1632 so give me back to death    the death i never feared except that it deprived of thee    and now, by life deprived, in my own grave i breathe and estimate its size    its size is all that hell can guess    and all that heaven was    1633 still own thee    still thou art what surgeons call alive    though slipping    slipping i perceive to thy reportless grave    which question shall i clutch    what answer wrest from thee before thou dost exude away in the recallless sea? 1634 talk not to me of summer trees the foliage of the mind a tabernacle is for birds of no corporeal kind and winds do go that way at noon to their ethereal homes whose bugles call the least of us to undepicted realms 1635 the jay his castanet has struck put on your muff for winter the tippet that ignores his voice is impudent to nature of swarthy days he is the close his lotus is a chestnut the cricket drops a sable line no more from yours at present 1636 the sun in reigning to the west makes not as much of sound as cart of man in road below adroitly turning round that whiffletree of amethyst 1637 is it too late to touch you, dear? we this moment knew    love marine and love terrene    love celestial too    1638 go thy great way! the stars thou meetst are even as thyself    for what are stars but asterisks to point a human life? 1639 a letter is a joy of earth    it is denied the gods    1640 take all away from me, but leave me ecstasy, and i am richer then than all my fellow men    ill it becometh me to dwell so wealthily when at my very door are those possessing more, in abject poverty    1641 betrothed to righteousness might be an ecstasy discreet but nature relishes the pinks which she was taught to eat    1642 "red sea," indeed! talk not to me of purple pharaoh    i have a navy in the west would pierce his columns thro'    guileless, yet of such glory fine that all along the line is it, or is it not, divine    the eye inquires with a sigh that earth sh'd be so big    what exultation in the woe    what wine in the fatigue! 1643 extol thee    could i? then i will by saying nothing new    but just the truest truth that thou art heavenly. perceiving thee is evidence that we are of the sky partaking thee a guaranty of immortality 1644 some one prepared this mighty show to which without a ticket go the nations and the days    displayed before the simplest door that all may witness it and more, the pomp of summer days. 1645 the ditch is dear to the drunken man for is it not his bed    his advocate    his edifice? how safe his fallen head in her disheveled sanctity    above him is the sky    oblivion bending over him and honor leagues away. 1646 why should we hurry    why indeed? when every way we fly we are molested equally by immortality. no respite from the inference that this which is begun, though where its labors lie a bland uncertainty besets the sight this mighty night    1647 of glory not a beam is left but her eternal house    the asterisk is for the dead, the living, for the stars    1648 the immortality she gave we borrowed at her grave    for just one plaudit famishing, the might of human love    1649 a cap of lead across the sky was tight and surly drawn we could not find the mighty face the figure was withdrawn    a chill came up as from a shaft our noon became a well a thunder storm combines the charms of winter and of hell. 1650 a lane of yellow led the eye unto a purple wood whose soft inhabitants to be surpasses solitude if bird the silence contradict or flower presume to show in that low summer of the west impossible to know    1651 a word made flesh is seldom and tremblingly partook nor then perhaps reported but have i not mistook each one of us has tasted with ecstasies of stealth the very food debated to our specific strength    a word that breathes distinctly has not the power to die cohesive as the spirit it may expire if he    "made flesh and dwelt among us" could condescension be like this consent of language this loved philology. 1652 advance is life's condition the grave but a relay supposed to be a terminus that makes it hated so    the tunnel is not lighted existence with a wall is better we consider than not exist at all    1653 as we pass houses musing slow if they be occupied so minds pass minds if they be occupied 1654 beauty crowds me till i die beauty mercy have on me but if i expire today let it be in sight of thee    1655 conferring with myself my stranger disappeared though first upon a berry fat miraculously fared how paltry looked my cares my practise how absurd superfluous my whole career beside this travelling bird 1656 down time's quaint stream without an oar we are enforced to sail our port a secret our perchance a gale what skipper would incur the risk what buccaneer would ride without a surety from the wind or schedule of the tide    1657 eden is that old fashioned house we dwell in every day without suspecting our abode until we drive away. how fair on looking back, the day we sauntered from the door    unconscious our returning, but discover it no more. 1658 endanger it, and the demand of tickets for a sigh amazes the humility of credibility    recover it to nature and that dejected fleet find consternation's carnival divested of its meat. 1659 fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate whose table once a guest but not the second time is set. whose crumbs the crows inspect and with ironic caw flap past it to the farmer's corn    men eat of it and die. 1660 glory is that bright tragic thing that for an instant means dominion    warms some poor name that never felt the sun, gently replacing in oblivion    1661 guest am i to have light my northern room why to cordiality so averse to come other friends adjourn other bonds decay why avoid so narrowly my fidelity    1662 he went by sleep that drowsy route to the surmising inn    at day break to begin his race or ever to remain    1663 his mind of man, a secret makes i meet him with a start he carries a circumference in which i have no part    or even if i deem i do he otherwise may know impregnable to inquest however neighborly    1664 i did not reach thee but my feet slip nearer every day three rivers and a hill to cross one desert and a sea i shall not count the journey one when i am telling thee. two deserts, but the year is cold so that will help the sand one desert crossed    the second one will feel as cool as land sahara is too little price to pay for thy right hand. the sea comes last    step merry, feet, so short we have to go    to play together we are prone, but we must labor now, the last shall be the lightest load that we have had to draw. the sun goes crooked    that is night before he makes the bend. we must have passed the middle sea    almost we wish the end were further off    too great it seems so near the whole to stand. we step like plush, we stand like snow, the waters murmur new. three rivers and the hill are passed    two deserts and the sea! now death usurps my premium and gets the look at thee. 1665 i know of people in the grave who would be very glad to know the news i know tonight if they the chance had had. 'tis this expands the least event and swells the scantest deed    my right to walk upon the earth if they this moment had. 1666 i see thee clearer for the grave that took thy face between no mirror could illumine thee like that impassive stone    i know thee better for the act that made thee first unknown the stature of the empty nest attests the bird that's gone. 1667 i watcher her face to see which way she took the awful news    whether she died before she heard or in protracted bruise remained a few slow years with us    each heavier than the last    a further afternoon to fail, as flower at fall of frost. 1668 if i could tell how glad i was i should not be so glad    but when i cannot make the force, nor mould it into word, i know it is a sign that new dilemna be from mathematics further off than for eternity. 1669 in snow thou comest    thou shalt go with the resuming ground, the sweet derision of the crow, and glee's advancing sound. in fear thou comest    thou shalt go at such a gait of joy that man anew embark to live upon the depth of thee. 1670 in winter in my room i came upon a worm    pink, lank and warm    but as he was a worm and worms presume not quite with him at home    secured him by a string to something neighboring and went along. a trifle afterward a thing occurred i'd not believe it if i heard but state with creeping blood    a snake with mottles rare surveyed my chamber floor in feature as the worm before but ringed with power    the very string with which i tied him    too when he was mean and new that string was there    i shrank    "how fair you are"! propitiation's claw    "afraid," he hissed "of me"? "no cordiality"    he fathomed me    then to a rhythm slim secreted in his form as patterns swim projected him. that time i flew both eyes his way lest he pursue nor ever ceased to run till in a distant town towns on from mine i set me down this was a dream. 1671 judgment is justest when the judged, his action laid away, divested is of every disk but his sincerity. honor is then the safest hue in a posthumous sun    not any color will endure that scrutiny can burn. 1672 lightly stepped a yellow star to its lofty place    loosed the moon her silver hat from her lustral face    all of evening softly lit as an astral hall    father, i observed to heaven, you are punctual. 1673 nature can do no more she has fulfilled her dyes whatever flower fail to come of other summer days her crescent reimburse if other summers be nature's imposing negative nulls opportunity    1674 not any sunny tone from any fervent zone find entrance there    better a grave of balm toward human nature's home    and robins near    than a stupendous tomb proclaiming to the gloom how dead we are    1675 of this is day composed a morning and a noon a revelry unspeakable and then a gay unknown whose pomps allure and spurn and dower and deprive and penury for glory remedilessly leave. 1676 of yellow was the outer sky in yellower yellow hewn till saffron in vermilion slid whose seam could not be shewn. 1677 on my volcano grows the grass a meditative spot    an acre for a bird to choose would be the general thought    how red the fire rocks below    how insecure the sod did i disclose would populate with awe my solitude. 1678 peril as a possesssion 'tis good to hear danger disintegrates satiety there's basis there    begets an awe that searches human nature's creases as clean as fire. 1679 rather arid delight if contentment accrue make an abstemious ecstasy not so good as joy    but rapture's expense must not be incurred with a tomorrow knocking and the rent unpaid    1680 sometimes with the heart seldom with the soul scarcer once with the might few    love at all. 1681 speech is one symptom of affection and silence one    the perfectest communication is heard of none    exists and its indorsement is had within    behold, said the apostle, yet had not seen! 1682 summer begins to have the look peruser of enchanting book reluctantly but sure perceives a gain upon the backward leaves    autumn begins to be inferred by millinery of the cloud or deeper color in the shawl that wraps the everlasting hill. the eye begins its avarice a meditation chastens speech some dyer of a distant tree resumes his gaudy industry. conclusion is the course of all at most to be perennial and then elude stability recalls to immortality. 1683 that she forgot me was the least i felt it second pain that i was worthy to forget was most i thought upon. faithful was all that i could boast but constancy became to her, by her innominate, a something like a shame. 1684 the blunder is in estimate. eternity is there we say, as of a station    meanwhile he is so near he joins me in my ramble    divides abode with me    no friend have i that so persists as this eternity. 1685 the butterfly obtains but little sympathy though favorably mentioned in entomology    because he travels freely and wears a proper coat the circumspect are certain that he is dissolute    had he the homely scutcheon of modest industry 'twere fitter certifying for immortality    1686 the event was directly behind him yet he did not guess fitted itself to himself like a robe relished his ignorance. motioned itself to drill loaded and levelled and let his flesh centuries from his soul. 1687 the gleam of an heroic act such strange illumination the possible's slow fuse is lit by the imagination. 1688 the hills erect their purple heads the rivers lean to see yet man has not of all the throng a curiosity. 1689 the look of thee, what is it like hast thou a hand or foot or mansion of identity and what is thy pursuit? thy fellows are they realms or themes hast thou delight or fear or longing    and is that for us or values more severe? let change transfuse all other traits enact all other blame but deign this least certificate    that thou shalt be the same. 1690 the ones that disappeared are back the phoebe and the crow precisely as in march is heard the curtness of the jay    be this an autumn or a spring my wisdom loses way one side of me the nuts are ripe the other side is may. 1691 the overtakelessness of those who have accomplished death majestic is to me beyond the majesties of earth. the soul her "not at home" inscribes upon the flesh    and takes her fair aerial gait beyond the hope of touch. 1692 the right to perish might be thought an undisputed right    attempt it, and the universe upon the opposite will concentrate its officers    you cannot even die but nature and mankind must pause to pay you scrutiny. 1693 the sun retired to a cloud a woman's shawl as big    and then he sulked in mercury upon a scarlet log    the drops on nature's forehead stood home flew the loaded bees    the south unrolled a purple fan and handed to the trees. 1694 the wind drew off like hungry dogs defeated of a bone    through fissures in volcanic cloud the yellow lightning shone    the trees held up their mangled limbs like animals in pain    when nature falls upon herself beware an austrian. 1695 there is a solitude of space a solitude of sea a solitude of death, but these society shall be compared with that profounder site that polar privacy a soul admitted to itself    finite infinity. 1696 these are the days that reindeer love and pranks the northern star    this is the sun's objective, and finland of the year. 1697 they talk as slow as legends grow no mushroom is their mind but foliage of sterility too stolid for the wind    they laugh as wise as plots of wit predestined to unfold the point with bland prevision portentously untold. 1698 'tis easier to pity those when dead that which pity previous would have saved    a tragedy enacted secures applause that tragedy enacting too seldom does. 1699 to do a magnanimous thing and take oneself by surprise if oneself is not in the habit of him is precisely the finest of joys    not to do a magnanimous thing notwithstanding it never be known notwithstanding it cost us existence once is rapture herself spurn    1700 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    1701 to their apartment deep no ribaldry may creep untumbled this abode by any man but god    1702 today or this noon she dwelt so close i almost touched her    tonight she lies past neighborhood and bough and steeple, now past surmise. 1703 '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 to hear the children play    but wrong the more that these could live and this of ours must die. 1704 unto a broken heart no other one may go without the high prerogative itself hath suffered too. 1705 volcanoes be in sicily and south america i judge from my geography    volcanos nearer here a lava step at any time am i inclined to climb    a crater i may contemplate vesuvius at home. 1706 when we have ceased to care the gift is given for which we gave the earth and mortgaged heaven but so declined in worth 'tis ignominy now to look upon    1707 winter under cultivation is as arable as spring. 1708 witchcraft has not a pedigree 'tis early as our breath and mourners meet it going out the moment of our death    1709 with sweetness unabated informed the hour had come with no remiss of triumph the autumn started home her home to be with nature as competition done by influential kinsmen invited to return    in supplements of purple an adequate repast in heavenly reviewing her residue be past    1710 a curious cloud surprised the sky, 'twas like a sheet with horns; the sheet was blue    the antlers gray    it almost touched the lawns. so low it leaned    then statelier drew    and trailed like robes away, a queen adown a satin aisle had not the majesty. 1711 a face devoid of love or grace, a hateful, hard, successful face, a face with which a stone would feel as thoroughly at ease as were they old acquaintances    first time together thrown. 1712 a pit    but heaven over it    and heaven beside, and heaven abroad, and yet a pit    with heaven over it. to stir would be to slip    to look would be to drop    to dream    to sap the prop that holds my chances up. ah! pit! with heaven over it! the depth is all my thought    i dare not ask my feet    'twould start us where we sit so straight you'd scarce suspect it was a pit    with fathoms under it    its circuit just the same. seed    summer    tomb    whose doom to whom? 1713 as subtle as tomorrow that never came, a warrant, a conviction, yet but a name. 1714 by a departing light we see acuter, quite, than by a wick that stays. there's something in the flight that clarifies the sight and decks the rays. 1715 consulting summer's clock, but half the hours remain. i ascertain it with a shock    i shall not look again. the second half of joy is shorter than the first. the truth i do not dare to know i muffle with a jest. 1716 death is like the insect menacing the tree, competent to kill it, but decoyed may be. bait it with the balsam, seek it with the saw, baffle, if it cost you everything you are. then, if it have burrowed out of reach of skill    wring the tree and leave it, 'tis the vermin's will. 1717 did life's penurious length italicize its sweetness, the men that daily live would stand so deep in joy that it would clog the cogs of that revolving reason whose esoteric belt protects our sanity. 1718 drowning is not so pitiful as the attempt to rise three times, 'tis said, a sinking man comes up to face the skies, and then declines forever to that abhorred abode, where hope and he part company    for he is grasped of god. the maker's cordial visage, however good to see, is shunned, we must admit it, like an adversity. 1719 god is indeed a jealous god    he cannot bear to see that we had rather not with him but with each other play. 1720 had i known that the first was the last i should have kept it longer. had i known that the last was the first i should have drunk it stronger. cup, it was your fault, lip was not the liar. no, lip, it was yours, bliss was most to blame. 1721 he was my host    he was my guest, i never to this day if i invited him could tell, or he invited me. so infinite our intercourse so intimate, indeed, analysis as capsule seemed to keeper of the seed. 1722 her face was in a bed of hair, like flowers in a plot    her hand was whiter than the sperm that feeds the sacred light. her tongue more tender than the tune that totters in the leaves    who hears may be incredulous, who witnesses, believes. 1723 high from the earth i heard a bird, he trod upon the trees as he esteemed them trifles, and then he spied a breeze, and situated softly upon a pile of wind which in a perturbation nature had left behind. a joyous going fellow i gathered from his talk which both of benediction and badinage partook. without apparent burden i subsequently learned he was the faithful father of a dependent brood. and this untoward transport his remedy for care. a contrast to our respites. how different we are! 1724 how dare the robins sing, when men and women hear who since they went to their account have settled with the year!    paid all that life had earned in one consummate bill, and now, what life or death can do is immaterial. insulting is the sun to him whose mortal light beguiled of immortality bequeaths him to the night. extinct be every hum in deference to him whose garden wrestles with the dew, at daybreak overcome! 1725 i took one draught of life    i'll tell you what i paid    precisely an existence    the market price, they said. they weighed me, dust by dust    they balanced film with film, then handed me my being's worth    a single dram of heaven! 1726 if all the griefs i am to have would only come today, i am so happy i believe they'd laugh and run away. if all the joys i am to have would only come today, they could not be so big as this that happens to me now. 1727 if ever the lid gets off my head and lets the brain away the fellow will go where he belonged    without a hint from me, and the world    if the world be looking on    will see how far from home it is possible for sense to live the soul there    all the time. 1728 is immortality a bane that men are so oppressed? 1729 i've got an arrow here. loving the hand that sent it i the dart revere. fell, they will say, in "skirmish"! vanquished, my soul will know by but a simple arrow sped by an archer's bow. 1730 "lethe" in my flower, of which they who drink in the fadeless orchards hear the bobolink! merely flake or petal as the eye beholds jupiter! my father! i perceive the rose! 1731 love can do all but raise the dead i doubt if even that from such a giant were withheld were flesh equivalent but love is tired and must sleep, and hungry and must graze and so abets the shining fleet till it is out of gaze. 1732 my life closed twice before its close    it yet remains to see if immortality unveil a third event to me so huge, so hopeless to conceive as these that twice befell. parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell. 1733 no man saw awe, nor to his house admitted he a man though by his awful residence has human nature been. not deeming of his dread abode till laboring to flee a grasp on comprehension laid detained vitality. returning is a different route the spirit could not show for breathing is the only work to be enacted now. "am not consumed," old moses wrote, "yet saw him face to face"    that very physiognomy i am convinced was this. 1734 oh, honey of an hour, i never knew thy power, prohibit me till my minutest dower, my unfrequented flower, deserving be. 1735 one crown that no one seeks and yet the highest head its isolation coveted its stigma deified while pontius pilate lives in whatsoever hell that coronation pierces him he recollects it well. 1736 proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it, proud of the pain i did not feel till thee, proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it, not to partake thy passion, my humility. thou can'st not boast, like jesus, drunken without companion was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the nazarene thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture, see! i usurped thy crucifix to honor mine! 1737 rearrange a "wife's" affection! when they dislocate my brain! amputate my freckled bosom! make me bearded like a man! blush, my spirit, in thy fastness    blush, my unacknowledged clay    seven years of troth have taught thee more than wifehood every may! love that never leaped its socket    trust entrenched in narrow pain    constancy thro' fire    awarded    anguish    bare of anodyne! burden    borne so far triumphant    none suspect me of the crown, for i wear the "thorns" till sunset    then    my diadem put on. big my secret but it's bandaged    it will never get away till the day its weary keeper leads it through the grave to thee. 1738 softened by time's consummate plush, how sleek the woe appears that threatened childhood's citadel and undermined the years. bisected now, by bleaker griefs, we envy the despair that devastated childhood's realm, so easy to repair. 1739 some say goodnight    at night    i say goodnight by day    good bye    the going utter me    goodnight, i still reply    for parting, that is night, and presence, simply dawn    itself, the purple on the height denominated morn. 1740 sweet is the swamp with its secrets, until we meet a snake; 'tis then we sigh for houses, and our departure take at that enthralling gallop that only childhood knows. a snake is summer's treason, and guile is where it goes. 1741 that it will never come again is what makes life so sweet. believing what we don't believe does not exhilarate. that if it be, it be at best an ablative estate    this instigates an appetite precisely opposite. 1742 the distance that the dead have gone does not at first appear    their coming back seems possible for many an ardent year. and then, that we have followed them, we more than half suspect, so intimate have we become with their dear retrospect. 1743 the grave my little cottage is, where "keeping house" for thee i make my parlor orderly and lay the marble tea. for two divided, briefly, a cycle, it may be, till everlasting life unite in strong society. 1744 the joy that has no stem no core, nor seed that we can sow, is edible to longing. but ablative to show. by fundamental palates those products are preferred impregnable to transit and patented by pod. 1745 the mob within the heart police cannot suppress the riot given at the first is authorized as peace uncertified of scene or signified of sound but growing like a hurricane in a congenial ground. 1746 the most important population unnoticed dwell, they have a heaven each instant not any hell. their names, unless you know them, 'twere useless tell. of bumble bees and other nations the grass is full. 1747 the parasol is the umbrella's daughter, and associates with a fan while her father abuts the tempest and abridges the rain. the former assists a siren in her serene display; but her father is borne and honored, and borrowed to this day. 1748 the reticent volcano keeps his never slumbering plan    confided are his projects pink to no precarious man. if nature will not tell the tale jehovah told to her can human nature not survive without a listener? admonished by her buckled lips let every babbler be the only secret people keep is immortality. 1749 the waters chased him as he fled, not daring look behind    a billow whispered in his ear, "come home with me, my friend    my parlor is of shriven glass, my pantry has a fish for every palate in the year"    to this revolting bliss the object floating at his side made no distinct reply. 1750 the words the happy say are paltry melody but those the silent feel are beautiful    1751 there comes an hour when begging stops, when the long interceding lips perceive their prayer is vain. "thou shalt not" is a kinder sword than from a disappointing god "disciple, call again." 1752 this docile one inter while we who dare to live arraign the sunny brevity that sparkled to the grave. on her departing span no wilderness remain as dauntless in the house of death as if it were her own    1753 through those old grounds of memory, the sauntering alone is a divine intemperance a prudent man would shun. of liquors that are vended 'tis easy to beware but statutes do not meddle with the internal bar. pernicious as the sunset permitting to pursue but impotent to gather, the tranquil perfidy alloys our firmer moments with that severest gold convenient to the longing but otherwise withheld. 1754 to lose thee    sweeter than to gain all other hearts i knew. 'tis true the drought is destitute, but then, i had the dew! the caspian has its realms of sand, its other realm of sea. without the sterile perquisite, no caspian could be. 1755 to make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, one clover, and a bee, and revery. the revery alone will do, if bees are few. 1756 'twas here my summer paused what ripeness after then to other scene or other soul my sentence had begun. to winter to remove with winter to abide go manacle your icicle against your tropic bride. 1757 upon the gallows hung a wretch, too sullied for the hell to which the law entitled him. as nature's curtain fell the one who bore him tottered in ,    for this was woman's son. "'twere all i had," she stricken gasped    oh, what a livid boon! 1758 where every bird is bold to go and bees abashless play, the foreigner before he knocks must thrust the tears away. 1759 which misses most, the hand that tends, or heart so gently borne, 'tis twice as heavy as it was because the hand is gone? which blesses most, the lip that can, or that that went to sleep with "if i could" endeavoring without the strength to shape? 1760 elysium is as far as to the very nearest room if in that room a friend await felicity or doom    what fortitude the soul contains, that it can so endure the accent of a coming foot    the opening of a door    1761 a train went through a burial gate, a bird broke forth and sang, and trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat till all the churchyard rang; and then adjusted his little notes, and bowed and sang again. doubtless, he thought it meet of him to say good by to men. 1762 were natural mortal lady who had so little time to pack her trunk and order the great exchange of clime    how rapid, how momentous    what exigencies were    but nature will be ready and have an hour to spare. to make some trifle fairer that was too fair before    enchanting by remaining, and by departure more. 1763 fame is a bee. it has a song    it has a sting    ah, too, it has a wing. 1764 the saddest noise, the sweetest noise, the maddest noise that grows,    the birds, they make it in the spring, at night's delicious close. between the march and april line    that magical frontier beyond which summer hesitates, almost too heavenly near. it makes us think of all the dead that sauntered with us here, by separation's sorcery made cruelly more dear. it makes us think of what we had, and what we now deplore. we almost wish those siren throats would go and sing no more. an ear can break a human heart as quickly as a spear, we wish the ear had not a heart so dangerously near. 1765 that love is all there is, is all we know of love; it is enough, the freight should be proportioned to the groove. 1766 those final creatures,    who they are    that, faithful to the close, administer her ecstasy, but just the summer knows. 1767 sweet hours have perished here; this is a mighty room; within its precincts hopes have played,    now shadows in the tomb. 1768 lad of athens, faithful be to thyself, and mystery    all the rest is perjury    1769 the longest day that god appoints will finish with the sun. anguish can travel to its stake, and then it must return. 1770 experiment escorts us last    his pungent company will not allow an axiom an opportunity 1771 how fleet    how indiscreet an one    how always wrong is love    the joyful little deity we are not scourged to serve    1772 let me not thirst with this hock at my lip, nor beg, with domains in my pocket    1773 the summer that we did not prize, her treasures were so easy instructs us by departing now and recognition lazy    bestirs itself    puts on its coat, and scans with fatal promptness for trains that moment out of sight, unconscious of his smartness. 1774 too happy time dissolves itself and leaves no remnant by    'tis anguish not a feather hath or too much weight to fly    1775 the earth has many keys, where melody is not is the unknown peninsula. beauty is nature's fact. but witness for her land, and witness for her sea, the cricket is her utmost of elegy to me.

we hope we’ve whetted your appetite for summer jazz studies. with so many options, you only need to decide what dates work for you, what location works for you and, of course, what can you afford. the following pages spell all of that out and give you contact information on where to find out more about each camp. click the 2025 international camp guide cover below to get the complete listings. happy camping! db joshua breakstone’s jazz guitar dream experience takes campers all the way to japan. for musicians with a passion for globe trotting who seek something new and different in a jazz camp experience, there are plenty of great international camps to choose from   some just north of the border, some across the pond. here are a few highly recommended jazz camps that take place in distant locales and invite jazz travelers of all stripes. international music camp summer school of fine arts international peace garden manitoba/north dakota july 13 19 summer 2025 marks 68 years of inspiring music camps at the beautiful international peace garden located on the canada/u.s. border between north dakota and manitoba. international music camp offers a full week session of jazz studies, including big band or vocal jazz streams along with jazz theory, improvisation, combos, faculty master classes and optional private lessons with imc’s acclaimed artist teachers. this program is open to students in grades 7 12 with at least three years of playing experience. faculty: imc’s jazz camp is directed by dr. greg gatien, and includes some of the finest senior years and post secondary instructors in both canada and the usa as well as experienced professional musicians with a passion for jazz education. cost: $660 usd before may 1; $675 after may 1. contact: info@internationalmusiccamp.com; 204 269 8468 (canada); 701 838 8472 (usa); internationalmusiccamp.com. jazz improvisation camp in italy june 8 14, june 15 21 an international camp created by the new york jazz workshop, jazz improvisation camp in italy is held in the scenic hills of tuscany. it’s a week long camp that combines intensive jazz study with cultural excursions. open to musicians of all levels, participants engage in improvisation workshops, ensemble sessions and italian dining. ideal for those seeking inspiration in a unique setting. faculty: visit newyorkjazzworkshop.com. cost: starting price: $2,900 ($100 discount for downbeat readers) contact: email info@newyorkjazzworkshop.com; 212 287 5908; newyorkjazzworkshop.com. joshua breakstone’s jazz guitar dream experience kyoto, japan may 27 june 6 a dream experience for guitarists of any age including 10 hotel nights with breakfast, seven intensive three hour workshops, visits to japanese jazz clubs, intros to japanese jazz musicians, five dinners in amazing kyoto restaurants with many of the musicians you’ll meet and two tours of kyoto temples and gardens. faculty: guitarist and educator joshua breakstone; phillip strange; fukuro kazuya; morishita kei; ito aiko; ono midori and more. cost: $3,150; $2,900 if paid in full by feb. 15. contact: kyotoguitarexperience.com. kosa italy   catanzaro jazz fest retreat catanzaro, italy a one week musical, cultural, culinary retreat in calabria (southern italy). enjoy this all inclusive cultural, musical culinary experience including daily classes in music, drumming, dance, archeology, seminars and deep dives, cultural context, local culinary classes, language classes, attend and perform concerts at important archeology sites, hidden villages, wineries and more. all instruments provided. open to all including non musicians. faculty: hosted by aldo mazza; an international faculty to be announced. cost: $2,900. contact: info@kosamusic.com; 1 800 541 8401; italymusictour.com. langnau jazz nights, junior jazz workshop langnau, switzerland july 21 26 the junior jazz workshop for children and teenagers from 10 to 18 years of age is unique: beside classes which take into consideration age and skill level, the participants also have the opportunity to join the instrumental classes of the jazz workshop and special workshops of the performing bands. as a result, participants get the chance to work with internationally acclaimed jazz musicians and teachers. faculty: caroline davis, faculty curator; other faculty to be announced. cost: chf 250 (includes festival pass). contact: workshops@jazz nights.ch; jazz nights.ch. samba meets jazz workshops rio de janeiro, brazil january 2026 samba meets jazz workshops’ brazilian musical/cultural immersion welcomes instrumentalists, vocalists and tap dancers of all music backgrounds from around the world seeking to unlock brazilian rhythms, styles and phrasing from “the source.” in addition to 25 hours of instruction provided by a who’s who of brazilian music, this week long program includes sightseeing led by an english speaking tour guide, optional group dinners and night time music excursions. participants can choose special packages for non musicians who attend faculty presentations, sightseeing, lunches and dinners, night time music excursions, student and faculty performances, as well as optional percussion classes. faculty: nilson matta, artistic/music director; other faculty to be announced. past faculty includes lula galvão, andre tandeta, alfredo cardim, erivelton silva, célia vaz, liz rosa, with guest presentations by joão bosco, ivan lins, chico pinheiro, nilze carvalho and more. cost: to be announced. contact: alice@sambameetsjazz.com. for a complete list of international camps, and all the camps, click here. db jamming at the jazzwire summer summit. ah, summertime. breathe in those fresh summer breezes … and get to the woodshed to improve your chops! that’s right, jazz camp’s not just for kids anymore, with more and more adults only options popping up around the globe. here are a few choice camps where you can improve your chops, meet like minded sound explorers and take in the beauty of your surroundings. jazz at the summit breckenridge, colorado june 18 22 be inspired as you rehearse and perform great jazz music under the tutelage of professional staff in the breathtaking mountains of colorado. over five days, adult musicians will be immersed in small group sectionals and full rehearsals culminating in a public performance at one of the region’s finest venues. faculty: anthony garcia, michael brothers, mark wood, margaret banton, john madere, andy nevada. cost: $265 $315 contact: beth steele, executivedirector@musicatthesummit.com; 240 475 6316; jazzatthesummit.com jazz in the mountains killington, vermont aug. 10 15 jazz in the mountains creates a stimulating environment of music making and interpersonal support for adult musicians. situated in the mountains of vermont, the professional staff brings challenge, growth and encouragement to rehearsals, master classes and performances   including guest artist erena terakubo with ray vega, tom cleary and others to guide four ensembles. contact: rich davidian, camp administrator, jazzmountains@gmail.com; 802 798 9998; jazzinthemountains.com. jazzwire canadian summit edmonton, alberta, canada june 20 22 built for adults from the ground up, the three day canadian summit is one of the few adult centered camps in the country. at the summit, you will have plenty of playing time in your small combo, electives, instrument specific masterclasses, jam sessions and more. faculty: jeff antoniuk, chris andrews, aretha tillotson, biboye onanuga, jean francois picard, jim head, joel gray and others. cost: $749 cad for three days, or $225 cad per day for observers. contact: jeff antoniuk, artistic director, jeff@jazzwire.net; 443 822 6483; jazzwiresummit.com/canadiansummit. jazzwire summer summit rockville, maryland (outside washington d.c.) july 29 aug. 3 in its 22nd year, and built for adults from the ground up, the five day summer summit features a renowned faculty of top notch recording artists and teachers. the summit offers plenty of playing time in small combo, electives, instrument specific master classes, jam sessions and more. faculty: sherrie maricle, greg boyer, jeff antoniuk, james moore, amy shook, steve herberman, leonardo lucini, jackie warren, brent birckhead and others. cost: $1,599 for three days, or $325 per day for observers. contact: jeff antoniuk, artistic director, jeff@jazzwire.net; 443 822 6483; jazzwiresummit.com/summersummit. jazzwire twin cities summit minneapolis, minnesota july 17 19 built for adults from the ground up, the three day twin cities summit features a renowned faculty of top notch recording artists and players, who also happen to be great teachers. at the summit, have plenty of playing time in your small combo, electives, instrument specific master classes, jam sessions and more. faculty: jeff antoniuk, elaine burt, chris bates, adi yeshaya, zacc harris and others. cost: $799 for three days, or $250 per day for observers. contact: jeff antoniuk, artistic director, jeff@jazzwire.net; 443 822 6483; jazzwiresummit.com/home twin city summit. jazzworks 30th annual jazz camp & composers’ symposium/practice retreat harrington, quebec, canada aug. 25 28 (composers’ symposium/practice retreat) aug.18 31 (jazz camp) an adult focused, life changing learning opportunity for vocalists and instrumentalists. work on jazz theory and technique with jazzworks’ innovative canadian and international jazz artist faculty. share the joy of this intensive learning experience and immerse yourself in combo rehearsals, master classes, improvisation, jazz history, composition and arranging, with nightly jam sessions and concerts. check out the three day composers’ symposium/practice retreat at jazzworkscanada.com. faculty: past faculty includes adrian vedady, music director; dezron douglas; nat reeves; kirk macdonald; don braden; ted nash; amy london; derrick gardner; lorne lofsky; roddy ellias; jocelyn gould; jean michel pilc and more. cost: visit jazzworkscanada.com. contact: jazzworkscanada.com; jazzworkscanada.com/jazz camp.html. new england conservatory’s jazz lab: players and educators workshop boston, massachusetts june 22 28 rediscover the world of jazz through an immersive workshop tailored to educators and adult musicians, featuring classes, rehearsals and a culminating performance. learn from nec faculty and guest artists while refining skills, exploring pedagogy and engaging with vital topics for performers and educators. elevate artistry and connect with the vibrant jazz community at nec. this is an adult program. participants must be 18 or older to apply. faculty: tim lienhard: co founder, executive director; henrique eisenmann, co founder, artistic director; ken schaphorst; david zoffer, lihi haruvi; peter moffett; farayi malek; zwe duma bell le pere; ehud ettun. faculty listed are subject to change. cost: tuition, $1,950; housing and meals: $1,200; day students (lunch & dinner only), $250 contact: ee@necmusic.edu; 617 585 1160; necmusic.edu/expanded education/summer programs/jazz lab. samba meets jazz workshops bar harbor, maine aug. 3 9 located at college of the atlantic on frenchman’s bay   just steps from acadia national park   samba meets jazz workshops offer instrumental, vocal and tap dance programs focusing on jazz, brazilian and afro cuban traditions. geared to adult hobbyists, educators and working musicians, smj provides adults of all musical backgrounds the opportunity to study and hang with world renowned faculty and like minded peers. the instrumental program includes ensembles, improvisation, instrument specific study, arranging, optional big band and more. the vocal program includes repertoire development, phrasing, scatting, charting, theory, percussion accompaniment, and portuguese pronunciation (optional). tap emphasizes musicality, technique and improvisation. accompaniment by instrumental faculty is key to the vocal and tap dance program. guests and chaperoned high school students welcome. partial scholarships and work study is available based on financial need and merit. faculty: nilson matta, artistic/music director; rafael barata; edsel gomez; felipe galganni and more to be announced. cost: to be announced. contact: alice@sambameetsjazz.com summertrios jazz workshop franklin & marshall college lancaster, pennsylvania june 7 14 the summertrios jazz workshop is a dynamic, non audition program for adult musicians. participants explore combos, sectionals, guided listening, jazz history, improvisation and instrumental pedagogy. led by expert faculty, the workshop fosters growth, creativity, and camaraderie in a supportive environment. faculty: matt buttermann, juan montoya, nathan decusatis, willie applewhite, keegan riley, zoe obadia, mikael darmanie and more. cost: tuition, $1,550; room & board, $750. contact: matt buttermann, matt@summertrios.org 313 509 7909; summertrios.org. tritone jazz at naz nazareth university, rochester, new york june 15 20 tritone is all about playing and learning and keeping it all fun. curriculum is focused on adult learners (no one under 21 admitted) of all experience levels and includes participation in small combos, big bands, guided improvisation/theory classes, instrument instruction and jam sessions. personal attention, with 5:1 camper/faculty ratio. all campers must provide proof of covid 19 vaccination. faculty: darmon meader, charles pillow, rich thompson, clay jenkins, bob sneider, mark kellogg, dariusz terefenko, marco panascia, kristen shiner mcguire. cost: tuition, $1,095. full package, tuition, plus room & board, $1,890. contact: bob derosa, tritonebob@gmail.com; tritonejazz.com. tritone at bjorklunden baileys harbor, wisconsin july 6 11 a second tritone camp in case july is a better time for your jazz retreat. curriculum is focused on adult learners (no one under 21 admitted) of all experience levels and includes participation in small combos, big bands, guided improvisation/theory classes, instrument instruction and jam sessions. personal attention, with 5:1 camper/faculty ratio. all campers must provide proof of covid 19 vaccination. faculty: terell stafford, janet planet, greg jasperse; pat mallinger, tim fitzgerald; christian dillingham, john harmon, rod blumenau, dean sorenson, zach harmon. cost: tuition, $1,095. still room in camp, but lodging is sold out for 2025. plenty of nearby motels and b&bs. contact: bob derosa, tritonebob@gmail.com; tritonejazz.com. adult jazz camp powered by colajazz columbia, south carolina june 9 12 designed for adults, this immersive weekend features jazz combos, theory, improv, master classes and a grand finale public performance. whether mastering coltrane or blues basics, enjoy expert instruction, concerts and a vibrant community. tuition includes meals, activities and a free t shirt! faculty: dr. mitch butler, amos hoffman, mark rapp, nick vlandis, sam edwards. cost: $285 contact: sam edwards, sam@colajazz.com; colajazz.com. new orleans trad jazz camp new orleans, louisiana june 15 21, june 22 28 notjc is a weeklong adult workshop in the heart of the french quarter. sessions include sectionals, ensembles, nightly jam sessions, lectures, second line parade, playing at preservation hall, a final performance and a continuous jam session on saturday for those wishing to stay and extra day. faculty: 20 faculty members both local and from around the u.s. include banu gibson, dan levinson, tom fisher, ray moore, hal smith, gerald french, danny rubio, charlie halloran, david sager, david boeddinghaus, steve pistorius, kris tokarski, mark brooks, katie cavera, molly reeves, charlie fardella, doyle cooper, meryl zimmerman. cost: tuition, $2,450. includes six nights of housing, breakfast and lunch. scholarships available for those under 23. contact: banu gibson, notradjazzcamp@gmail.com; 504 895 0037; tradjazzcamp.com. yosemite jazz guitar & bass workshop oakhurst, california june 22 27 rich severson has hosted this peaceful, engaging workshop near yosemite for 23 years. the tranquil setting allows guests to fully immerse themselves in learning jazz guitar. students are grouped by skill level and focus on three tunes. there are nightly student concerts and a student performance at a public winery. faculty: rich severson, mike dana, plus a special guest teacher. cost: $1,299 $2,199. contact: wes severson, severson.wes@gmail.com; 805 460 6370; guitarcollege.com/yosemite. for a complete listing of adult jazz camps, and all the other camps, click here! db “she said, ‘a lot of people are going to try and stop you,’” sheryl bailey recalls of the advice she received from jazz guitarist emily remler (1957 ’90). “‘they’re going to say you slept with somebody, you’re a dyke, you’re this and that and the other. don’t listen to them, and just keep playing.’” in the april 1982 issue of people magazine, under the heading “lookout: a guide to the up and coming,” jazz guitarist emily remler famously said: “i may look like a nice jewish girl from new jersey, but inside i’m a 50 year old, heavy set black man with a big thumb, like wes montgomery.” it was a bold statement for the petite 24 year old from englewood cliffs, but no bolder than the searing single note lines and assertive sense of swing she had exhibited on her 1981 concord records debut, firefly. remler won acclaim through that decade on the strength of five celebrated albums for concord, culminating with 1988’s east to wes, a tribute to her guitar idol, wes montgomery. her seventh and final album, this is me, was released posthumously in october of 1990, five months after she had passed from a drug overdose while on tour in sydney, australia. during her relatively brief time in the spotlight, remler served as a role model for a generation of female jazz guitarists who were on the scene. and now with the release of cookin’ at the queens (resonance records)   a series of live recordings from 1984 and 1988 at the french quarter room in the four queens hotel of las vegas   a new generation of women jazz guitarists are feeling remler’s profound influence, nearly 35 years later. in a may 1982 downbeat profile, remler told writer a. james liska: “my career is moving very quickly, and that whole woman thing has put me outfront and helped me get noticed. but when i’m playing, i forget if i’m a girl or a boy or a cat. it’s when i leave the stage that i remember.” she added that being a woman jazz guitarist worked both for and against her. “some people like me because of the mere fact that i play. those are the ones that judge too softly. then there are those   i’ve had this happen   who come in and sit right in front of me, cross their arms and say, ‘this, i’ve got to see.’ then there are the people who are prejudiced, and they just sit there and wait for the mistakes. it works to your advantage if you’re pretty good, but if you’re not good, it works to your disadvantage.” remler later elaborated to julie coryell in a may 1985 db feature about the sexism that she continued to encounter in her career. julie coryell: as a woman, did you have to work harder to be accepted? emily remler: i still do. i didn’t conquer it. are you kidding? now they know that i can play. but i still have to prove myself every single time. the only thing is that i’m not intimidated anymore. there was a time when i came fresh out of berklee with the competitive frame of mind. i would ask to sit in. ‘oh, please, can i just play one tune? i won’t screw things up.’ and secretly, i was thinking, ‘i’ll go up there and burn their asses off.’ that’s how i felt then. now i realize that if you’re thinking of that stuff, you’re not thinking of creativity and all these other things that i’m supposed to be doing in my solos. so i had to can that. i have to rise above it by playing good. you don’t get angry, you don’t get bitter, you don’t get feminist about the thing. you don’t try to make a statement for women. you just get so damn good that they’ll forget about all that crap.” as drummer bob moses, who played on two remler albums (1983’s transitions and 1984’s catwalk), stated in his testimony for cookin’ at the queens: “she was smart. lots of men tried to keep her down, but she did didn’t back down. she was strong. her music was swinging.” like mary osborne decades before her, remler was a role model. ten women, all jazz guitarists on the scene today, spoke to her influence for this article: veterans like leni stern, mimi fox, margaret slovak, mary halvorson, sheryl bailey, amanda monaco and jane miller, along with rising stars camila meza, jocelyn gould and eleonora strino. they weigh in on the impact that remler made during her short but potent career, one that continues to this day. camila meza: nobody talked about emily when i was growing up, which is understandable coming from chile, where even getting to wes montgomery was an immense bit of luck. i was searching for more john scofield material when i came across a video of a berklee school of music performance [from 1988] of him playing a duo version of “stella by starlight” alongside a woman so fluent and strong. i was in disbelief since i literally had never seen a woman guitarist playing jazz. it was such an inspiring moment. when i heard emily’s playing, i was in awe of how much tradition she was embodying. the amount of study really shows on how solid she was as a player. over the years you see her searching and evolving into a more personal voice but keeping the best from wes’ school: a beautiful tone and language, hyper intentional melodic storytelling, impeccable time feel, harmonic richness, soul and blues. ... she really had it all. mary halvorson: when i was a teenager, people would say, “oh, you play jazz guitar? you must love emily remler.” and this happened to me over and over, which is really interesting because it shows you how few female jazz guitarists there were at that time. when i started playing, i really didn’t have a female role model on guitar, so she was probably the only female jazz guitarist that i really knew about that was somewhat current, even though she had died when i was 10. so i thought, “i’ve got to check her out.” at that point, i started listening to her record east to wes, which was just super cool. obviously, she’s an incredible player with completely fluid, amazing technique and a great feel. she just had such an effortless way of playing. but there’s also an intensity and an edge and a real kind of driving energy to her playing on that album, which i really relate to and gravitate towards. margaret slovak: emily came on my radar during my senior year of high school in 1980. i was living in denver, and there was a jazz series there put on by this gentleman named dick gibson. these were big jazz parties where there’d be like 20 musicians onstage. and i remember seeing in the paper that emily was going to be playing at the gibson party that year. so i got a ticket, which was way back in the last row in this big theater in denver. i remember seeing her sitting in a chair on stage with her red gibson [es 330] guitar. she was the only female on the stage, and i was just so inspired by that. i was like, “oh, my gosh! there’s a woman up there playing jazz guitar!” and i recall that on the very first tune of the concert, after they played the head, they pointed to her to take the first solo. and i remember thinking, “wow, that’s a lot of pressure for a young woman to be up there with all those guys and have to take the first solo like that. are they doing it because they’re being courteous? or are they trying to put her on the spot?” but she played beautifully and just aced it. jocelyn gould: the first time i heard emily on record was in 2010 when i was 19. she’s always been a legendary figure to me. when i was teaching my guitar classes i found it interesting that so few students had ever heard of her, so i’d introduce them to her through these intensive listening sessions we’d do to open the class. and a number of young women students just couldn’t believe it. they came up to me after class and said, “why did nobody ever tell me about this titan on the instrument?” so i loved to play her music to my students and then just talk about tone and swing and feeling and soulful playing. emily is a master class in all of those things. eleonora strino: i discovered emily through her record firefly, which was a revelation to me. sometimes we can imagine women as being more fragile, but she had a big, forceful sound. i really loved her hard bop playing, and i wanted to develop that same sound. so i began transcribing her solos from firefly as well as some standards she played on her next album, take two, like “in your own sweet way” and the dexter gordon tune “for regulars only.” i also transcribed her solo on “hot house” from her album east to wes. of course, you can hear the influences of wes montgomery and pat martino on those albums. but her album catwalk was full of her own compositions, and some of those tunes reminded me of the mediterranean/neopolitan sound that i also have in my own compositions. you can hear that she was searching for her own personality on that album, and this is the job i’m doing now. amanda monaco: i was in high school and very much into miles and wayne and coltrane and wes when my guitar teacher told me, “hey, there’s this female jazz guitarist named emily remler. you should check her out. here’s a cassette.” it was her last album, this is me. and it wasn’t like the kind of jazz i was listening to at the time; it was more light fusion y stuff. but i noticed how amazing her composing was on that album. the songs were more pensive and varied, but she also reminded you all over that record what a badass she was, as far as playing is concerned. she absolutely shredded on that record. when she soloed on those tunes, she would go right back into that pat martino ish kind of vibe that she had on firefly, take two and east to wes. so there were these seeds that were planted on this is me, and that record made me ask more questions than it answered. sheryl bailey: i took a lesson with emily when i was a student at berklee. i went back home to pittsburgh during spring break and a friend of mine, the pianist david budway, who was my teacher when i was a kid, called me and said, “ems is in town! here’s her number. give her a call. get a lesson.” so i did, and i ended up hanging out with her all day. she was in a rehab program in pittsburgh at the time, and she was clean and just on fire   so focused and just there with everything. so i came for a lesson and afterwards she’s like, “hey, let’s hang out and play!” she just wanted to jam, but the lesson was great. emily was a great teacher. she zeroed in on exactly what i needed to work on, and i’ve taken a lot of stuff she showed me then and sort of expanded on it for my students. her thing about swing and articulation was so spot on. it’s based on something called the picking dynamic, which is about what swing really is   where the accent is and getting control of that. it’s a very technical alternate picking right hand study based on something that pat martino showed her. that was really eye opening and it changed my technique. it’s something over the years that i go back to and i keep developing. still to this day, i run through those picking studies just to warm up and get centered. jane miller: the thing that instantly impressed me about emily’s playing? tone and chops. and pace. to hit that sweet spot of chops with taste is not easy. but emily really hit that sweet spot for me. she had a signature sound with her gibson [es 330], but even when she played acoustic guitar or a solidbody, there was still that combination of taste and tone that would always sound like her. emily modernized things. she was pretty forward thinking while honoring those she learned from. mimi fox: i just loved her melodicism. i found her playing very lyrical. to me, that’s a really great compliment you can give an instrumentalist. it means more than, “oh, she can burn. she’s got good chops.” because lyrical, to me, means you’re telling a story. it’s the whole essence of what jazz is about, which is telling a compelling story. amanda monaco: the thing that always impressed me about emily was her time feel and her execution on the instrument. i was listening to something yesterday from firefly, and there’s this one thing she did at the end of the title track where she’s playing double stops, and i could not for the life of me figure out how she did that. it just didn’t sound humanly possible. margaret slovak: her tone was just like a bell. so clean. and her rhythmic lines were so fluid and lyrical, and she swung so hard. one of the things i really admire about emily’s playing is that even though she had the facility to play a zillion notes, she would leave space, so her lines had even more impact. and there’s also a lot of soul in her playing, a lot of warmth. plus, the way she comps when other players are soloing is so beautiful. it’s like she never tried to overplay or show off. camila meza: i think as female players we all feel inadequate in one way or another at a certain point in our careers, sometimes at many points. it’s a matter of fact that you never cease having to prove yourself. and on the other hand, personally, even when i’m achieving great things, i question if i deserve the recognition, or if i’m good enough. the way i deal with it is i try to stay close to what moves me to make music, which is very far from having to show anybody that i can do it. it’s because i need to, and it heals me. and that’s a pretty rooting reason. i went through the exact same situation as emily (more than 20 years later) where she says she wasn’t called at a jam session because they judged her as not being an actual jazz guitarist, but a songwriter. i remember going to the old fat cat and being turned away by the jam session host because, “this is not a singer songwriter’s session.” i was a woman holding a guitar, so i didn’t fit in. but emily showed us that you can be a woman and play jazz guitar at the highest level. she was breaking stereotypes just by being herself, which is not easy to do. i think about how hard it must have been for her to show up at a jam session as a female guitar player in new york in the ’80s. the cultural context you develop in completely shapes you as a person and, therefore, as an artist. eleonora strino: i think for a woman to be accepted in this jazz world is, obviously, more difficult. especially when you are in the early stages and not yet a “professional” musician, the male musicians will at times approach you with this attitude of, “oh, it’s a girl playing guitar!” they don’t take you seriously. my advice for men is to try not to consider women like sexual objects and to treat the women musicians just starting out with respect so they do not have to be “warriors” to become a good musician. because it’s true, when you are a woman in this jazz world you have to be many times better each time that you play. emily felt that, and i still feel that today. so i just try to develop a big sound and play aggressively, as emily did. so i am indebted to her. i think emily had it worse than me because she was one of the first women to play a different instrument, not piano or a singer. we had to fight, too, but now we are in a better moment. it’s still difficult for women jazz musicians. because i sometimes still feel the pressure. you never know if you play good or if you play good “for a woman.” it’s something that stays in your mind. but i think the world will be better for my students [at the conservatory in consenza] and other women musicians just coming up now. and we have pioneers like emily remler to thank for that. sheryl bailey: when i was hanging out with emily that day i took a lesson with her, at some point she said to me, “don’t stop playing. never stop doing what you’re doing.” she said, “a lot of people are going to try and stop you. they’re going to say you slept with somebody, you’re a dyke, you’re this and that and the other. don’t listen to them, and just keep playing.” and i cherished that moment. now i’m the assistant chair of the guitar department at berklee, and i have shared that story with several young women who came in who were like, “i’m going to quit the performance major. i’m just so tired of all this sexist bullshit.” and i’ve told them what emily told me. and you know what? they all hung in. so i feel like that thing that emily told me has been one of the biggest things that i can do in mentoring young players.” mary halvorson: because she was really one of the few women guitarists doing it on that level at the time, i think she really used that as motivation. like, “ok, if i’m gonna do this, i’m going to work really hard and i have to be the best.” that’s the sense that i get. i think that she felt like she constantly had to prove herself. even once people realized she could play, she had to prove herself over and over again. for some people, that can be crushing and make you stop playing entirely. and for other people, it can be motivating. and it sounds like she had that real intensity of personality too to persevere. leni stern: emily made no apologies for swinging so hard. her time was flawless and she played better than a lot of the guys that came up with her. i always enjoyed it so much when she would sit in with a bunch of male musicians and then proceed to kick everybody’s ass, because nobody expected it. even after it was known how well she played, people still wouldn’t believe it. but she’d come and whoop everybody’s ass again. but i also know the pressure she experienced and know how difficult it was   and to some degree still is   to be a female jazz guitar player. but emily was the kind of girl that would say, “fuck it!” and go do it anyway. but that didn’t prevent the hurt from happening. mimi fox: i think to some extent with all jazz musicians there’s always a part of them that has an imposter syndrome, but it’s always harder for women just because of the culture. i think women can have a tendency to try to prove themselves. and if you’re constantly trying to prove yourself, that gets in the way of the music because you can’t just relax and let the music flow. and i think that can be a tough thing. i was fortunate to have found some supportive men along the way who really wanted the best for me and gave me an extra oomph because they knew, and they felt in their heart, it was the right thing to do. they knew i was facing a little extra b.s. in my life being a woman playing jazz. of course, i have horror stories about guys that were jerks, but i also have men that have been complete menches and really went out of their way to go the extra mile for me, including steve vai. so now i tell my students, “if you meet jerks, just lose them.” i think a common mistake young women make is if someone’s a jerk to them, they tend to personalize it and think something’s wrong with them instead of thinking that the guy’s just being a jerk and is probably a jerk to other women, and also to other men. but women tend to personalize things. again, it’s a cultural thing, and it takes a long time to overcome some of that stuff. like the saying goes: old habits die hard. but the jazz community has moved forward and it’s really heartening to see all the changes that have happened since emily passed. jane miller: being a woman guitarist in a so called men’s arena is something that emily acknowledged, sometimes even in a lighthearted way. meaning, she didn’t let it get to her in any kind of way that held her back. it’s more like recognizing something that’s a little weird, and then you just carry on. you just play. and that other stuff   male versus female players and difficulties in that world   didn’t really affect the music, in her mind. that could be what was simmering underneath, but with emily it was always about the music. and she just laid it down with such clarity and cleanliness and precision, but also fire. amanda monaco: today there are many more women playing guitar at berklee than there ever used to be. i think it’s doubled since kim perlak became the chair and sheryl bailey became the assistant chair. so now the guitar department at berklee is run by two forward thinking women, which is pretty freakin’ cool. but there still is a prevailing feeling that goes along with being a female jazz guitarist. it’s getting better, but define “better.” you know, that sexist shit still happens. i still get asked when people see me with my guitar if i’m going to sing, and i’m like, “trust me, you really don’t want to hear me sing.” so that is still a thing that female guitarists are subjected to, but the jazz musicians themselves now are just more welcoming. … so things are changing, and emily was definitely a pioneer in shifting attitudes. db cynthia erivo and herbie hancock perform “fly me to the moon” during a grammy awards tribute to quincy jones on feb. 2. the jazz and blues community may not have been center stage for the majority of the 67th annual grammy award presentations on the evening of feb. 2, but plenty of artists in the improvised music and blues worlds were recognized for their achievements   earlier in the day, as they say   and a tribute to quincy jones served as a focal point and showcase for jazz. herbie hancock playing “killer joe” to open the tribute to jones, who passed away in november at the age of 91. will smith introduced it, of course, since smith starred in the fresh prince of bel air, the hit tv show that brought smith to prominence. jones was the executive producer. cynthia erivo, of movie wicked fame, and hancock performed an elegant “fly me to the moon” in tribute to jones’ work with frank sinatra. their duet led into a big band version with an all star band. she killed it! next up was jacob collier on piano and country artist lainey wilson on vocals doing a slamming version of the louis jordan classic “let the good times roll,” which was included on jones’ 1995 album q’s jook joint. but stevie wonder, sitting next to hancock playing “bluesette” on chromatic harmonica, stole this writer’s heart. two true geniuses, one piano bench. of course, the tribute featured one of jones’ greatest achievements: “we are the world,” a song written by michael jackson and lionel ritche for a star studded production brought together by jones that raised more than $10 million for aid to africa in the 1980s. call it schmaltzy, but also heartfelt. janelle monae capped off the moment doing her best michael jackson, moon walk and all. good on her for trying. also of note: hats off to alicia keyes, who, in accepting the the dr. dre global impact award, said, “this is not the time to shut down the diversity of voices. we see it on this stage, talented hard working people from different backgrounds, with different points of view, and it changes the game. dei is not a threat, it’s a gift. and the more voices, the more powerful the sound. when destructive forces try to burn us down, we rise from the ashes like a phoenix and, as you see tonight, music is the unstoppable language that connects us all.” “burn us down” was a thematic reference to the evening’s other mission, to raise funds for those who lost their homes in the los angeles fires in january. it was estimated that the broadcast helped raise more than $7 million for wildfire relief, making the show one part awards ceremony and equal part telethon. the evening was topped off with a group of firefighters from the los angeles fire department announcing the album of the year, which went to beyoncé’s cowboy carter. it truly was a moving display of diversity standing on the stage. beautiful, grammys. here’s a list of this year’s grammy winners in jazz  and blues related categories. (for a complete list of awardees, go to grammy.com.) album of the year winner! cowboy carter, beyoncé other nominees new blue sun, andré 3000 djesse vol. 4, jacob collier cowboy carter, beyoncé short n’ sweet, sabrina carpenter brat, charli xcx hit me hard and soft, billie eilish the rise and fall of a midwest princess, chappell roan the tortured poets department, taylor swift best new artist winner! chappell roan other nominees khruangbin benson boone sabrina carpenter doechii raye shaboozey teddy swims best jazz performance winner! “twinkle twinkle little me,” samara joy featuring sullivan fortner other nominees “walk with me, lord (sound | spirit),” the baylor project “phoenix reimagined (live),” lakecia benjamin featuring randy brecker, jeff “tain” watts & john scofield “juno,” chick corea & béla fleck “little fears,” dan pugach big band featuring nicole zuraitis & troy roberts best jazz vocal album winner! a joyful holiday, samara joy other nominees journey in black, christie dashiell wildflowers vol. 1, kurt elling & sullivan fortner milton + esperanza, milton nascimento & esperanza spalding my ideal, catherine russell & sean mason best jazz instrumental album winner! remembrance, chick corea & béla fleck other nominees owl song, ambrose akinmusire featuring bill frisell & herlin riley beyond this place, kenny barron featuring kiyoshi kitagawa, johnathan blake, immanuel wilkins & steve nelson phoenix reimagined (live), lakecia benjamin solo game, sullivan fortner best large jazz ensemble album winner! bianca reimagined: music for paws and persistence, dan pugach big band other nominees returning to forever, john beasley & frankfurt radio big band and so it goes, the clayton hamilton jazz orchestra walk a mile in my shoe, orrin evans & the captain black big band golden city, miguel zenón best latin jazz album winner! cubop lives!, zaccai curtis other nominees spain forever again, michel camilo & tomatito collab, hamilton de holanda & gonzalo rubalcaba time and again, eliane elias el trio: live in italy, horacio ‘el negro’ hernández, john beasley & josé gola cuba and beyond, chucho valdés & royal quartet as i travel, donald vega featuring lewis nash, john patitucci & luisito quintero best alternative jazz album winner! no more water: the gospel of james baldwin, meshell ndegeocello other nominees night reign, arooj aftab new blue sun, andré 3000 code derivation, robert glasper foreverland, keyon harrold best traditional pop vocal album à fleur de peau, cyrille aimée visions, norah jones good together, lake street dive impossible dream, aaron lazar christmas wish, gregory porter best contemporary instrumental album winner! plot armor, taylor eigsti other nominees rhapsody in blue, béla fleck orchestras (live), bill frisell featuring alexander hanson, brussels philharmonic, rudy royston & thomas morgan mark, mark guiliana speak to me, julian lage best american roots performance winner! “lighthouse,” sierra ferrell other nominees “blame it on eve,” shemekia copeland “nothing in rambling,” the fabulous thunderbirds featuring bonnie raitt, keb’ mo’,” taj mahal & mick fleetwood “the ballad of sally anne,” rhiannon giddens best traditioal blues album winner! swingin’ live at the church in tulsa, the taj mahal sextet other nominees hill country love, cedric burnside struck down, the fabulous thunderbirds one guitar woman, sue foley sam’s place, little feat best contemporary blues album winner! mileage, ruthie foster other nominees blues deluxe vol. 2, joe bonamassa blame it on eve, shemekia copeland friendlytown, steve cropper & the midnight hour the fury, antonio vergara best regional roots music album winner! kuini, kalani pe’a other nominees 25 back to my roots, sean ardoin and kreole rock and soul live at the 2024 new orleans jazz & heritage festival, big chief monk boudreaux & the golden eagles featuring j’wan boudreaux live at the 2024 new orleans jazz & heritage festival, new breed brass band featuring trombone shorty stories from the battlefield, the rumble featuring chief joseph boudreaux jr. best roots gospel album winner! church, cory henry other nominees the gospel sessions, vol. 2, authentic unlimited the gospel according to mark, mark d. conklin rhapsody, the harmlem gospel travelers loving you, the nelons best music film winner! american symphony, jon batiste other nominees june, june carter cash kings from queens, run dmc stevie van zandt: disciple, steven van zandt the greatest night in pop, various artists best album notes winner! centennial ricky riccardi, album notes writer (king oliver’s creaole jazz band & various artists) other nominees the carnegie hall concert lauren du graf, album notes writer (alice coltrane) after midnight tim brooks, album notes writer (ford dabney’s syncopated orchestras) john culshaw   the art of the producer   the early years 1948 55 dominic fyfe, album notes writer (john culshaw) sontrack original de la película “al son de beno” josh kun, album notes writer (various artists) best instrumental composition winner! “strands,” pascal le boeuf, composer (akropolis reed quintet, pascal le boeuf & christian euman) other nominees “at last,” shelton g. berg, composer (shelly berg) “communion,” christopher zuar, composer (christopher zuar orchestra) “i swear, i really wanted to make a ‘rap’ album but this is literally the way the wind blew me this time,” andré 3000, surya botofasina, nate mercereau & carlos niño, composers (andré 3000) “remembrance,” chick corea, composer (chick corea & béla fleck) best arrangement, instrumental or a cappella winner! “bridge over troubled water,” jacob collier, tori kelly & john legend, arrangers (jacob collier featuring john legend & tori kelly) other nominees “baby elephant walk   encore,” michael league, arranger (snarky puppy) “rhapsody in blue(grass),” béla fleck & ferde grofé, arrangers (béla fleck featuring michael cleveland, sierra hull, justin moses, mark schatz & bryan sutton) “rose without the thorns,” erin bentlage, alexander lloyd blake, scott hoying, a.j. sealy & amanda taylor, arrangers (scott hoying featuring säje & tonality) “silent night,” erin bentlage, sara gazarek, johnaye kendrick & amanda taylor, arrangers (säje) best arrangement, intruments or vocals winner! “alma,” erin bentlage, sara gazarek, johnaye kendrick & amanda taylor, arrangers (säje featuring regina carter) other nominees “always come back,” matt jones, arranger (john legend) “b i g f e e l i n g s,” willow, arranger (willow) “last surprise (from “persona 5”),” charlie rosen & jake silverman, arrangers (the 8 bit big band featuring jonah nilsson & button masher) “the sound of silence,” cody fry, arranger (cody fry featuring sleeping at last) db a host of jazz instrumentalists, vocalists and other entertainers will perform on christian mcbride’s world at sea. christian mcbride has opened booking for guests to join his newest production, christian mcbride’s world at sea, scheduled for early next year. mcbride has invited an expansive lineup of jazz instrumentalists and vocalists, along with popular entertainers and special guests, to be a part of his first cruise event: musicians josé james, cécile mclorin salvant, angelique kidjo, chris potter, melissa walker, sullivan fortner, benny green, greg hutchinson, christian sands and warren wolf, comedians alonzo bodden and george wallace, and more than 25 ensemble musicians and additional artists to be announced in the coming months. christian mcbride’s world at sea will take place aboard the luxury ocean liner celebrity summit as it sails from ft. lauderdale on jan. 20, 2026, with stops in jamaica and grand cayman before it returns to ft. lauderdale on jan. 27, 2026. the cruise is produced in association with signature cruise experiences, the gold standard for jazz at sea since 2001. “for more than three decades, it has been my honor to be a part of the universe of jazz,” said mcbride. “my world within that universe is best understood through the ensembles i have had the privilege of creating, leading and performing with. i am gathering many of the musicians who have been a part of my life for years for seven days and seven nights of amazing music, camaraderie and joy. enter my world and enjoy a funky good time.” the voyage will also feature performances by four of mcbride’s acclaimed ensembles, which showcase the music, artistry and community of his distinguished career: christian mcbride & inside straight, christian mcbride big band, christian mcbride & ursa major and christian mcbride: remembering ray brown (with benny green and greg hutchinson). the celebrity summit is a longtime favorite among guests of signature cruise experiences, offering world class performance venues along with luxurious cabins and amenities. in addition to a full schedule of concerts, guests of christian mcbride’s world at sea will enjoy artist hosted tastings, watch in depth interviews, attend educational and inspirational sessions and participate in unique events created exclusively for the cruise. stateroom prices start at $2,975 per person and can be booked by calling (888) 852 9987. for additional information, click here. mcbride has partnered with signature cruise experiences (formerly jazz cruises llc), the gold standard for music cruises at sea since 2001, to produce the cruise, undertake the reservation process and provide programming and technical support. with more than 80 full ship charters to its credit, signature cruise experiences has produced themed programs of all types throughout the world, including the jazz cruise, chris botti at sea, the smooth jazz cruise, the michael mcdonald & patti labelle cruise and journey of jazz. db some of the artists with recent releases on mack avenue, acquired by exceleration music. exceleration music, a music company dedicated to independent music, has acquired mack avenue music group, a jazz label that has been home to such artists as christian mcbride, kenny garrett, veronica swift, christian sands, yellowjacket, the bad plus, emmet cohen, mike stern and many more. after the 2019 purchase of candid records, bringing mack avenue under the umbrella broadens the scope of the company in the jazz and improvised music space. the overall jazz group will be led by denny stilwell, who had served as president of mack avenue before the purchase. the collective also features other key executives from both mack avenue and candid. founded in 1999 by gretchen carhartt valade, a passionate jazz fan and former chair of the american apparel brand carhartt, mack avenue has been a driving force in the jazz world earning several dozen grammy nominations and awards, as well as featuring many downbeat readers and critics poll winners. “we’re thrilled to welcome denny, his team, and the incredible mack avenue artist roster into the exceleration family,” said john burk, partner at exceleration music, who founded the company in 2019 after leaving his post as the coo of concord records. “the combining of mack avenue and candid records represents an important step in our mission to build the ultimate independent label home for today’s greatest jazz artists. together, we will continue to honor the labels’ remarkable heritages while providing the resources and expertise to help our artists reach new heights.” “joining forces with glen, john and the like minded team at exceleration is a transformative opportunity for mack avenue and our unique artist roster,” said stilwell. “with exceleration’s support, knowledge and enthusiasm, we are confident our special brand as artist advocates will thrive as we continue to bring this fantastic music to the world.” exceleration music plans to leverage the expanded roster and catalog with its robust distribution, marketing and technological resources to enhance mack avenue’s global impact, according to exceleration executives. the acquisition demonstrates exceleration’s continued commitment to preserving and advancing independent music in an evolving marketplace for recorded music. other labels under the exceleration umbrella   whether through ownership or strategic partnership   include including +1 records, alligator, azadi, bloodshot, candid, down the road, heroic, kill rock stars, mom+pop, redeye worldwide, sideonedummy, the ray charles foundation/tangerine records and yep roc records. mack avenue music group is a detroit based independent jazz label founded in 1999 by businesswoman and philanthropist gretchen valade. the label has been expanding its family of imprints to include rendezvous music, artistry music, maxjazz, brother mister productions and, most recently, the historic strata east records. the label has also partnered with the estate of oscar peterson/two lions records and the erroll garner project/octave music with a goal of celebrating the legacy their music. learn more at www.mackavenue.com. db “if you don’t keep learning, your mind slows down,” coleman says. “use it or lose it.” polytropos/of many turns   the title for steve coleman’s latest recording on pi and his 33rd album overall   aptly describes the vertiginous erudition of the music contained therein. it documents two concerts, one in paris, one in villon, recorded four days apart during a march 2024 tour by the most recent iteration of five elements, his primary unit since 1981. each is a virtuoso endeavor, brainy and primal, impeccably tight and alive, extending modern vernaculars with a clear historical scope. following coleman’s long standing performance practice, the band assembles the music in real time, aggregating small rhythmic units that whirl through interlocking cycles into cohesive collective declamations. coleman and trumpeter jonathan finlayson, a bandmate since 2000, evoke the one sound legacy of bird and diz, ornette and don cherry, executing warp speed unisons on the intervals conjured from coleman’s brain twisting drum chants, spinning off on a dime into contrapuntal dialogue and lucid solos. drummer sean rickman, whose relationship with coleman dates to 1996, and bassist rich brown, a bandmember since early 2023, mold the rhythmic shapes into constantly shifting grooves. the album dropped in november, a few weeks after the end of five elements’ second 2024 european tour. “i prefer the spontaneous energy and interactivity of recording live,” coleman said from his allentown, pennsylvania, home two days after returning as he was seated before a packed, well organized bookshelf. “i brought in rich because anthony tidd had a baby after the pandemic, and the high expense of child care keeps him from touring. a lot of reactive, in the moment things we do aren’t written, so he needed time to catch up. by march, he’d gotten into gear. we make multitrack recordings of each concert, and these two came out so well, i decided to put them out.” polytropos arrives three years after pi released live at the village vanguard volume ii (mdw ntr), which snapshotted a week from 2018 in the hallowed basement, with bassist anthony tidd, who first contributed to five elements in 1992, and kokayi, the sui generis freestyling “wordsmith” who has toured and recorded with several coleman configurations since 1994. live at the village vanguard, vol. 1 (the embedded sets), also issued in 2018, captures five elements’ 2017 residence there with coleman, finlayson, tidd, rickman and guitarist miles okazaki. “every year i take a sabbatical to pursue new information,” said coleman, who recently turned 68. “i ask myself if i’m internalizing and dealing with something musically i didn’t know two years ago. if the answer is no, i’m not progressing. if you don’t keep learning, your mind slows down. use it or lose it. that’s why you see all these books   a very small percentage of what i have   behind me. but it does no good unless i find musical analogies. that’s the hard part.” coleman’s relentless investigations over the last three decades include fieldwork driven encounters with master practitioners from west and north africa, cuba and the caribbean, brazil and the indian subcontinent. he refracts the information into a highly personal argot informed by his 1970s experiences on chicago’s south side. his albums reference chinese i ching hexagrams, yoruban ifá patterns and the hebrew bible as coded sets of musical symbols. they mimic the procession of interlocking planetary and astral cycles and postulate rhythmic equivalents to the mathematical structure of pi. on both vanguard albums, coleman presents his sonic representations of ancient egyptian hieroglyphs, which he first addressed on the sonic language of myth in 1998. the 2018 set springboards from his discovery earlier that year of the hieroglyph for man. “i had an epiphany of a musical shape that resembled the way this figure held his arms,” coleman said. “i associated it with a figure woody shaw played on a location recording of ‘ginseng people’ and started developing it in different directions.” a similar process of visualization informs the pieces on polytropos, on which coleman   who aspired to be a comic book illustrator before devoting himself to music   translates the biochemical reactions of amino acids into shapes consisting of pitches and rhythms. the songs manifested as coleman cogitated during january 2023 and january 2024 sabbaticals at his home in bahia. on the march tour, he showed the ideas to finlayson, whose approach in the dialogical flow onstage “fit the music like a glove.” he continued “to push the process” on the october tour. “i started traveling around the world to places that still had living traditions where music is conversation,” coleman said. “it was most obvious in the village i went to in ghana, where every day the drummers got up and beat out the story of their tribe. since i play mostly non verbal music, i was looking for hints on how humans have communicated ideas with musical sounds, though of course i wouldn’t do it the same way. i knew how to communicate sensations, like play a soft song that sounds like love, or play a grating song that sounds angry. but i was interested in much more sophisticated information. when i listened to von freeman playing ‘body and soul,’ the different passages brought to mind all kinds of images   not just emotions. why did i perceive these images?” coltrane’s musings about “creating a song in the moment and never playing it again” inspired coleman’s instant composition modus operandi. “i was on the road playing trio with reggie washington and gene lake, and made a different song for us to play each night, using kabbalah, and calculating astrology charts, where the ascendant was, and so on. some songs never left our repertoire, like ‘wheel of nature,’ on the second half of polytropos. now i’ve internalized all the research, like being in egypt for six weeks, going into the tombs and looking at the ancient decans, and i do it spontaneously.” the amino acids project gestated in the early 2000s, when coleman read dna and the i ching: the tao of life. “although i knew nothing about the science, dna codes looked very musical to me,” he said. his focus expanded after 2010, when coleman started meeting frequently with drum shaman milford graves, who had exhaustively mapped the cycles of the human heartbeat. coleman presented these investigations on the pi albums functional arrhythmias (2013), inspired by the “rhythmic interaction between the circulatory, nervous, respiratory and other biological systems of the human body,” and synovial joints (2017), representing the movements of the wrist, elbow, knee, hip, shoulder, ankle and thumb. “i was riding high from 2014 to 2018,” said coleman, noting his receipt of a guggenheim fellowship, a doris duke artist award and a macarthur fellowship, productive and well publicized residencies in detroit and chicago, and four consecutive annual appearances at the village vanguard. his prestige stemmed not only from the singular music he’d consistently generated since the mid 1980s, when coleman worked closely with mid boomer contemporaries like geri allen (his first wife), cassandra wilson, greg osby, marvin “smitty” smith, robin eubanks and james weidman, but also the well acknowledged impact of his fieldwork, cross cultural rhythmic ideas and career advice on next generation a listers vijay iyer, tyshawn sorey, dafnis prieto, marcus gilmore, jason moran, yosvany terry, miguel zenón, craig taborn, david virelles, miles okazaki, shane endsley and jen shyu. “steve most directly impacts people through what can only be called generosity,” iyer affirmed in a downbeat profile of coleman in 2011. “he’ll speak with you for hours, sharing information from his omnivorous mind, while also picking your brain, learning from what you have to say. he believes in building a collective body of knowledge, modeling himself on what bird and monk and the ancients did. he does the work to connect systems of thought, to connect ideas. his music does that work, too.” it’s unclear whether coleman intended the title polytropos to hint at the turn in his fortunes after october 2018. eleven months earlier, maria grand, another coleman mentee, who plays tenor saxophone on synovial joints and morphogenesis, circulated an email to an audience that included coleman’s colleagues, music journalists and concert promoters, stating that she and coleman (referenced as “x”) had an off and on sexual relationship from 2011 to 2016. she was 35 years his junior and alleged that during this time coleman often extorted sex as a precondition for continued employment and lessons. she concluded with a demand “to make it impossible for predators to exist, period, in the scene.” soon thereafter, she identified coleman by name in a letter to members of the we have voice collective, a group she’d co launched with 13 sister musicians inspired by the contemporaneous #metoo movement to focus on issues of harassment and gender equity. on may 5, 2018, coleman, openly polyamorous since the 1980s, mass emailed an unapologetic denial of grand’s accusation of harassment. he portrayed the relationship as consensual throughout, buttressing his contention with a tranche of texts and emails, some quite racy, that he and grand had exchanged. in october 2018, coleman filed a defamation claim against grand, requesting extensive damages. a month later, grand filed counterclaims alleging libel and intentional infliction of emotional distress. in 2021, a lower court judge denied the claims of both parties. coleman immediately appealed, and awaits a decision. the backlash was immediate. several musicians left coleman’s band. friends and strangers denounced him as a predator. he lost work from the get go. the jazz gallery, where he’d performed and held regular public workshops for two decades, peremptorily terminated the association at the end of 2018. there followed a disastrous 2019, as the vanguard canceled a scheduled week, the newport jazz festival kiboshed a concert and promoters in chile reneged on a tour. the drought continued during the covid year of 2020, as several livestream presenters excluded him from playing. his bands resumed international touring in 2021. however, coleman said, “i can count our gigs in the united states since 2018 on one hand,” with brief hits at a short lived brooklyn club and john zorn’s the stone, and a scheduled appearance at the 2025 big ears festival. “we had agreements, people backtracked, and musicians suddenly didn’t have work,” coleman said. “i showed everyone the evidence, and they chose to ignore it. if i tell musicians i’m going to pay them, and then a promoter stiffs me, i pay out of my pocket. i have my own code of ethics. it involves truthfulness. it doesn’t involve hurting people; if you do hurt somebody, try to rectify it. it certainly doesn’t involve forcing women to have sex.” true to form, coleman found a musical analogy for his code of ethics. “coltrane, bird and duke ellington contain certain truths that you can choose to ignore or look at,” he said. “was ‘a love supreme’ just a title coltrane felt good about, or does something in the music, structurally and emotionally, pertain to what the words mean? ‘leo’ is one note jumping around octaves. what does that note have to do with the constellation in the zodiac? duke’s suites impressed wynton marsalis so much that he tried to emulate them with blood on the fields and things like this. that’s what he’s supposed to do. whoever you are, regardless of style, you still have to take care of the music’s inner workings   the nuts and bolts. i can throw up some random notes and then tell people it’s about dna and amino acids. how will you refute me? you don’t know shit about it. or i can really do it, and then it’s at another level. “i agree with wynton, barry harris and lou donaldson that there needs to be a certain standard of excellence. if you tell people something’s great when it isn’t, you’re not helping them. i’m not just pulling my opinions out of my ass. when i teach, i may mention bach or palestrina in passing, or touch on the music of cuba and africa and brazil and the other places i went to, but i can never tell you i’m an expert in any of them. i’m relating it to what i personally know well, which is the music of african americans and the tradition that extends from the great cats who preceded us. of course, i see some similarities between what african americans did and afro cubans did. i see similarities in everything.” db ​sarah elizabeth charles “dawn” at loove labs annex on jan. 11. ​mike reed’s separatist party on the dada strain stage during the brooklyn marathon. rudresh mahanthappa hero trio at loove labs annex on jan. 11. brooklyn has long harbored a self contained jazz (and broader music) scene of its own   but that’s not the subject of winter jazzfest’s brooklyn marathon. it’s really a function of the fact that the once compact marathon program has grown too big for its lower manhattan origins. the music heard jan. 11 in venues across the williamsburg neighborhood aren’t proprietary to the neighborhood, the borough or even necessarily to new york city itself: the venues are just an extension of wjf’s overall celebration of the whole jazz world. that being the case, this writer decided to spend the night among the tight cluster of bandstands orbiting wythe avenue in the neighborhood’s northern section. it started at national sawdust with one of the night’s more exciting, cutting edge summits: the vijay iyer trio +1, with guest trumpeter adam o’farrill. (iyer and drummer tyshawn sorey were joined by matt brewer, sitting in for regular trio bassist linda oh, who had her own festival gig.) “forgive me for talking like an old man, but i’ve known this trumpet player since he was in middle school,” iyer said before the set. “he’s part of a dynasty of incredible musicians.” indeed, all of them are incredible, as they demonstrated on this night. sorey and brewer locked in immediately on the opening “arch,” with the drummer balancing a soft touch against a complex rhythmic matrix and the bassist bringing a confident authority that was as much felt as heard. alternating between open horn, mutes and electronic effects, o’farrill ripped forth with foreboding lyrical lines alternated with severe, syncopated figures to brilliantly off kilter effect. the real star of the set, though, was iyer. always a percussive, passionate player, he held court at national sawdust with a rare degree of soulfulness, as if the winter cold and the energy of the crowd had trigged something unusual in him. there was an iceberg theory ferocity in his piano playing and a glow to the rhodes lines he switched to on “tempest.” there was nothing submerged, however, about the ferocity that isaiah collier unleashed down the street at brooklyn bowl. the chicago born tenor saxophonist led a quartet version of his band the chosen few (pianist george burton, bassist jon michel, drummer joe dyson) through tunes from his politically charged recent album, the world is on fire (“i didn’t see that [title] landing as strong as it did in the current circumstances,” he said, acknowledging the wildfires that were at that very moment devastating los angeles). from the moment they started, the chosen few tore the place apart. there was a furious alchemy at work among the four players, mindful of the classic john coltrane quartet but with its own manifestation of unrelenting momentum. “amerikkka the ugly”   which, collier explained, was a meditation on the horrors of jan. 6, 2021, now reascendant with donald trump’s return to the white house   made a deep emotional impact as it sonically evoked the angst, dread and shock of that day’s notoriously violent uprising. collier’s performance hit hard. he followed it with “the world is on fire,” which despite its title came as a welcome catharsis. it also featured his chicago mentor, saxophonist ernest dawkins, letting loose with bluesy howls that shook the walls of the place. (i should note that i was close to the stage in what was an enormous venue, but one offset by the bowling alley that the place is really designed to be. other attendees, further back, reported only hearing an unnuanced roar from the stage.) a trip to loove labs annex, a small recording studio on north 6th street, demonstrated one of the pitfalls of winter jazzfest: these venues fill up, and the smaller ones fill up fast. loove was full to capacity, leaving a line outside to wait, for example, until three people trickled out before a party of three could go in. getting inside turns out to be the easy part; there’s an outer foyer, holding an overflow crowd nearly as big as the one in the actual performance space. hence an attempt to check out darius jones resulted only in his coarse but powerful alto saxophone bursts being occasionally heard over the nattering would be audience. the good news, though, is that the room turned over for the matthew shipp trio. the pianist, alongside regular collaborators michael bisio (bass) and newman taylor baker (drums), did an hour’s worth of impressionistic, undiluted abstraction that lived up to the name of their 2024 album new concepts in piano trio jazz. in fact, the performance seemed to be one long variation on that album’s opening track, “primal poem”   also a good description of what we heard at loove labs. shipp began with a riff that seemed to invert the album track’s tune, with bisio (alternating between bow and fingers) and baker following, commenting, rejoining and diverting shipp. it wasn’t as smooth and seamless as that may sound: at times the pianist’s attack on the keyboard resembled a swimmer’s doggy paddle, though always with surprising harmonic care. at another point, shipp and bisio launched into a two way dialogue, the bass laying down a walking line as the piano crashed against it, while the drums added some minor asides. baker, however, made up for that later, in the show’s most striking and memorable moment: he played a drum solo with open hands on the skins, then transferred it to his chest and shoulders. these were snapshots of a festival that’s grown exponentially in its 20 plus years in new york. if its size is becoming a bit unwieldy, its quality is still managing to keep up. db ​a photo collage promoting artists slated to perform at this year’s jazzahead! showcase concerts. full details of the showcase concerts for the 19th edition of jazzahead!, the world’s largest annual jazz industry gathering, have been released. the combination trade fair, industry conference and artistic showcase will be held april 24 26 at the congress centrum in bremen, germany. each year, the showcase features artists from a partner country. this year, however, jazzahead! for the first time has engaged a partner region, including the three former partner countries of spain (2012), france (2015) and switzerland (2016) in an effort to spotlight ongoing developments in european jazz scenes and forge new personal connections. (jazzahead! refers to this first time arrangement as a “reconnect” edition.) while the showcase begins in earnest on thursday, april 24, it will host a grand opening gala and concert on wednesday evening (april 23) with a performance that brings together the three countries that constitute the new partner region. swiss guitarist louis matute will lead his large ensemble, featuring spanish trumpeter yelfris valdés, with french singer célia kameni serving as guest vocalist. while spain, france and switzerland are the primary emphasis of this year’s showcase, they are far from its only participants. in addition to the reconnect showcase, the program also features individual expositions for europe, africa and overseas, and the host country of germany. all told, the showcase will feature 40 jazz artists from 23 countries across five continents. in addition, jazzahead! on april 25 will present its annual clubnight feature. about three dozen venues   clubs, bars, theaters, museums and other locations in bremen’s city center   will present live jazz and jazz adjacent music in an all night extravaganza. (the full schedule will be released soon.) tickets are available for the trade show, the showcase, clubnight and packages featuring all three. for more information on jazzahead!, click here. db the monterey jazz festival has implemented a new branding strategy to reflect an expanded vision that includes the organization’s ongoing professional and educational programming. components of the new overarching “monterey jazz” brand will support all the monterey jazz pillars: the long running jazz festival, jazz education and community engagement. the new umbrella sets the stage for a heightened focus on year round initiatives and reinforces the organization’s nonprofit status. meanwhile, darin atwater, who served as artistic director of last year’s festival, has stepped down after just one festival. the reason for his departure was described as a personal matter, according to monterey county now newspaper. “we wish darin all the best and support him in his artistic career,” said ken gordon, monterey jazz board president, of atwater’s departure. bruce labadie, the festival and artistic director for san jose jazz, will help book this year’s festival. there are more changes happening at the organization. monterey jazz will launch a new website to be more reflective of its new initiatives. the site will be easier to navigate and more adaptive for better mobile and tablet viewing. monterey jazz has also announced four new board members. adam band is the director of national chain accounts for full circle brewing, for whom he has cultivated relationships with corporate buyers at prominent national retailers such as costco, trader joe’s, safeway and more. band is a former member of the next generation jazz orchestra. david barnard is senior vice president of investor relations for lha investor relations inc., a strategic ir consulting agency. he is also a trombone player with a degree in jazz studies from indiana university. maya enista sith has been a successful nonprofit and foundation ceo with a strong business and financial acumen. she was the first executive director of the born this way foundation, co founded by lady gaga and her mother, cynthia germanotta, to support mental wellness and create a kinder and braver world. ana toledo is an experienced labor and employment attorney at noland, hammerly, etienne & hoss who has a long relationship with the monterey jazz festival. she has served on the boards of the center for community advocacy, york school and the national steinbeck center. in addition, the monterey jazz organization is reorganizing its workforce to prepare for a growth period. bobbie young, currently director of operations, will become managing director, working to ensure that existing programs, including the festival, remain the gold standard in the fields of jazz and jazz education. bruce labadie, a jazz community veteran with more than 40 years in performing arts management and festival production, will assist in programming the annual festival. colleen bailey will transition out of her current role as executive director to lead mjf special projects. “for 67 years, the monterey jazz festival has been one of monterey’s defining events, drawing tens of thousands of visitors to the area each september,” said gordon. “in this next iteration, monterey jazz will leverage its rich heritage and legacy to draw music lovers to monterey throughout the year, providing a significant cultural and economic benefit to the monterey community.” for more information on monterey jazz, click here. db gerald and john clayton at the family home in altadena during a photo shoot for the june 2022 cover of downbeat. the house was lost during the los angeles fires. roy mccurdy and his wife had just finished eating dinner and were relaxing over coffee in their altadena home, when he heard someone banging on his front door. “our neighbor said, ‘you gotta get out, man, there’s a big fire in the back,” recalled mccurdy, the drummer best known for his work with cannonball adderley. “i came out looking, and the whole [mountainside], it was all red. all the neighbors were getting their cars packed up. … we just grabbed what we could and got out, went to a hotel, and finally wound up over here at my daughter’s.” the windstorm and resultant fires that ravaged much of los angeles mere days after ringing in the new year have terrorized entire communities here, and the jazz community has been hit especially hard. altadena has been home to jazz musicians for many, many decades, dating back to the 1960s and ’70s, when the remnant effects of discriminatory redlining laws in the los angeles area led to many black families being drawn to this quaint mountain town just to the north and west of pasadena. mccurdy went back to his neighborhood the next day, only to find houses on his street burning one by one as they lit up in a chain like a giant fuse, headed straight for his home. thankfully, firefighters arrived and stopped the burn from reaching his property. sadly, many of his neighbors lost their homes, including his own son. bennie maupin was also at home the night of the fires, and while he has safely evacuated to the campus of soka university in aliso viejo, his home of 30 years has been lost. “everything is destroyed, man. everything. i’m mostly concerned about my friends, the elderly people who lived basically alone. i’m doing ok. but it’s a real disaster for many of them,” he lamented. “tell everybody thanks for their heartfelt feelings.” louis van taylor, for many years a saxophonist with the funk pop group kool and the gang, has been living in altadena since 1975. he returned home from a gig that night, only to promptly leave his house again and for the last time, losing everything except for the horns he had played earlier in the evening. he recalled the vibrant presence of many jazz artists who lived nearby. “i remember when tootie heath used to live off of new york drive,” he said. “i remember that billy childs used to be in the area. robert kyle used to live in altadena. bennie maupin and john clayton. funny thing is, i was just starting to warm up to john, going over to his house, [asking him for] orchestration lessons. so now that’s gone.” this writer has also been to clayton’s home, invited there by the master bassist and bandleader to interview him and his son, pianist gerald clayton. we conversed in his studio, a serene, spacious room with windows and skylights that cast warm sunlight throughout, onto beautiful wooden cabinets that displayed his many albums and awards, and held uncountable scores and charts he had composed over his illustrious career. it’s all gone, including his prized possession, the bass clayton’s mentor ray brown played on for most of his life. clayton and his wife happened to be in new york, being honored with the bruce lundvall visionary award by the jazz congress during an annual meeting at jazz at lincoln center, when word of the fires reached him. he managed to make it through the ceremony, soon after confirming the terrible news about his home. somehow, he managed to press on with his festival duties, which included performing a tribute to the guitarist russell malone, who died last year. “i had to work to be in the moment at the award ceremony,” clayton said in a social media post. “i dug as deeply as i could to focus on everyone’s energy and the positivity centered around me as the awardee. it was a fabulous event.” he called it “a day of simultaneous celebration and grief.” in recent years, altadena began to attract younger people looking for an affordable place to buy a home. many of those people are artists and musicians who became part of a new generation that formed close knit bonds with each other and with those who had lived there a long time. “i just think of this place that i love so, so much,” said saxophonist hailey niswanger, a mainstay in downbeat’s critics poll as a rising star on alto and soprano saxophone. she moved to altadena three years ago. “it’s the first place that like felt like home for me.” she, like clayton, was not in los angeles when the wind and fire struck. she had to ask her partner to gather up as many of her instruments and personal keepsakes as he could before fleeing. he was not able to grab everything. “the hard drives that were lost   there’s music i wrote throughout my life that i never recorded professionally. there’s bootlegs of songs and ideas and compositions. all my pictures pre 2021. my childhood blanket,” she recounted, despair welling in her voice. “i think about gifts that my musical mentor gave me, and vintage books that he had from his life, and my grandma’s jewelry   and it just kind of goes on and on and on.” there are many others. in pacific palisades, this writer once visited composer vince mendoza’s home, elegant but modest only by comparison to the mansions built next to him in the years after he moved there. but the fires were uncaring as to whom they unleashed their fury on. trumpeter bobby bradford, age 90, finds himself homeless, as do saxophonists dale fielder and steve lehman, pianists jeff lorber and miro sprague, guitarist jamie rosenn, drummer joel taylor and more. the jazz community has rallied to help those who have lost everything. a spreadsheet has been created that identifies as many artists as possible known to have lost their homes, linking to their go fund me pages. as of this writing, those gfm’s have raised nearly $13.5 million for the victims. organizations like musicares, namm and the california jazz foundation and jazz clubs such as sam first are spearheading their own fundraising efforts. “the gratitude i feel for other people showing up for us, the donations and the gifts and the places to stay, and it’s just so much attention ... . i’m so grateful, but i’m so overwhelmed, too,” niswanger said. clayton wrote this to his supporters: “the love you show for me and my family affects me in ways that i can’t truly convey to you. you already know i’m a crybaby. i’m sad and devastated about my house   that’s another kind of crying. the tears that you bring are tears of overwhelming gratitude and thankfulness that you are in my life.” “as a long time resident of altadena,” said van taylor, “i was very proud to be living in an enclave of talented musicians and a pretty well rounded community, and i always felt a sense of   and i still do   a connection to altadena because it provided that diversity of not only players but a fan base of just regular people there, so i feel, probably like a lot of people, that there’s a good future out of this devastation.” he continued: “i believe altadena will be rebuilt, and i think there will be opportunities perhaps out of all this to increase the visibility, of availability of the arts ... . so i feel inspired even though this is devastating ... . i look forward to the future of the resurrecting the inspiration and all that history, and all that good stuff that altadena represents.” db the new bad plus, from left, chris speed, reid anderson, dave king and ben monder. especially by the fickle standards of jazz band shelf lives, the bad plus has enjoyed a very good run. with the release of complex emotions, the 19th album in a discography now stretching back a quarter century, the epic bad plus saga continues   with a few twists along the way. the salient capital t twist of the last few years witnessed the core founding duo and songwriting machinery of drummer dave king and bassist reid anderson in sharp pivot mode. the group’s 21 year status as a subversive yet accessible piano trio   17 with ethan iverson and a few years with orrin evans   shifted into the current neo jazz rockier sound of a quartet with tenor saxophone and distorted electric guitar (chris speed and ben monder, respectively). after evans left to pursue his own thriving solo career, currently enjoying deserved kudos and attention, king and anderson pondered the long brewing idea of playing with a quartet or wondering if the bad plus had run its course. as king explains, they opted to call on speed and monder, whom they’d played with for years in various situations, and see “what happens if we pivot this thing completely to a different instrumentation, and then we kind of started to lean in and go. it’s fun to restart something that has in it a dna continuation. it continues the connection of reid and i. we started playing music together when we were 14 years old. now we’re 54. we’re at 40 years of playing music together, and we’re still trying to stay fresh.” speaking of the current incarnation and the new album, king describes the prevailing company spirit in the band: “here we are, we are on record number two with this new band, and there’s no signs of slowing and no signs of needing to explain ourselves. we’re not in the world to make things hoping people understand. we feel just sort of, ‘this is what we have to offer.’ “maybe the album captures three years of nonstop road work and the idea that there’s a tune of chris’ on it [the funky “cupcake one”] and a tune of ben’s on it [the impressionistic album closer “li po”], which stretches the compositional view even further. it’s an exciting time for us.” as heard on the new album and this group’s 2022 debut, cagily entitled simply the bad plus. (note the period for emphasis), and in live forum   such as a livewire set at the 2023 monterey jazz festival   the textural game has changed, but the evolutionary arc and story remains true to bad plus form. holding down the core identity and essence of the bad plus is the kinship of king and anderson, whose musical connection goes back to their formative years as musically curious teens in minneapolis. among their twin cities musical pals were pianist craig taborn and bassist anthony cox. king and anderson share a certain dry, absurdist sense of humor and a will to create a fresh sound by writing infectious and sometimes quirky songs blessed with … well, complex emotions and forms. they also heed a self defined doctrine of tapping into various musical directions, in jazz and beyond. this, after all, is a group whose “cover” material ranges from nirvana’s “smells like teen spirit” and black sabbath’s “iron man” to an ambitious trio arrangement of igor stravinsky’s modernist masterpiece rite of spring (after several performances about a decade ago, they had to cease and desist, for legal reasons). king notes that he and anderson “grew up listening to all kinds of jazz music and rock music and classical music. instead of turning things away and thinking hierarchically, we would just let it all in naturally. whether or not [the bad plus is] a rock band, a jazz group, has fusion elements, whether or not it was this or that, at the end of the day, it’s more of an art project statement.” another matter of complexity in the band approach is a playful exploration of odd and compound meters, but deployed in a natural and artful way. on the new album, tunes like king’s 5/4 “casa ben” (about a historic house, not about ben monder, king clarifies), the slippery metric schemes of anderson’s “french horns” (so named because the composer felt there weren’t enough songs about or for french horns) and other tunes make the foursquare 4/4 groove of speed’s “cupcakes one” feel like a misfit. among the barbs from critical detractors, the band has endured. king cites the misguided comment along the lines of, “‘oh, you know, the bad plus will not use some jazz harmony, only every now and again. that must mean that they don’t know jazz harmony.’ that was always so laughable to us, like the idea that jackson pollock didn’t know how to paint. we’d have to painfully listen to that kind of observation. “we’re not creating out of limitation. sometimes we’ve used blatant minimalism as a tool, whereas in modern jazz, you don’t hear a lot of people using blatant minimalism. it widens our sound. we’re creating out of conceptualization. “to restrain yourself from all the tools that you have was an important idea to us. we could sit and play everything in odd meter. we could sit and play polyrhythmic fractures and could use chromatic harmonic systems. we could do all these things all the time, and then have long solos and blow at the end. that’s never been enough for us   ever. “we’re interested in song structure and the idea of some sort of hook in the music that you can hang your hat on. then we can, scorched earth style, improvise together, mess with structure, stress the foundation of structure, and then see what it can withstand. and from that, we feel like that can be an interesting, more complex space to inhabit artistically.” on paper, the bad plus success story suggests an overnight sensation, which led to the trio becoming a collective variation on the venerable piano trio tradition, a neo trio for the 21st century. the group’s 2000 album motel, on the fresh sounds new talent label, garnered a major buzz of critical attention, from the new york times on down, luring the attention of columbia records. that buzz, according to king, “was the way we went into the world, like an open door. we shot through it because we had been kind of pounding around for so many years. we were off the radar, and were 32 years old when we signed with columbia records. we had put the band together and we were just gonna do whatever it takes and stay together. and we just pounded it for a few years, touring in vans, and we released that little record. and it just kind of caught fire, which led to the columbia debut, which we were able to make into an impactful album. “we had this idea to look at the piano trio, look at its history. now what can we do to it? how do we reconceptualize and recontextualize the piano trio?” the audience and critical response was strong, immediate and surprisingly broad in its appeal. king notes, “it was a huge point of pride for us that we would have jazzheads at the show and also a very large demographic of age differences, generational differences, sitting together at our shows. “it was this idea that we drew not only learned, diehard jazz people, but indie rock people, hip hop people and electronic music fans   different people coming from different backgrounds, checking us out and being kind of turned on to whatever information was in there. it was a more complex relationship, more of a mixed media art relationship. it wasn’t like, ‘i like rock music, so i want the rock beats in the jazz songs.’ “it was much more like, there was an energy to our openness that i think made people feel like it was ok to enter those hallowed halls and maybe not have mal waldron records in your collection,” he laughs, “but be able to go, ‘you know what? i like this.’ “our ethos has always been, ‘we love this, and we think you will, too.’ it’s not about exclusion, it’s about inclusion from note one. and we believe that if thelonious monk, you know, we believe thelonious monk translates to many, many people that wouldn’t know anything about jazz or anything. i’ve always felt like i could play a thelonious monk record for my 5 year old son. he was like, ‘i love this.’ “i think that art, in general, would be appreciated more across the board if people were less intimidated by it. if you could contribute to that energy by being open, by being unpretentious and not insulting your audience and avoiding hierarchical thinking, then your audience is gonna grow naturally.” cryptic and drolly funny titles for both albums and songs are part and parcel of the bad plus spirit. in one example, they tapped into a seeming work ethic motto for the 2010 album title never stop, then jokingly dubbing their first album with evans, in 2018, never stop ii. could there be a never stop iii in the future? king says, with a laugh, “maybe in 20 years when chris and ben finally retired from the bad plus, and it’s just reid and i, finally making that duo album we always wanted to make.” db the old country: more from the deer head inn arrives 30 years after ecm issued the keith jarret trio live album at the deer head inn. last november, keith jarrett, who has not played publicly since suffering two strokes in 2018, greenlighted ecm to drop the old country: more from the deer head inn. it arrives 30 years after ecm issued at the deer head inn, documenting eight tracks from a memorable 1992 gig at the four story, mansard roofed, porch wrapped mid 19th country hotel that has presented high level jazz in delaware water gap, pennsylvania, population 666, since 1951. recorded direct to two track on dat, the albums feature jarrett on the house steinway with his regular bassist gary peacock and (filling in for jack dejohnette) paul motian, swinging hard, as he’d done in the 1950s with oscar pettiford and lennie tristano. “not many people knew about the deer head then,” said drummer bill goodwin, who produced both albums. a los angeles native, goodwin moved his family to the poconos in 1970, the year he and jarrett   a friend since 1966   toured and recorded with gary burton. goodwin recalled a picnic at jarrett’s nearby home in western new jersey, where chris solliday (jarrett’s piano tuner) and his wife dona (the daughter of original deer head proprietors bob and fay lehr, and jarrett’s friend since both were young) revealed that they’d purchased the business from her parents. soon thereafter, jarrett told goodwin his plan to perform a benefit for the deer head, and asked if motian could use his drums. goodwin agreed, and asked jarrett to allow him and kent heckman, owner of nearby red rock studios, to document the evening. “as long as you don’t get in our way,” jarrett said. on an early december phone call, jarrett corroborated goodwin’s account. “the music had a seamlessness,” was all he’d say of his initial decision to release the proceedings, noting that the first cd contains his favorite version of “bye bye blackbird.” jarrett grew up in allentown, pennsylvania., 45 miles west of delaware water gap, where his mother worked across the street from the deer head in the headquarters of fred waring, who brought jarrett on tour with his young pennsylvanians in 1962, a year after jarrett played his first deer head gig as a sub for pianist johnny coates. coates was also 16 when he debuted at the deer head in 1954. in 1962, coates began a 50 year run as de facto house pianist with a distinctive americana tinged concept, while working days for waring’s shawnee press as an editor and choral arranger. jarrett continued to frequent the club on trips home during the ’60s; in 1969, he convened a trio with local musicians gus nemeth on bass and bob ventrello on drums for an attenuated european tour. goodwin discovered coates on his maiden voyage to the poconos with pianist composer bob dorough. “bob said there was a bar nearby that had a piano player,” he reminisced. “at 10 p.m., john comes out, sits down and starts playing. within 32 bars, i thought, ‘this guy’s a genius.’ after i moved to the poconos, keith and i would bring our drumsets and sit in.” “john was writing new songs every few weeks,” current co owner bob mancuso recalled. “he caught everybody’s attention. the place was packed.” jarrett cosigned, “i’d see the cars coming down the highway and think, ‘i know where they’re going.’” the room became a magnet for musicians looking to unwind from gigs in one of the area’s resorts, among them the mount airy casino, where goodwin   again via dorough   spent a year playing alongside bassist steve gilmore in a dance band. when the eminent alto saxophonist phil woods (a resident of nearby new hope from 1957 to 1968) moved to the gap in late 1973 with goodwin’s sister, jill, after four years in europe and california, goodwin helped him form the band that launched the efflorescent second stage of woods’ career, recruiting gilmore, pianist mike melillo and guitarist harry leahey. chris solliday found woods a good yamaha piano and regularly tuned it, perhaps spurring woods, who died in 2015, to bequeath it to the deer head, where he performed frequently, generating an album with his last quintet and two freewheeling duo albums with coates. mancuso, his son jay, his college classmate dennis carrig and carrig’s sister, mary carrig, purchased the deer head from the sollidays in 2005, 35 years after carrig   who died last nov. 15   introduced him to the club. “the place was in bad shape,” said mancuso, who had a construction business. “over time, we fixed the porches, which were rotted out, replaced the roofs, rewired and replumbed each floor, put private baths in each room and worked on the kitchen. after that, we were doing pretty well, but many of our big name players either passed or moved away, and it took a few years to find a new pool of musicians. the crowds started to build up again, but covid knocked us back a while, though a few permanent apartments covered our basic expenses. with insurance, taxes and overhead, it’s not easy. nobody’s getting rich. but we’re lucky because musicians like the place and want to come back.” among them is vocalist songwriter tessa souter, whose third 2024 appearance at the deer head transpired thanksgiving saturday before a full house. the patrons paid rapt attention as souter sang her lyrics to erik satie compositions that constitute a forthcoming album, accompanied masterfully by billy drummond on drums and poconos adjacent residents jim ridl and evan gregor on piano and bass, respectively. “my policy is to play only in places i feel comfortable inviting people to,” souter said. “the deer head is definitely one of them. the owners and patrons respect the music, the food is good, and so are the sightlines and the sound.” “our overall philosophy is to try to treat people right,” said carrig, who operated the soundboard that night. “that means trying to treat them as you’d like to be treated if you were coming into a place to work.” gone are the bibulous days when, mancuso recalled, “bob lehr would pull the shutters down   next thing you knew, it was sunrise.” but the blend of high standards and relaxed atmosphere remains at the thursday night jam sessions, led by guitarist bill washer and propelled by goodwin. so does the admixture of musicians, artists, artisans and other nonconformists who’ve formed the room’s core audience since 1951. “we’ve developed a reputation that the music is good and you enjoy yourself,” mancuso said . “we don’t get a lot of complainers.” db “it’s not older music. it’s our music,” says james inglehart, who plays louis armstrong in a new musical on broadway. louis armstrong’s career was long, diverse and full of the unexpected   both on stage and off. downbeat often recognized armstrong’s noteworthy presence as a musician through cover articles and even columns in his own words. he became a major presence in movies and on television, taking his larger than life persona well beyond music. and he was beloved. armstrong was the very first artist inducted into the downbeat hall of fame in the 1952 readers poll. some 123 years after his birth, armstrong’s legacy lives on. and now, a wonderful world: the louis armstrong musical serves as the next vehicle for bringing his life and times to a new generation. just as armstrong donned more than one hat over his career, tony winning actor james iglehart not only chose to embrace the lead role, but also is making his directorial debut with a wonderful world, alongside co director and fellow broadway actor christina sajous. during the pandemic, iglehart watched a ken burns documentary on armstrong and subsequently suggested to his agent that a musical should be made about armstrong’s life. coincidentally, there were folks already hard at work on this very idea. a few phone calls later and the like minds agreed to connect post shutdown. iglehart and sajous eventually found themselves at the helm of a project that was hardly a typical bio pic production. this depiction of louis armstrong comes from the perspective of his four wives: daisy parker, lil hardin armstrong, alpha smith and lucille wilson. much like armstrong’s life, a wonderful world has come a long way and evolved since its initial conception in 2019 by theater director christopher renshaw, the late novelist/director andrew delaplaine and playwright aurin squire. persistence and creativity would eventually take the production from its covid labored, but highly praised, beginnings in miami to the achievement of a broadway run that was set to open at new york’s studio 54 in november. speaking by phone, iglehart dicussed his experience getting to know louis armstrong, portraying him on stage, and the duality of acting and directing. kira grunenberg: what about this portrayal of louis armstrong did you find most compelling? james iglehart: it was the guy behind the trumpet that i found so interesting, and that i really saw a kinship with. there was something about the spirit of [louis armstrong], going through all these things, having this talent and yet being told, “you’re not black enough,” or, “you’re only playing for the white folks,” or, “you can’t do this, you can’t do that.” i saw that and went, “oh, gosh, i know this guy very well. and i think i could do justice to this.” grunenberg: how has your knowledge of directing influenced your approach to acting   particularly for this leading role? iglehart: when you’re an actor, you try to see the whole picture but you really try to focus on what you’re doing. like, “where is my character’s journey, and how do i get from a to b? how does this character react to this?” when you’re the director, you have to see the whole thing   all of the characters. where are they going? where are their arcs? where do their arcs meet and how do they match up? how do they affect the other person to get to the end? and so [being a co director on this project] helped me. i’m looking at the whole [show] and going, “ok, so to get from here to here, i have to affect these people, and these people affect me here.” grunenberg: what are some ways your development of this role and show differed from experiences when you were solely acting? iglehart: [christina sajous and i] help [christopher renshaw] find the vision he wants to do. and so we’re guides in certain places, saying, “i think that’s a good idea.” he says, “ok well, you facilitate that and do that.” and then we throw in our ideas and we discuss, sometimes debate, on what it should be and how it should be. grunenberg: which element of louis armstrong’s personality did you find most challenging to capture and portray? iglehart: playing those moments where [armstrong] would say or do something i knew i wouldn’t do, because i want to only show the best of him. you can’t have a whole story where someone is a saint the entire time. i had to go to some of my dark places and say, “james, you’re not perfect. i know you try to smile and see the shiny side, but there’s a greedy side, too. so take that moment and go with it.” grunenberg: how has your view of jazz changed since working on this production? iglehart: it’s changed dramatically. i’m a hip hop kid, so my first real introduction to jazz was like gang starr and the guru rapping over jazz, or a tribe called quest or q tip putting jazz beats out, you know? studying [armstrong] and realizing where those rhythms come from, where certain chords and progressions come from, or just the idea that these brothers got together and made something different, it was like hip hop and it made me realize, “our folks aren’t just reinventing the wheel. each generation has their own version of this jazz as a metaphor.” and it was all of a sudden really, really cool to see these guys, the king olivers or the lil hardins, or the louis armstrongs. they were like different mcs coming up with different styles. and certain jazz musicians would do certain things that would change the trajectory of the music. not only is jazz an american created music, but it’s an african american created music. we made that   or i should say, the older brothers made that   and that was something to appreciate. when i was younger, i didn’t look at it like that; i was like, “oh, this is older music.” and now i’m like, “no, it’s not older music. it’s our music.” db “the first recording i owned with brazilian music on it was wayne shorter’s native dancer,” says renee rosnes. “and then i just started to go down the rabbit hole.” in her four decade career, renee rosnes has been recognized as a singular voice, both as a jazz composer and a superlative pianist. she’s also a bandleader, the founder of artemis   downbeat readers’ choice as jazz group of year for 2024   and a favorite side person of legendary masters including ron carter, in whose foursight quartet she has been a member for more than a decade. she has played with joe henderson, j.j. johnson, wayne shorter, james moody and bobby hutcherson, just to drop a few of the names on her remarkable resume. her post bop compositions are informed by her classical education, employing advanced harmonies and lush, unpredictable melodies; they often serve as a showcase for her quietly extravagant piano technique. besides artemis, many other major artists have recorded her works, including phil woods, j.j. johnson, michael dease and the sfjazz collective, of which she was a founding member. with their ambition, formal structure and depth of feeling, her songs put rosnes in the company of the best jazz composers. or, as bill charlap, the celebrated pianist and her husband of 17 years, puts it, “you know, i can compose, but renee is a composer.” and yet, for her latest album, crossing paths (smoke sessions), she has put aside composition, temporarily, to focus on an early and abiding love: brazilian music. for some of her fans the celebration of brazil may come as a bit of a surprise. her previous albums   nine on blue note and three on smoke sessions   have included occasional forays into brazil. but none foreshadowed this fusion of classic brazilian songs and jazz. to fully realize the project, rosnes recruited an all star band of musicians from brazil and the u.s., including bassist john patitucci, guitarist chico pinheiro, drummer adam cruz and percussionist rogério boccato, with the addition of saxophonist chris potter and trombonist steve davis on several tracks. moreover, she secured the participation of two of the most significant brazilian singer songwriters of the last 50 years, edu lobo and joyce moreno, to sing their own songs; as well as singer maucha adnet   a 10 year veteran of performing with antonio carlos jobim in his banda nova   to sing two songs by the maestro. “i was honored to have all three of them on this album,” she said. rosnes’ performances on piano sound like nothing she has recorded before. she acknowledged the departure from her usual piano style, saying, “i think you’re finding an authentic renee in there as well because i’ve loved this music for so long.” she spoke to downbeat in a zoom interview from the two steinway home in new jersey that she shares with charlap. (for the record, her name is pronounced “ree nee”   an affectionate version of irene, her given name.) but what is her usual piano style? her husband describes it as an egoless devotion to what the song demands. on egberto gismonti’s frenetic “frevo,” for instance, she intertwines high energy solos with pinheiro, darting and weaving. on another tune, lobo’s “pra dizer adeus,” she plays the melancholy bossa nova much like jobim would have done, with an elegant simplicity, even singing along with her piano solo in a very jobim like manner. “when jobim recorded that song,” she said, “he started to spontaneously sing while he was playing. i deferred to edu about it. i said if he didn’t like it, i wouldn’t do it. he liked it.” but crossing paths contains more than the usual bossa novas that casual fans of brazilian music might expect; it includes sambas and northeastern regional styles like frevo. her love for brazilian music, like that of many north american fans, goes back to jobim. “i suppose my first exposure to brazilian music was through his music. but the first recording i owned with brazilian music on it was wayne shorter’s native dancer,” which introduced milton nascimento to north americans. “and then i just started to go down the rabbit hole, checking out all kinds of brazilian artists.” one in particular attracted her: “elis regina   you couldn’t help but fall in love with her; she had so much flair and joy and passion! and all the singer songwriters (whose songs) she recorded   that led me to edu lobo and gilberto gil.” she first had the idea to make a brazilian album 30 years ago, she said, but the time didn’t seem right. instead, she recorded occasional brazilian songs like gismonti’s “sanfona” and the jobim songs “modinha” and “double rainbow”   the latter in a two piano version with charlap   but her original music took precedence. for this album she was ready to do something different. “i started putting together wish lists of (brazilian) tunes i love, and not pieces that were so commonly played. but, as i learned from chico and rogerio, even the pieces i did choose are brazilian classics, songs that everybody there knows. there’s so much beautiful music. i could have done a whole album of edu’s music, or gilberto gil, or jobim. and there are so many composers i didn’t feature. “once i understood that edu and joyce would (participate), i wanted to present their music,” she said. lobo sings two of his songs (“casa forte” and “pra dezir adeus”) and joyce sings one of hers (“essa mulher,” which elis regina made famous). there are also songs by caetano veloso (“trilhos urbanos”), milton nascimento (“estórias da floresta”), gilberto gil (“amor até o fim”) and egberto gismonti (“frevo”). the two songs by jobim, “caminhos cruzados” and “canta, canta mais”   deeper cuts to non brazilian audiences   each feature vocals by adnet. “each of these songs is a world unto itself,” she said. in her arranging, rosnes was trying to get to the essence of the melody and to stay “as true as i could be to the composer’s intention, the emotion of the piece, even if there was no vocalist on that particular song.” she arranged all the songs in advance, decided which instruments she needed for each, and only then chose the musicians. “i needed musicians who i was comfortable with, but also musicians who loved and respected the brazilian tradition.” her relationship with lobo, now 81, began via email two years ago after he sent her a message on instagram. “i had recorded his song “upa neguinho” on my ancestors album in 1996. he thanked me for recording the song and said, ‘nobody recorded it like you did,’ which absolutely floored me.” one of the legendary singer songwriters of the second generation of bossa nova, lobo still sings movingly on the rueful “pra dizer adeus” and with vigor and precision on “casa forte,” a one of a kind instrumental with wordless vocals over an intense northeastern baião rhythm. (“it’s similar to a ‘frevo,’” pinheiro said, “but it’s called a ‘dobrado,’” a kind of brazilian march.) the song, written at the time of brazil’s military coup in the 1960s, was mindlessly banned by government censors. “he told me they prohibited him from performing the song live. but he performed it anyway, because he knew there were no lyrics,” rosnes said. rosnes first met joyce moreno, universally known as joyce, in 1998 when she played piano on her album astronauta: songs of elis, which also featured joe lovano, romero lubambo and mulgrew miller. “in fact, i played on that same song, ‘essa mulher.’ it’s about a woman going through her day and all the different roles she plays: mother, maid, organizer, cook, lover. it’s a beautiful song with a very original melody.” guitarist pinheiro, a native of são paulo who now lives in new york, met rosnes for the first time at the session, although he knew her work with ron carter and artemis. he was impressed by her feel for brazilian music. “she is a consummate and spectacular jazz musician,” he said via zoom, “but brazilian music is different. and it’s not just the ‘time feel,’ like many people think. it’s not just the eighth notes. it’s way deeper than that. it’s a way of approaching the harmony. … it’s not based on ‘two fives’ and ‘functional harmony.’ you can’t analyze it like a jazz musician. “and renee was perfect. her approach to the songs was all about the melody, the vibe, the atmosphere. … as soon as we finished the recording, patitucci and chris potter came to me, and they said, ‘man, this is really special.’ all of them could feel it.” rosnes offers abundant praise for her collaborators. “i hadn’t worked with chico before this album, but i was a fan; he’s a great player, composer and singer. he has a very positive energy about him. he has a wonderful flow to his playing. he’s all about the music.” boccato, patitucci and cruz had played together before. “rogerio is very empathetic and creative,” she said. “we all know john’s a virtuoso. he’s also a lover of brazilian music, having worked with numerous brazilian musicians. like all my favorite players, he has the ability to go anywhere musically. he has huge ears. “this was my first time playing with adam [cruz]. he and john had done a lot of playing together. it was important to have a rhythm section that was comfortable playing together. adam was just perfect, giving the music just what it needs. “i absolutely love playing with chris potter. he’s so popular because of his interpretative skills. he’s also a lover of brazilian music. and steve davis’ round, burnished tone and flowing lyricism were a perfect match for the music. he added another layer of depth to the songs.” the one non jazz musician on the album, flutist shelley brown from toronto, nonetheless plays a crucial role. “shelley is one of my oldest friends,” rosnes said. “she’s a lover of jazz.” while brown doesn’t improvise on the record, her playing is exceptional. “‘frevo’ is not easy to play, and she nailed it.” “and maucha   her voice is so poetic; it has such an original sound, a beautiful vulnerability. i did my homework and knew what the lyrics were about, but even if you don’t know the language, you can tell she’s a gifted storyteller. there were moments when she would comment, ‘oh, jobim would do this here. …’ learning from a person who was close to the composer, that’s a treasure.” rosnes was born in regina, saskatchewan, canada, and raised in vancouver, where she studied classical piano, sang in a vocal group and played jazz piano at local clubs while still in her teens. she attended the university of toronto as a classical performance major. in 1985, on a grant from the canada council for the arts, she came to new york to study and live for a year. “after a year, i realized i wasn’t ready to leave. musically, i felt like i was growing. i was ecstatic to be in a scene with so many musicians in my age group and of like mind.” her first steady gig was at the late night jam session at the blue note, run at the time by trumpeter ted curson. “it was great because i got to hear all the artists who were performing there before i played, so it was a nice perk.” word was spreading about a young female canadian pianist who was tearing it up. charlap recalled hearing her before they ever met. at the time, he was still getting established as a jazz pianist and was taken under the wing of the canadian drummer terry clarke, with whom he played in the joe roccisano orchestra. “terry’s saying to me, ‘man, you’ve got to hear renee rosnes,’” charlap recalled in a separate zoom interview from their home. “she was a new pianist in town, and i’m very young and filled with vim and vigor, and i’m thinking to myself, ‘yeah, yeah, sure, you’re excited about her, but who’s that?’ you know? “then the first time i heard her was at the blue note after hours. and she sounded like an angel. i knew it was, like … ‘oh, buddy!’ she was so advanced. i could hear she was on a totally different level, both from where my playing was at and [from other pianists]. it was like, ok, she’s a master   listen up, kid!” a week later he heard her playing at the village gate in a group with a horn player. “they were playing ‘if i were a bell.’ and i remember just being rapt, and saying, ‘oh, what a perfect pianist. magnificent!’ she’s got everything   beautiful time, gorgeous line, beautiful touch, great harmony. she plays for the group. it’s totally humble. there’s no showing off, yet her mastery shines through all the way.” despite leading artemis and being a renowned solo artist, rosnes remains a member of ron carter’s foursight quartet, now going on 12 years. “i treasure the experience of playing with one of the greatest masters of the bass,” she said. “when ron is the leader, he’s guiding the band musically at all times, even when somebody is soloing. i still find it to be a valuable experience being a sideman. i’m always going to be learning something. and i think we have a beautiful musical rapport.” carter recalled the night he decided to hire rosnes. pianist stephen scott had just left his quartet, and he needed a replacement. “i heard irene playing a couple of sets with joe henderson’s band at fat tuesday’s. she could follow where he was going and meet him at the corner. sex didn’t matter to me; race didn’t matter.” he praised her work ethic and her understanding of harmony. moreover, she has the capacity to play the same set repeatedly but to find something different in the tunes every night. “her solos are thought out. she’s a complete player   that’s why she’s in the chair, man.” charlap and rosnes love to play two piano duets and do so whenever it’s possible to arrange a gig with two steinways   but it doesn’t happen as often as they would like. their duet album, double portrait (blue note), came out in 2010. they also played together on four tracks accompanying tony bennett on his 2015 album the silver lining: the songs of jerome kern. “we very happily hear the beat in the same place, which makes it easy to play together,” rosnes said. “playing duo with bill is just so much fun: he obviously has such a gorgeous touch. it’s not a competition in any way. it’s all in service of the music, what can we do to make the piece shine.” speaking of their unique marriage, charlap said, “even in an intimate relationship there is mystery. she’s also one of the most empathetic players on the scene. when she came to new york, she made it right away. you have to be an extraordinary musician to play with joe henderson and have him say, ‘yes, that’s what i want in my pianist.’ then wayne shorter. these are not just gigs. they are people who hired her to be in their bands.” “there’s something else about her,” charlap added. “renee is a profound listener; she hears everything. it’s what i call perfect hearing. it’s beyond perfect pitch. no matter how harmonically dense or simple it is, renee instantly knows every single note from the top to the bottom. no matter how large the ensemble. it seems impossible. “but she’s canadian   she’ll never brag to you about something like this.” with all her talents and skills, her intuition and depth of feeling, rosnes took a brief hiatus from composing to concentrate on the work of other composers, brazilian ones. why? charlap suggests an answer: “renee is a true composer who writes with great meaning. and, you know, a real composer can recognize a real composer. sir richard rodney bennett is probably the greatest musician that i ever knew. he was one of my best friends, and he was a giant, a student of boulez, a major composer. “and i remember he heard a piece of renee’s. and he said something right away. he said, ‘now that’s a pianist.’ first of all, about her piano playing. then he said, ‘that’s a composer.’ “he knew the depth of the melodic line, the depth of her ability to intuit form and structure, the nuanced, emotional and spiritual areas that she is able to mirror and explore within 12 notes that are just notes. but she’s able to say something with those 12 notes that’s way beyond the cerebral.” rosnes had long since recognized the value of these brazilian composers and their works. “again,” charlap said, “a real composer can recognize a real composer.” db strata east co founder charles tolliver performing at lpr during winter jazzfest 2025. the digital only anthology strata east: the legacy begins, available feb. 21 on all platforms, celebrates the revolutionary spirit of one of the most influential artist owned independent jazz labels in history. a partnership between mack avenue music group and strata east, the anthology brings together iconic tracks that embody strata east’s commitment to artistry and creative freedom. featuring charles tolliver, stanley cowell, the heath brothers, charlie rouse, shamek farrah, pharoah sanders and others, the collection showcases cult classics from the label’s deep catalog while honoring the artists who shaped its legacy. the anthology not only marks the launch of the partnership between strata east and mack avenue music group but also delivers the label’s highest quality audio anthology and is available digitally for the first time. a reflection of strata east’s dedication to spiritual jazz and social consciousness, the compilation invites listeners to rediscover classics or experience them anew. strata east: the legacy begins celebrates the timelessness of this music while marking the start of an exciting new chapter. “strata east records is very proud to be partnering with mack avenue music group, whose passion, values, total commitment, and deep love for the music, mirror ours,” tolliver said. “this is an exciting time and together with mack avenue we can’t wait to bring you, our fans around the world, new essential high quality masters of the strata east catalog. we’ve gone back to the origins so that you can totally immerse yourself in this great music, the emotions, artistic and creative freedom that exemplifies strata east. there is a lot more to come and to be announced, so stay tuned.” will wakefield, senior director of a&r for mack avenue music group, said: “we are excited to partner with charles, ched and the strata east team to bring this beloved music to the world with the highest quality audio and care taken to preserve its purest form. we can’t wait for everyone to hear what we have coming.” specializing in avant garde and post bop jazz, strata east’s notable albums include tolliver’s music inc., cowell’s musa: ancestral streams, charlie rouse’s two is one and billy harper’s capra black. strata east addressed social and political themes resonant with the black arts movement. its pioneering approach to artist rights has inspired generations of musicians and independent labels, cementing its place in jazz history. strata east’s roster featured influential musicians who intertwined music with spoken word in response to their cultural moment. this includes sanders, known for his spiritual and avant garde explorations that inspired a shift in mainstream jazz offerings. despite its short period of recorded music output, strata east’s commitment to artistic freedom and high production standards earned it a place in jazz history. its pioneering approach to artist rights and control has inspired generations of musicians and independent labels, contributing to a vibrant and diverse musical landscape. for more information on strata east, click here. db “i’m a composer who needs a deadline and a project   a recording or a gig   to really start actively writing,” says ryan keberle. the remarkably productive, restlessly creative trombonist, keyboardist, composer and educator ryan keberle recently dropped two separate releases (his 15th and 16th as a leader) on two different labels in the span of just a few weeks. and while there is some overlap between the 44 year old’s superb octet project (bright moments on posi tone records) and his fifth outing with the indie jazz quartet ryan keberle & catharsis (music is connection on alternate side records), each showcases different aspects of his profound musicality. “i feel like being a jazz composer is just as much about taking advantage of the bands and the projects and the individuals in your compositional process as it is putting notes on the page,” said keberle. “for me, that’s one of the things that makes duke and mingus so unbelievably special. and i do think there is a segment of the jazz world that has kind of either lost sight of that or maybe just no longer cares for that tradition. but for me, a huge part of being a jazz composer is how to take advantage of the people that you’re lucky enough to play with. notes on the page, that’s only half the equation.” an accomplished arranger, keberle has learned from a whole string of mentors who have helped shape his vocabulary, from rufus reid, toshiko akiyoshi and david berger early on in his career to maria schneider, whose orchestra he has played in full time for 18 years. he’s also been a longstanding member of darcy james argue’s secret society and ryan truesdell’s gil evans centennial project and learned invaluable lessons in each setting. “darcy’s process couldn’t be more different from maria’s and ryan’s,” said keberle, who grew up in spokane, washington, lived in new york city for 21 years and currently resides in the catskills mountains, about 130 miles north of manhattan. “and that’s what’s fun about working with all of them. and of course, there’s really important things to learn from each of those genius composers and arrangers.” keberle is currently juggling four bands as a leader that tend to overlap at times. aside from catharsis and his brass octet, there’s his mpb influenced collectiv do brasil and his chamber jazz trio reverso. aspects of all those bands come together on his recent octet release, bright moments, which finds him repurposing past compositions for five wind instruments   trumpeter alex norris, saxophonist flutist patrick cornelius, tenor saxophonist flutist diego rivera, keberle on trombone and fellow trombonist and college chum michael dease (both of whom shared top honors in db’s 2024 critics poll) playing strictly baritone saxophone. pianist art hirhara, bassist boris kozlov and drummer rudy royston comprise the flexible rhythm section. the swinging opener, “quintessence,” an ivan lins tribute originally written for catharsis’ 2016 album, azul infinito, showcases the contrapuntal nature of keberle’s writing and arranging style while also highlighting the leader’s golden tone and daring improvisational instincts as primary soloist. “stillness within” (from reverso’s 2022 album, harmonic alchemy) is reimagined as a melancholy tinged number with lots of group interplay before building to a swirling crescendo. the dirge like fugue “all ears” (from reverso’s 2016 album, suite ravel) and the beautiful ballad “sisters of mine” (from reverso’s 2018 outing, the melodic line) also get the richly appointed brass band treatment here. “edu,” a keberle original inspired by brazilian composer edu lobo that appeared on collectiv do brasil’s 2022 album, considerando, is also fleshed out here, as is an ambitious three part suite of tunes based on langston hughes’ politically charged poem from 1935, “let america be america again” (a 2018 chamber music america commission that originally appeared on the 2019 catharsis album the hope i hold). another repurposed number, the melancholy “when i’m away,” originally appeared on keberle’s 2007 debut as a leader, double quartet, which included fellow trombonist (and alternate side records label mate) marshall gilkes along with trumpeter mike rodriguez, a charter member of catharsis. “that album also had tuba and french horn,” he recalled, “so i was already kind of hinting at my love for gil evans on that one.” the lone keberle composition on bright moments that hadn’t previously been recorded is “to be and not to do,” a challenging piece that was originally commissioned by the belgian trombone ensemble crossbones. “they had reached out to me over the pandemic to write some original music,” he recalled, “and at the time i really wasn’t writing much. i’m a composer who needs a deadline and a project   a recording or a gig   to really start actively writing. and so i jumped at the opportunity. listening to that song now, it’s probably one of the more frenetic and melodically active songs that i’ve ever written. i think it reflects a lot of pent up musical and creative energy that i just hadn’t been able to tap into or let loose.” for keberle, juggling his compositions across four different bands is not a matter of compartmentalizing as much as it is about re imagining each in a new suit of clothes. “i do compartmentalize the compositional and the arranging processes,” he said. “the compositional process is music born from some kind of creative state of flow, if you will. and then the arranging process is how do you take these musical ideas and adapt them to any specific band or personality. and i’ve been so lucky to get to work with incredible composers, but also incredible arrangers. for instance, just playing in the gil evans project for the last 15 years, where every single concert is like getting a lifetime worth of lessons on arranging and orchestration, is a gift. to me, that process is almost as rewarding as the compositional process. that’s another thing that i like about revisiting works is it allows me to flex my arranger’s muscles, as opposed to just always focusing on coming up with new original compositions.” on music is connection, keberle and his catharsis crew (camila meza on guitar and vocals, jorge roeder on acoustic bass, eric doob on drums) revisit “key adjustment,” a tune they had previous recorded on their 2013 debut album, music is emotion. like many of the tunes on the new album, it showcases kerberle’s use of intricate unison and harmony lines between voice, guitar and trombone. “it’s an unexplored sound for me,” he said. “and even though i’ve been working with camila for almost a decade, she did vocals only on her first two catharsis albums (2014’s into the zone and 2016’s azul infinito), mainly because the band originally was chordless. that was the hallmark sound of the band in its early years. but camila’s just such an incredible player that it made sense to involve her guitar on the next two recordings (2017’s find the common, shine a light and 2019’s the hope i hold). she has so much to say on the guitar that we started leaning more and more into it.” meza’s guitar presence is prominent throughout music is connection, whether she’s comping and arpeggiating or providing some slightly distortion laced solos on “throwback moves,” “shine” and “hammersparks.” it’s a different quality from the cleaner, almost jim hall like sound of her own previous outings as a leader. the guitarist also delivers some moving vocal performances on “lo único que tango,” a tune by iconic chilean singer songwriter victor jara that she recorded on her 2013 album, prisma, as well as on a soulful reading of milton nascimento’s “vera cruz.” and though keberle’s considerable trombone chops may be prominently featured, his keyboard comping (on wurlitzer electric piano) throughout music is connection is key. “i feel totally comfortable and at home playing keyboard but i would never call myself a jazz pianist, because that’s not something that i actively studied or practiced,” he said. “jazz piano is mainly about the improvised solos on the instrument, and that’s not something that i would do. there’s thousands of people out there doing it at such a high level that i don’t feel like i have something to contribute there. but i do genuinely feel like i have something to contribute as an accompanist and as a comping device. that’s what this album’s all about. it’s about communicating. and as an accompanying is an idealistic form of communication.” db ​this year’s namm show is scheduled to go on as planned jan. 21 25 at the anaheim convention center in southern california. in response to the wildfires that continue to burn in areas of southern california, the national association of music merchants has announced that this year’s namm show is still on. in addition, the namm foundation has committed $50,000 to its l.a. wildfires relief fund and is accepting additional contributions. “yesterday, we visited the anaheim convention center and confirmed firsthand with city officials that there is no impact on their services or air quality, and we can proceed with a safe and healthy show for all attendees,” said john mlynczak, namm president and ceo, in a statement released jan. 14. this year’s namm show is scheduled to take place jan. 21 25 in anaheim, california, some 60 miles southeast of the region most affected by recent wildfires. “we continue to stay in close contact with our namm members and partners in los angeles, including those impacted by the wildfires,” mlynczak reported. “we are coordinating relief efforts with namm members in l.a. while they all prepare to exhibit at the namm show next week.” the namm foundation’s l.a. wildfires relief fund will provide needs based assistance to namm members, employees of namm member companies, music education programs and music makers impacted by the fires. the foundation plans to coordinate relief centers throughout the namm show in partnership with namm member companies and their foundations. “namm is first and foremost an association that cares deeply for our members and the global music products industry,” mlynczak stressed. “this year, the namm show will demonstrate our industry’s commitment by uniting as a community in support of those impacted in los angeles. as we gather next week to network, learn and promote the products that drive music making worldwide, we will focus our efforts on how we as an industry come together to support those communities affected by the wildfires.” to read namm’s official statement, click here. db “the hymns are at the core of my musical self,” says pianist tord gustavsen. “they are my ‘standards’ as a european ‘jazz’ musician.” ecm records has long enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with norwegian jazz. the tradition dates back to its early years in the 1970s, when ecm put saxophonist jan garbarek, bassist arild andersen, guitarist terje rypdal and others on the international jazz map. decades later, new waves of notable norwegians emerged through the ecm portal, a list including arve henriksen, trygve seim, matthias eick and pianist tord gustavsen, whose 21 year relationship with the label has yielded uncommonly fruitful and quantifiably successful results. a dogmatically melodic and meditative pianist, gustavsen has earned a vast and devoted following, both with traditional jazz audiences and listeners from the ambient and new age circles. gustavsen’s quest continues with the release of seeing, number 10 in a discography dating back to 2003’s prominent changing places album and featuring gustavsen’s sensitive trio, with bassist steiner raknes and longtime drummer jarle vespestad. the latest album serves as a glowing example of his cohesive brand of jazz steeped in introspective nordic atmosphere. in a recent interview, gustavsen touched on the underlying forces of his musical mission: “i have always felt that there is a huge paradox of forces at play in me between expressivity and elegance, both as a player and as a person   between raw emotion and cultivated form. many seem to only notice the restraint, the silence and the spaciousness, but to me, the other side of coin is just as essential in bringing about the totalities, and in forming the piano touch. “and the subtleties of interplay, in textures, rhythmic nuances, melodic ideas and counterpoint that we develop in the trio are so precious. i am deeply grateful to steinar and jarle for being on this journey with me.” gustavsen has both benefited from, and paled by comparisons to, legendary pianist keith jarrett, ecm’s flagship artist for decades. gustavsen style taps a similar vein to the more lyricism channeling aspect of jarrett’s musical voice, but doesn’t approach jarrett’s vast virtuosity   nor does the norwegian claim to have such aspirations. seeing, for instance, is partly noticeable for the dearth of actual soloing/improvisational space, leaning instead into a chamber esque character of structures subject to expansive breathing and stretching. as the pianist asserts, in his view, “every note should ideally be deeply meaningful, and every groove in deep contact with the center of the universe. the music should feel essential and deeply authentic. a ‘head’ is never played as an excuse for improvisation: melodies are cherished and interpreted with the same seriousness as a pop band would. “at the same time, every improvisation should sound like the most meaningful utterance here and now   with structure, sound textures, melodic qualities of the highest order. it’s, of course, not possible to always play the best concert of one’s life, and to never play a meaningless note. but this focus, this urge for fullness, authenticity, presence and unsweetened beauty is my guide, and the guide of the trio. “of course, the focus on melody and clarity may attract listeners not accustomed to the jazz conventions more than other idioms, but that’s never an aim in itself for us. if so, it would not have worked.” one easy measure of the pianist’s public reach comes algorithmically, in this digital age. for example: his piece “curves,” from 2018’s the other places, boasts over 17 million listens on spotify, a fairly astronomical figure by the standards of jazz marketing math. “i just realized this myself a while ago,” he says, “and was delighted and lightly surprised. i don’t how much of it comes from the specific qualities of this tune, as opposed to our other material, and how much comes from the fact that things tend to have snowball effects on digital platforms. “not to be overly modest about the qualities of the track. i do think it’s a really good composition of mine, and well played, with a soothing surface and still some subtle mystique and mildly enigmatic intricacies in form and harmony. but i think several of our other tunes could have had the same potential.” hymn like elements have long been a critical aspect of gustavsen’s musical output, linked to his upbringing, steeped in church music in the small town of hurdal, not far from oslo, where he was born in 1970. the liturgical link is especially notable on seeing, which includes a traditional norwegian church hymn (“jesus, gjør meg stille”), variations on chorales by j.s. bach and the hoary english hymn “nearer my god to thee,” along with five temperamentally compatible original pieces. gustavsen explains, “the hymns are at the core of my musical self. they are my ‘standards’ as a european ‘jazz’ musician. they lie deeper than the american songbook for me   although i have also immersed myself in that tradition.” he points to three sources of hymn based musical repertoire he draws on, directly or inspirationally: folk based norwegian church music, european chorales and spirituals and gospel music from the rich black church tradition in america. diving deeper into the subject, he comments that “the hymns are such a rich heritage, musically and spiritually. one can engage with them in so many ways: dwell in them, meditate on them, struggle with them, turn away from them, open up to them anew, converse creatively with them   or all of the above, which has been the case for me. “i am deeply grateful for my spiritual heritage, but also for the openness that has allowed me to study other religions and spiritual traditions   to play with sufi musicians and be open to their poetry, read buddhist scripture and basically be blessed with moving into an integral christianity that embraces everything, yet still feels rooted, and transcends the confusion of post modern nihilistic relativism.” closing out seeing is the tune “seattle song,” so named because of its spontaneous birth during a sound check in that city. the muse strikes in sometimes unexpected times and places. “i cherish these moments,” gustavsen says, “and try to honor them with making a simple phone recording and going back to it to see if there was perhaps something there worth going further with. “it’s precious to play with musicians that every night give me fresh perspectives, real presence, and inspiring responses to my ideas   both during sound check and in concert.” looking toward future endeavors, gustavsen plans to explore with his trio and other ensemble settings and delve into side projects alongside former collaborators. the list includes vocalists simin tander and mahsa vahdat, choirs, saxophonists trygve seim and tore brunborg and trumpeter arve henriksen, partnerships he says “enrich the totality in substantial ways.” the component parts of his artistic whole add up to a creative continuum, more about the journey than specific destinations or “arrival” points. “every day involves feelings of both arrival and departure,” he says. “but i am definitely not at a place of summing up or concluding. what we do these days, includes traces of all phases of the band’s life and all the twists and turns in my own development. but it’s just as much a new point of departure, with the interplay developing all the time, new compositions being added.” db charles lloyd’s sangam featuring zakir hussain and eric harland will perform at this year’s big ears festival. knoxville, tennessee’s big ears festival has announced the daily schedule for its 12th edition, which runs march 27 30 in downtown knoxville. featuring nearly 200 concerts spread across 14 venues, plus films, conversations, exhibitions, workshops and interactive experiences, the genre defying festival remains an iconic gathering of many of the world’s most influential and visionary musical creators. alongside the day by day schedule announcement, big ears has announced the additions of the improvising electronica outfit darkside, charles lloyd’s sangam (featuring zakir hussain and eric harland) and the knoxville symphony orchestra, who will perform a special program that includes rhapsody in blue reimagined featuring pianist lara downes along with tyshawn sorey’s 2024 pulitzer prize winning work adagio (for wadada leo smith) with special guests to be announced. in addition, a limited allotment of single day passes   both general admission and premier   are available alongside remaining four day weekend passes. to view the full festival lineup by day and to purchase passes, click here. db the blue note jazz festival kicks off the upcoming hollywood bowl season on june 14. the blue note jazz club is expanding to los angeles, bringing the reputation of its renowned new york flagship to the heart of l.a.’s dynamic music scene. designed specifically for los angeles, the new venue will offer an intimate atmosphere paired with programming similar to its new york counterpart’s: world class jazz performances from celebrated icons, rising stars and genre defying collaborations that reflect the evolution of jazz. the new club is set to open its doors in march. located on sunset boulevard in hollywood, the new venue boasts two performance spaces: a main showroom with a 200 person capacity as well as secondary “b side” room with a 100 person capacity. there will be a full service kitchen and beverage menu, open for brunches and dinner throughout the week. “we are excited to bring the blue note experience to los angeles, offering the same intimate atmosphere and world class performances that have defined our new york club,” says tsion bensusan, coo of blue note entertainment group. in addition to the new venue, blue note and the la phil confirm a partnership for the newly named blue note jazz festival   formerly the storied hollywood bowl jazz festival   beginning the upcoming hollywood bowl season. presented by the la phil, the 2025 edition of the festival kicks off on june 14 at the iconic hollywood bowl. this partnership reflects a shared commitment by both organizations to supporting and showcasing jazz artists. the full lineup will be announced on feb. 18 alongside the complete hollywood bowl 2025 season announcement. tickets will go on sale in may at this link. “we are thrilled to join forces with blue note to launch the blue note jazz festival at the hollywood bowl,” said la phil president and ceo kim noltemy. “this partnership represents a shared dedication to celebrating jazz and its extraordinary artists while continuing the legacy of world class music at the bowl. together, we look forward to creating an unforgettable experience for jazz lovers in los angeles.” “this collaboration represents a powerful union of two iconic institutions dedicated to celebrating jazz and its profound impact on music and culture,” said steven bensusan, president of blue note entertainment group. blue note los angeles also continues the venue’s partnership with robert glasper to host and curate performances that showcase his mastery at the intersection of jazz, r&b and hip hop. in 2018, glasper and blue note launched the annual residency robtober, which has become a global destination and notable launchpad for some of glasper’s most exceptional recent work. the initial partnership has since grown to include cross continental events that have included the blue note jazz festival napa, blue note at sea and the black radio experience. “i’m honored to partner up with blue note once again for what will be a significant cultural intersection for the los angeles community,” said glasper. “los angeles has always been a second home to me, and i can’t wait to bring l.a. culture to the blue note.” db bruce finkelman (left) and craig golden of 16 on center, an ambitious enterprise that oversees multiple chicago area venues. “do you have the midas touch?” downbeat asked craig golden, partner with bruce finkelman of the remarkably successful 16 on center enterprise, which oversees such chicago area venues as space (evanston), thalia hall, the salt shed, the promontory and the empty bottle. “i haven’t heard that one before,” responded golden over the phone, with the type of self effacing humor that brought finkelman and him together in the early ’90s. finkelman, proprietor of the grungy but invincible empty bottle in chicago’s humboldt park neighborhood, had then sought cross pollination between his eclectic music booking and golden’s comedy club interests. golden had gigged as a guitarist, but the lackadaisical, inattentive dives he’d played offered little beyond the band beer comp, if there was one. (his subsequent venues all have green rooms   some even with shower and laundry service   plus an upfront booking policy.) disenchanted, he took advantage of his wood refinishing skills and pivoted to general contractor work, then real estate. finkelman floundered as a fledgling guitarist himself, performing a single live show he describes as “the scariest experience of my life, and i was so drunk. the world told me it wasn’t to be.” regardless, both remain music lovers and much of their care in building and curating comes from ground zero. “my first job was at a joint in missouri, the blue note,” recalled finkelman. “from sweeping floors i worked my way sideways. the place was a playground of sight, sound and senses. witnessing artists and community sharing ideas, that created my blueprint.” he took that ideal to the unprepossessing empty bottle in 1993, which had been bumped two blocks up from its first location on western avenue, since finkelman had dared host a music night to the landlord’s summary affirmative: “no more!” “the friendly inn was the original name,” recalled finkelman, though it was affectionately known as the bucket o’blood. “for years ken vandermark and john corbett ran festivals of improvised music, and bottle centric artists run through the 16oc landscape.” count rob mazurek, jeff parker, the late peter brötzmann and dutch improvisers available jelly as bottle alumni. golden’s legacy project is space in evanston, a state of the art venue initially launched as a studio (hence extensive sound dampening, the live room built on a separate pad that doesn’t vibrate with the rest of the concrete floor, doors designed not to leak sound). telescoping back to teenage days experiencing artists at amazing grace, a legendary long gone evanston venue a few blocks south, golden wanted an intimate space. “i remember being in the music there, really feeling les mccann, or whoever, emote, so i wanted a thrust stage, not just bandstand as fourth wall scenario,” commented craig, “so it’s not a loud nightclub. the quiet resonates. you can hear what’s between the notes.” with that said, one of golden’s partners at the venue is blues guitarist dave specter, who, though he shares the ethos “shredding is for cabbages,” knows audiences expect their chicago blues loud and proud. “we upgraded our sound system during the pandemic and recently our front of house console. we’re also very proud of our house backline, which ranks among the best in the country,” claimed specter. space’s davis inman is part of a highly effective team that includes 16oc director of music jake samuels, brent heyl and fellow talent buyers jake austen at the promontory and bobby ramirez at thalia hall. “we’re all in regular communication about shows, the various teams congregate weekly or bi weekly to strategize,” inman said. the fact that space and the promontory are 19 miles apart means that exclusivity clauses aren’t a big deal. “we once had kermit ruffins with his rebirth brass band at space and promontory; maceo parker and ramsey lewis, too, and hope to book sun ra orchestra at both locations in the future.” some of inman’s favorite 2024 bookings included christian mcbride’s ursa major, julian lage and don was’ pan detroit ensemble. samuels has also booked 20 plus gigs this year at northwestern university’s cahn auditorium under the canopy of “space presents,” and, along with their popular annual “out of space” festival, a new folk music event attracting 5,000 fans a day has been a smash. the 900 plus capacity thalia hall, a chicago landmark in the historic pilsen neighborhood, is a prime example of the firm’s adaptive re use policy. a romanesque revival theater from 1892, modeled after a prague opera house, it had fallen into cobwebbed neglect until 16oc took over. now firmly established as one of the premier music rooms in chicago, thalia recently hosted a rare visit from hermeto pascoal and co ordinated a vast orchestra conducted by arthur verocai. “we have a lot of fun putting together jazz programs here,” said ramirez. “a big advantage with thalia hall is that we’ve accumulated a diverse audience across genres, so we’re a bridge of sorts between different musical communities. we love helping newer jazz acts expand their reach to folk that may not have found them as quickly, and we’re honored when a legacy act plays with us and connects with a new community.” where space had been a long defunct clothing store, before that a harley davidson showroom, hyde park’s the promontory was a bankrupt borders bookstore, sleekly reimagined as a bi level 600 person capacity, 150 seat, customizable event space and restaurant, with veranda, that caters to the south side’s hip hop and r&b scenes, as well as choice jazz, which golden would like to see more of. “we don’t believe in force feeding anybody, we generally book what we think the audience wants and what we can get behind to present,” he said, confessing he grew up reading downbeat rather than rolling stone. one of 16oc’s joys is “farm teaming” talent across venues, watching a band that might kick off their career at the bottle, progress through their 150 , 250 , 1,000 plus volume spaces (the flaming lips, a case in point). the newest of these and the most breathtaking is the 100,000 square foot entertainment supercenter   a collaboration between 16oc, blue star properties, r2 and skydeck   that is the salt shed, a west town concert venue that can accommodate up to 5,500 outside and 3,500 under its iconic white roof. pandemic induced stalling of the world allowed finkelman and golden to ruminate on how, or why, they would rehab morton’s corroded industrial monolith. “covid slowed us down, we thought we might be out of our minds, since we’d all soon be dead anyway,” golden laughed grimly, but when the stewards of the shed brainstormed with the visionary twosome, it was meant to be. as photographer sandy steinbrecher notes in her stunning book chronicling the reconstruction, the salt shed, they found partners “specializing in the meticulous restoration of historic buildings, known for creating distinctive, beautiful spaces for music and food.” this blue collar cultural cathedral built on pillars of steel and sodium chloride hosted local jazzman makaya mccraven (known for successful appearances at thalia hall) and londoners sons of kemet and nubya garcia on opening night in february 2023. rather than swivel to the next project with an eye for maximal profit, 16oc, to quote passages in steinbrecher’s book, prioritize “fostering a sense of belonging” and “sustaining the soul of the city.” enhancements are underway for the shed (the three top cocktail lounge already opened and a boat dock and brewpub will launch in march) and space (the historical acronym, now seldom used, stands for society for the preservation of arts and culture in evanston) will soon double in size. “we’re adding a swanky new lobby,” said golden, “and a nice outdoor event space for another 250 people with a 40 seat restaurant patio, front and back. the hope is to revive evenings out shortened by pandemic days and the dissipation of after show crowds, and book jazz trios, 10.30 p.m. to 1 a.m., for nighthawks like us.” db saxophonist luka zabric and trumpeter kuba kurek perform during the 21st edition of jazztopad. wrocław is not one of poland’s more popular tourist destinations. but it’s a historically important city, one of its annual highlights being a sprawling christmas market. this usually opens during the jazztopad festival (which puns on listopad, the polish word for november), but this year they must have heard about our improvising invasion, as the market’s debut was cautiously delayed until post festival time. this was the 21st edition of jazztopad, so it’s now part of the tradition, even while retaining strong streaks of adventure into free jazz and moderne composition team ups. jazztopad also exists in an annual summer nyc form, bringing its concepts across the atlantic, spread around a selection of key venues. the 10 day wrocław feast, which ran nov. 15 24, is divided into large scale concerts in the architecturally looming nfm (national forum of music), where jazztopad is created, but it also sends tendrils out into private homes for its afternoon living room concerts, as well as venturing down into the basement of the nearby mleczarnia, a bar and café for denizens of the deep night. in the nfm, there are also a pair of smaller spaces to complement its main concert hall. all atmospheres are covered. artistic director piotr turkiewicz has a very firm vision of the festival strategy, with these ongoing musical strands appearing each year. a key feature is the presence of collaborative premieres with the new music ensembles of the nfm, its philharmonic orchestra and the lutosławski quartet. on opening night, the los angeles born drummer denardo coleman (in golden olive suit) presented an interpretation of his father ornette’s 1959 album the shape of jazz to come, with a band that included trumpeter ambrose akinmusire, saxophonist isaiah collier, pianist craig taborn, bassist brad jones and incongruous guitarist jakob bro, along with the nfm philharmonic. the collective creation didn’t actually sound much like the original album, aside from the unavoidably distinctive “lonely woman,” but ornette would probably have enjoyed such a diversion. the orchestra provided lavish nestling colorations, but the wiry squirming was largely left to akinmusire and collier, their soloing operating at a less energized level when compared to the heights found within their own bands. abstract trumpet flurries blew into group free playing, alternating with tonal embellishments from the nfm ranks, where cyclic horn figures flourished in the orchestral lagoon. ethereal gloom and morbidity were present in the busy clarinet foregrounding, dark oboe also creeping forth, vibraphone scampering. coleman set up a strong pulse, with a george russell aura, as bro’s guitar sounded like a tired synth. down in that mleczarnia basement den, the ever inspiring sundogs trio led the nightly improvising sessions. it was here that collier truly flared up, sitting at the drums, with mateusz rybicki on bass clarinet, over the slow bounce of stuttering traps. collier loaded snare and cymbals with a rattlesnake attack. then he hoisted his tenor for a rabid cross pollination with rybicki’s clarinet, before he too chose tenor for some hyperactive low toned interaction. in the end, the piece almost became like unto terry riley’s “in c,” as taborn, akinmusire and jones also came onstage. such are the heady pleasures and soft meditations of a 1 a.m. “jam” set. the other two masterful sundogs are zbigniew kozera (bass/guimbri) and samuel hall (an australian drummer living in berlin). the excellent cast of polish players included trumpeter kuba kurek and saxophonist matylda gerber, the latter bringing her alto instead of baritone, opening up a whole new area of her style. newcomer local violinist julia stein was ubiquitous, varied and highly engaged. the stateside presence continued a week later with the fast ascending poet aja monet and her jazzed up trio, playing on the “reversed stage” of the main hall. even though active for some time, monet’s collaborative work with musicians has arrived quite recently. although adopting a “mysterious” mien, complete with shades and insularity, she periodically fills herself with outgoing humor during her poem song introductions, communicating with the audience in a different fashion. although most of her poems dissect serious matters, monet presents them with a knowing sense of multiple layering. the players stuck to a fairly straight jazz backing, not intending to distract from the words, which were always clearly audible. even native english language speakers need to listen carefully to monet’s limber flow, so this would have been even more demanding for the polish locals, despite their typically high english speaking standards. “weathering” had keyboardist javier santiago playing trumpet with one hand, and then monet suggested that we can “shame the devil” during “the devil you know.” once again, jazztopad’s satellite situations revealed players in a different light, where santiago, micah collier (bass) and justin brown (drums) delivered more riled up free form expressions, uninhibited by their word supporting roles. this was particularly evident during the living room apartment sessions. jumping back to the first weekend, the necks also played on the reversed stage, this veteran australian improvising trio accustomed to approaching from a stance of repetition, enhancement and gradual development. their only other soft rule is that each set flows for around one hour. they don’t know where they’re heading, but they do know the approximate duration. a gentle faintness slipped forth, with light mallet touches on the drums, dapples of watercolor piano and a slowly pivoting bowed bass. reflective and mournful, with a vaguely south african feel to the piano, the melody of the first set turned into a pulse, the bass making soft scything strokes, stick and brushwork increasing the shimmer. the second set was even better, with a moondog medieval lilt to the piano, along with twitchy hand drumming with recurrent shaker. a firm bass core gathered the threesome closer, under an intense blue light. the intimate interactions continued throughout the week down in mleczarnia with luka zabric & the gatherers, a new find from slovenia. zabric is a careful, precise technician on alto saxophone, sourcing a deep well of personalized expression, maintaining a high, clear purity during his incremental investigations, more lee konitz than isaiah collier, almost never upping the curve to explosive. subtle unified group pronouncements uncoiled, rising up from a sparse palette, with sensitized pocket trumpet, bass and drums, eventually peaking with a lightly romping tune well suited to a wedding held in an alleyway. always inquiring, zabric further revealed his abilities for hyper aware collaboration over the coming days, in the apartments and the basement. we will be hearing more of his work, as his global significance will certainly grow. sun mi hong & alistair payne played a mostly improvised set in mleczarnia the following day. this percussionist and trumpeter pair hail from south korea and scotland, but arrived from amsterdam. the stark exposure and initial simplicity opened up a wild ride through multiple phases, as payne vocalized through his horn and sun mi rambled hard, a dusty emission here, a well landed mallet there. the deep bass drum was rationed out, as payne introduced monk snatches, which turned into a buzzed ambient drone section. sun mi clattered metal to the floor, going into a more condensed jazz zone. following this set, the “jam” opened with mat maneri on aggressively exciting amped viola, as the monet bass drums team jumped up, going for a gritty and herculean style. then came kris davis on keyboards, sundog rybicki on clarinet and payne returning for an uppity solo. one more night downstairs, we had the north american invasion of françois houle (clarinet) and gordon grdina (acoustic guitar and oud), jousting lightly at length, revealing a tensed, diaphanous nature, highly worked out in its capering flow. there was so much more happening besides, with engaging sets from saagara (a dynamic polish indian electro carnatic fusion group), linda fredriksson’s juniper (finland), michael bates and kris davis each playing with the lutosławski quartet, maneri with the french bassist sarah murcia, and melting pot, a mixed countries improvising group freshly assembled each year for a mini tour around the selecting clubs and festivals. jazztopad retains massive energies of creativity, sometimes from noon until as late as 5 a.m., providing the supreme example of sustained excitement or reflection. db ​ravi coltrane will lead “impressions: improvisatory interpretations on a love supreme” on jan. 12 at roulette intermedium. this year’s winter jazzfest will present two major events during its jan. 9 15 run at various venues across new york city, including an evening of music celebrating the 60th anniversary of saxophonist john coltrane’s iconic album a love supreme and a special concert honoring the groundbreaking legacy of strata east records. leading “impressions: improvisatory interpretations on a love supreme” on jan. 12 at roulette intermedium in brooklyn will be saxophonist ravi coltrane, son of the legendary john coltrane, performing alongside his quartet featuring david virelles (piano), jeff “tain” watts (drums) and dezron douglas (bass). they will be followed by guest improvisers continuing the themes of a love supreme in five separate ensemble sections. the improvisers include allison miller, angelica sanchez, ben williams, james brandon lewis, joel ross, kalia vandever, kassa overall, kenny warren, linda may han oh, mali obomsawin, melissa aldana, nasheet waits, orrin evans, rafiq bhatia, sam newsome, theon cross and tomoki sanders. recorded in 1964 and released in 1965, a love supreme stands as a monumental achievement in jazz history. coltrane’s spiritual and musical exploration on the album continues to resonate with audiences and inspire musicians worldwide. the jan. 12 event promises to be a unique and powerful tribute to this enduring masterpiece. the evening will begin with a pre show panel discussion moderated by ashley kahn at 6:30 p.m., followed by ravi coltrane’s quartet performance at 8 p.m. the concert will conclude with five unique improvisational sets featuring the all star lineup of guest artists. “strata east rising concert: a tribute to the landmark jazz label” will bring together two bands on jan. 13 at the independent new york venue lpr to reimagine some of the imprint’s most iconic works. featuring a star studded lineup of original strata east artists charles tolliver, cecil mcbee, billy harper, billy hart and george cables, the show will also highlight the talents of steve jordan, christian mcbride, aja monet, endea owens, keyon harrold, camille thurman & darrell green, victor gould and more. co founded by charles tolliver and stanley cowell in 1971, and known for its diy spirit and ties to black liberation politics, strata east gave artists the freedom to create on their terms, producing landmark albums by legends like tolliver, cowell, the heath brothers, clifford jordan, max roach, gil scott heron and pharoah sanders, among many others. curated by marcus j. moore, brice rosenbloom and ched tolliver, the concert aims to reflect the ethos of strata east: music that inspires listeners to push boundaries, embrace hope and lean into life even during challenging times. the program will pay homage to the visionaries who shaped strata east, including: • honoring stanley cowell and clifford jordan, featuring selections from glass bead games, music inc, musa ancestral streams solo piano, regeneration and a possible multi piano piece inspired by the piano choir. tolliver said, “we’ll definitely honor stanley as the co founder of the label alongside me.” • special performances: they will perform tracks from mutima with cecil mcbee, and the evening will include a tribute to bill lee with music from the lee family recordings. • spotlight on emerging talent: tolliver’s influence extends to a new generation of jazz stars, including keyon harrold, camille thurman, darrell green and victor gould. “there’s so much great material to revisit and new projects in the works,” tolliver said. the concert is intended to be a testament to strata east’s profound cultural and sociopolitical significance, born in an era of radical change and unwavering artistic vision. for ticket information, and to view a full schedule of the 2025 nyc winter jazz fest, click here. db “with jazz i thought it must be ok to be black, for the first time,” says singer sofia jernberg. on musho (intakt), her recent duo album with pianist alexander hawkins, singer sofia jernberg interprets traditional songs from ethiopia, the nation where she was born, and sweden, the nation where she grew up, along with tunes from armenia and england, to say nothing of the piece she wrote herself. the recording stands as one of the most arresting albums of 2024, in part because despite drawing on disparate folk traditions from around the globe, it elides any specific culture. while hawkins and jernberg deeply respect those traditions, they’re no more confined by them than they are by the jazz practices for which they’re both well known. jernberg, 41, has spent her entire life navigating disparate cultures not only in her work, but in her very existence. she was born in ethiopia but was adopted and raised by a swedish diplomat. before jernberg moved to stockholm at age 10, she spent years also living in hanoi, vietnam. “i’m a bit split in my identity because i’m adopted and raised in a majority white culture, but i look like i was raised in something else,” she says. “i’ve always been treated like that by everybody.” until she arrived in sweden, jernberg had virtually no contact with western music. she had always sung informally, picking up sounds from the folk music she encountered as a young child, so once in stockholm she was enrolled in a strict choir school where she was immersed in western classical tradition, singing standard repertoire as well as the contemporary classical works composed by some of her teachers. eventually one of the teachers played a song by stevie wonder in one of her classes and her curiosity was piqued. “i started to ask questions,” she says. she began exploring record shops and immersed in any new sound she could find. she had already been experimenting with different techniques inherent in various traditional musics, but the possibilities expanded after encounters with the music of daring vocalists like phil minton and diamanda galas. “with jazz i thought it must be ok to be black, for the first time,” she says. “that’s one of the things, but i also fell in love with it because it was a progressive genre. that’s how i interpreted it, that it constantly changes. all the heroes had an oeuvre, so you could follow how they started and how they ended up.” while still in school she encountered harsh dichotomies. “music genres are very connected to cultural identity, and what class you’re from, how you want to feel and dress.” jernberg embraced music in all of its rich variety, but early on she felt isolated with those feelings. “i’m always a displaced person in any situation. i have not met anyone who is like me, who’s seen three continents before they were 10, adopted, and raised by a single mother.” jernberg has resisted societal pressures since she began singing, and her multilayered work blithely ignores genre lines. she’s a world class improviser with extravagant technique and a peerless classical singer with unerring pitch control and technical precision. she sings with chamber ensembles and modern jazz groups. during jazzfest saalfelden last august she performed an improvised duet with cellist tomeka reid, she sang as an equal member of the end, a hard hitting band led by reedist mats gustafsson straddling hard rock and scandinavian folk music, and she paired up with saxophonist jonas kullhammar as the front line in petter eldh’s post koma. her voice is marked by a crystalline purity that can sound lighter than air, mirroring the weightless beauty of minnie ripperton, and she can tackle 20th century classical works by arnold schoenberg or georges apherghis with devastating exactitude and imagination. jernberg rejects hierarchies or compartmentalization, taking on a dizzying range of work on its own terms, often to the detriment of her career in a business that prefers defining and slotting artists into this box or that one. she first emerged on the international scene with paavo, a shape shifting ensemble she co led with pianist cecilia persson, before joining seval, a quartet organized by american cellist fred lonberg holm that interpreted his pop like compositions with a wide open improvisational aesthetic. because of her inherent stylistic mobility, jernberg often operates like a free agent, with countless collaborations and a handful of ongoing projects like the end, which has made three albums over the last six years, and the duo with hawkins which began in 2016 with a partnership suggested by former bimhuis director huub van riel during the october meeting gathering, during which she also first performed with swedish bassist petter eldh, who has regularly enlisted her in his bands koma saxo and post koma. she’s worked with the norwegian trio lama on a 2018 collaborative album for clean feed, collaborated with german free improv duo superimpose, and she delved into her connection to scandinavian folk on a remarkable project with the trondheim jazz orchestra in 2019. it was through the tjo that she also cemented a partnership with the equally mobile pianist cory smythe, leading to the shape shifting 2018 trio album circulate susanna (pyroclastic) with guitarist dan lippel   a daring, skeptical look at americana using stephen foster as a point of departure. although jernberg isn’t averse to singing songs, she prefers to think of herself as an instrumentalist first and foremost. she laments the divide between singers and instrumentalists she’s experienced across her entire career. “i have worked a lot with how you stand on stage,” she says. “what i’ve done is just take away all hand movements and expressive movements, because often they’re cliche, and it takes away from music.” performing with both the end and post koma, jernberg deliberately situates herself as another member of the ensemble, not the focal point as with most singers. jernberg is also a composer, although evidence of this work is woefully scant. there’s a version of her mutable solo work “one pitch: birds for distortion and mouth synthesizers” on a 2021 anthology of performances from new york’s resonant bodies festival, and her song “correct behaviour” is a highlight of the musho album. a solo album of her own work, which she spent eight years making, is on the near horizon, as are some u.s. performances in the near year. in april she will perform music by composer chaya czernowin at the la philharmonic and in may she’ll perform solo at the park avenue armory in new york, as part of a series curated by pianist jason moran. she pointedly notes that the u.s. has dealt with multiculturalism for longer than europe. “i’m often the first black person in some contemporary western stages in europe,” she says. “classical music really has problems. it is an authoritarian structure, and i’m always a little bit messed up afterwards. but, someone has to do it.” db trombonist ryan porter, left, with saxophonist kamasi washington at last summer’s hollywood bowl jazz festival. on a warm summer night at the annual hollywood bowl jazz festival, where nearly 18,000 people packed onto the benches of the historic los angeles based amphitheater for nearly 16 hours of music over two days, saxophonist kamasi washington took the stage with his father and some of his closest childhood friends, better known collectively as the west coast get down. featured among the pyrotechnical solos by washington, thundercat, cameron graves and brandon coleman was a loping, short form cyclical ballad by trombonist ryan porter, who composed that tune for the soundtrack to a documentary about his life that would premiere at the regent in downtown l.a. just a few days later. the film, resilience: the story of ryan porter (the variety group), rightfully portrays porter as a generationally successful artist, particularly in 2022, when he found himself performing at the highest of high profile shows, from the talk shows of jimmys fallon and kimmel, to the oscars and grammys, to backing up eminem, snoop dog and dr. dre at the super bowl halftime show held that year in inglewood, mere miles from where he grew up. but the film also points to the challenges porter has faced, including a life altering illness and being homeless, inconceivably at the very same time his career was at an all time high. the day before the premiere, porter and filmmaker marquell byrd met at a popular breakfast spot by the ocean in playa del rey to speak with downbeat about the film. porter had yet to see the final cut, opting to wait until the premiere. “i wanna know what happens to ryan!” he joked. but the humble brass man wanted to talk more about those who helped him and his friends along the way: his trombone teacher, george bohannon, his high school teacher, fernando pullum, and the most important mentor in his life, reggie andrews (whose enduring comments before his death nearly two years ago are memorialized in this documentary). “that’s kind of what this is,” porter said, “knowing what that looks like when that happens. thundercat is what that looks like, kamasi is what that looks like   they’ve had that community, that village. i just want to kind of give those people their roses, that hopefully inspires people to give back in the ways that they can. truly that’s what i feel is the message of this documentary.” porter first met washington as a teenager, at jazzamerica, the los angeles youth program founded by buddy collette, the famous reed player who hailed from watts. they both were eventually recruited by andrews, a saxophonist and session musician who started an after school jazz band at locke high school in watts, from which came some notable artists in the annuls of l.a. folklore: patrice rushen, ndugu chancler, gerald albright, rickey minor, the hip hop group the pharcyde and even actor tyrese gibson. andrews would add to that esteemed list porter, washington, graves, ronald and steven “thundercat” bruner, and terrace martin, among others. “reggie would come pick all the kids up and take us over to locke on tuesdays and thursdays,” porter recalled. “he would pick us up and drop us all off in his van and buy us mcdonald’s or whatever we wanted afterward.” andrews’ example is inspiring to byrd, who had organized music engineering and production workshops for inner city youth in new york before relocating with his wife back to her hometown of compton in 2018 to start an arts organization together there. “my organization, color compton, our whole thing is using art as a tool to understand our history,” byrd explained. porter was the only respondent to a call from byrd for musicians to shoot a video about l.a.’s central avenue jazz festival. after that initial interview, byrd realized porter would make an excellent subject for a short film. he planned on releasing an 8 minute video back in 2022, but the hard drive it was on crashed, and the project was put on hold while the contents were being recovered. by the time they got around to finishing the film, they were able to add more than 40 minutes of additional interviews and concert footage (including porter’s appearance with washington at the bowl just a few days prior). “you know that saying, god works in mysterious ways,” said byrd. “everything happens for a reason, because now we have a solid rip.” there are many poignant moments in the film, as when porter talks about moving to new york to attend manhattan school of music, how he struggled to survive compared to the other students there who hailed from more advantageous socioeconomic backgrounds. but there were brighter moments   porter recounted to downbeat that he spent time in new york with two of his heroes, j.j. johnson (“he was my michael jordan”) and roy hargrove. porter remembers going to johnson’s house, where the master trombonist told him he gleaned his melodic approach from transcribing a lot of lester young. it was while in school at msm that porter discovered he had ulcerative colitis, a debilitating digestive tract illness that remained with him as he moved back from new york to l.a., continuing to worsen even as his career was taking off. in 2019, porter had to undergo the extreme remedy of surgery to remove his colon. the very next year, covid essentially eliminated all forms of live performance income for musicians, forcing porter into poverty and homelessness, exacerbated by his medical condition. one particularly heartbreaking clip shows porter driving around the neighborhood of mar vista, pointing out where he would park his car to sleep for the night. he did this even after a performance at the hollywood bowl back in 2022. “my worst fear was that i would be burned alive in my car,” he tells the camera. at the premiere, during a q&a session with porter and byrd, a woman raised her hand. it was porter’s own sister, tearfully telling him she had no idea he was homeless then, and she would have gladly let him stay with her had she known. porter (who has since found a home in playa vista, near the ocean and the breakfast spot where we met) told her and the audience, “the thing with that situation is that it’s so humiliating, you don’t want anyone else to know.” byrd admires porter for nevertheless revealing his story in such a public fashion. “i think just being transparent and open to being able to share this information is knowledge,” he said. “when i was growing up, there were so many things that i didn’t have access to, resources to be able to do certain things, whereas someone like ryan, knowing that he traveled the world, [saying], ‘i was [from] the community, yes i’ve been able to do this, and you can too. i’m standing right in front of you and i’m teaching. … i’m giving you the steps and tools to be successful in this area.’” porter now teaches jazz to at risk youths in a community center run by his former teacher, fernando pullum. “i give free lessons for the after school program,” he said. “i get the chance to learn how to work with kids … and they get the opportunity to learn how to play an instrument. it’s crazy to see that, to see myself in them, so i understand people like reggie and fernando a little bit more. that’s really what i feel like primarily the documentary is about: being the beneficiary of somebody who did that for me, and now it’s my turn.” porter’s last album, the soundtrack to resilience, is bookended with his first, the optimist, released in 2018 but recorded a decade earlier. porter titled his album after the sentiment he felt regarding barack obama’s successful presidential campaign. “it was a very nostalgic time,” he offered astutely, given all that’s happened to the country and in his own life since then. is ryan porter still an optimist? “it’s a choice you make. there’s peaks and valleys, and to really be optimistic, sometimes it’s challenging in the midst of this whole thing.” porter witnessed how his idols succumbed to their struggles, johnson with his health and hargrove with his addiction. “i knew he was doing drugs, and i was just devastated,” he said of hargrove. “you don’t have to touch the fire to know it’s hot.” porter continued, “i have guidelines for myself, so i guess it’s just not losing those. it was the optimism of believing in you being you. you don’t have to be like roy hargrove or snoop dog, or j.j. johnson. in l.a., you get influenced, especially as a young person growing up in the inner city, vibing with sometimes the wrong people. … so, luckily, i had friends and people like reggie andrews. all the teenagers that were in the program with us, probably including myself, we had luggage, you know what i’m saying, starting off. that’s what makes the importance of reggie changing the trajectory. he would say, ‘you know you want to change. i don’t want to tell you just not to use drugs   let me show you what else to do.’ i feel like that’s a good place to be, that’s what i want to do. it’s not every kid, but i’ve changed a lot of lives so far.” no wonder, given porter’s gift to them: the example of resilience and optimism in his own life. db wayne horvitz contributed a seven night celebration of butch morris, sun ra and julius hemphill during seattle’s earshot jazz festival. the 36th edition of seattle’s earshot jazz festival offered a two track collaboration that harkened back to its exuberant early days. in 1990, keyboardist wayne horvitz, who had just moved to town, helped earshot create the international creative music orchestra, featuring horvitz mentor butch morris, conrad and johannes bauer, rova, andrew cyrille and others. last fall, horvitz contributed a seven night celebration of morris, sun ra and julius hemphill called “what’s going on: conduction, improvisation and the culture of structure” that spotlighted local as well as visiting artists, nicely complementing earshot’s two and half week series, which ran oct. 17 nov. 3. earshot executive director john gilbreath, 76, has been involved with earshot since that first 1990 collaboration. it was fitting that he announced his retirement just as earshot was highlighting its enduring focus on creative collaboration and local music. “it’s been an incredible run,” said gilbreath, adding that a succession plan had been on the table since 2018, before covid rudely interrupted it. during a search for new leadership, arts consultant meriça whitehall will serve as interim director. gilbreath went out with a bang: a panorama of terrific shows in venues all over town, including the wayne shorter tribute band, violinist jenny scheinman, seattle raised trumpeter riley mulherkar, pianist myra melford’s fire and water, belgium’s flat earth society orchestra, seattle artists bill anschell (piano), festival artist in residence skerik (saxophone) and pianist vijay iyer. mark turner bravely stepped into wayne shorter’s shoes with the late saxophonist’s erstwhile bandmates danilo perez (piano), john patitucci (bass) and brian blade (drums) for a set at town hall of almost unbearable tension, shattered by explosive releases. patitucci was on fire. scheinman played at horvitz’s cozy south end club, the royal room, in a band with former seattle pianist carmen staaf, applying a light touch, supple fiddler’s arm and transcendent relationship with the natural world to a generous set of seemingly egoless ensemble music. welcomed warmly as a hometown hero made good to langston (seattle’s black arts center), mulherkar offered a focused brace of tunes from his enthusiastically received debut album as a leader, riley. at the town hall forum melford, who also has seattle roots, created hypnotic, mythical spaces quivering with intention, with her all star band fire and water featuring tomeka reid (cello), ingrid laubrock (reeds), mary halvorson (guitar) and fierce newcomer lesley mok (drums). belgium’s 15 piece flat earth society filled the same room with cartoonish jollity buoyed by virtuoso chops, a theatrical mashup of sun ra and willem breuker. downtown, at benaroya hall’s nordstrom recital hall, iyer’s stunning trio recital with drummer jeremy dutton and bassist linda may han oh lifted the festival to its pinnacle. thunderous and muscular, yet with a bell like tone, iyer integrated the long lines and internationally inspired scales that initially inspired him with earthy jazz and blues feeling. seattleites got some love, too. at seattle center’s alhadeff studio, bill anschell, with jeff johnson (bass) and d’vonne lewis (drums), played a standards set showcasing a spontaneity and relaxed elasticity of form that favorably recalled ahmad jamal. skerik added soulful zest to several what’s going on ensembles and gave his tender, lyrical side some space in a group featuring three quarters of the once popular seattle quartet, industrial revelation. what’s going on unfolded at the royal room. the festival within a festival brilliantly illuminated the idiosyncratic and innovative ways morris, hemphill and sun ra created structure around free improvisation. it featured several morris inspired “conductions”   ensemble music consisting of written or improvised material cued from the podium. sharing the helm with seattle modern orchestra co leader julia tai, horvitz kicked off the series with his hauntingly beautiful “188 sullivan” (appropriately inspired by the historic meeting of improvisor charlie parker and composer edgard varèse). hemphill’s “one atmosphere and string quartet” sparkled with a taunting, playground spirit; horvitz’s “worst planet yet,” composed of sun ra elements, fell playfully in and out of raggedy swing. seattle trumpeter stephanie richards led the most impressive conduction, a totally improvised piece that gelled remarkably in real time. reed man and hemphill archivist marty ehrlich’s exposition of hemphill’s dogon, a.d. brought out its strength, elegance and tumbling exuberance while also treating the crowd to rare insights about the music. in a large ensemble conduction nodding to cecil taylor, pianist robin holcomb (married to horvitz) happily reminded listeners of her free jazz roots. another exhilarating hemphill set featured a phalanx of six saxophones in a relentless barrage of groove, blues and skronk; yet another, also drawn from sun ra, conjured ra’s interplanetary soul to the room. the final concert featured a smashing rendition of morris’ gorgeous album dust to dust. db “we as humans are adapting to machinery and technology that we created,” says prieto, adding that the results are mixed, at best. back in the prehistoric era of music, before the internet and digital age, roughly from the late 1940s to the late 1970s, music genres had a distinct regional flavor, often tied to specific recording studios. think of the swampy southern rock of muscle shoals or the laid back laurel canyon sound of shangri la, westlake sound city and henson recording studios   and, of course, the legendary motown of detroit. these regional styles were shaped by the unique talents and creativity of countless inventive composers and equally skilled studio musicians. to a lesser extent, this same trend was reflected in the west coast versus east coast styles of jazz, then hip hop. growing up as a drummer in the southern states during the 1970s and tuning into am pop radio, it was a cinch to spot the guitar work of duane allman, or the drumming of bernard purdie or steve gadd. their unique styles were so distinctive and powerful that they stood out in any mix, no matter who was singing lead. unfortunately, those days of instantly recognizable musicians in popular music seem to be a thing of the past. on his latest album, 3 sides of the coin (dafnison), drummer, composer and frost school of music professor dafnis prieto grapples with the pressures of being a jazz musician amid corporate radio algorithms and shrinking attention spans, a phenomenon exacerbated by the rapid evolution and pervasive influence of artificial intelligence. three compositions from prieto’s new album, “humanoid,” “funky humanoid” and “alba,” demonstrate the influence of ai and its potentially disastrous outcomes for musicians. “i hate to be judgmental because i try to respect people’s enthusiasm about what they think music is,” prieto explained. “but people now can use a sampler to assemble samples and beats, and they call themselves musicians. they’re very successful, more than the ones that originally created that content. so it’s very confusing and just leads to regulations in the creative realm, especially for those that are doing it honestly. there are always people that are dishonest, but when regulations come down, they come down for everyone.” like writer martin amis warned about the impersonality of mass media, the grammy winning, macarthur fellowship awarded prieto foresees a looming battle for music content creators, wondering if ai tools, for example, could easily replace his image even in his iconic drum solos online. “this is what’s going to happen because there won’t be any identification of who’s who, right?” prieto asks. “the only reason we have a charlie parker is because there is one charlie parker. if we have a thousand, it wouldn’t be a charlie parker. i’m not against the enthusiasm of dealing and creating with it, but the manipulation of content is just massive. they’ve started creating regulations, but the elephant is already in the room.” while 3 sides of the coin addresses subjects as varied as the people and culture of his native cuba (“caprichos cubanos”), the duality of interwoven themes and perception (“two sides of the coin”), the artistry of charlie parker (“the happiest boy in town”) and his cuban childhood (“conga ingenua”), in his truly inimitable fashion, prieto’s ai alerting compositions remain arresting. joined by his sí o sí quartet of peter apfelbaum on woodwinds, martin bejerano on piano and ricky rodríguez on electric bass, prieto performs his odd metered, odd grouping, often metrically modulating compositions rife with native rhythms that are equally festive and bold. though he loves bach, brahms, debussy, stravinsky, ravel and bartók, there’s no denying the indigenous fire in the pulse of prieto’s music. the clanging electric bass and funky drums of “humanoid” recall a glitch treatise in metric exhilaration; “funky humanoid” buffets 4/4 commentary with angular accents, cyclical melodies and pointed improvisation; “alba” relates the story of a genetically modified green rabbit. these songs could form a soundtrack to a collective loss of human control, and its consequences. “alba was a genetically modified ‘glowing’ rabbit created as an artistic work by contemporary artist eduardo kac, produced in collaboration with french geneticist louis marie houdebine,” according to an online encyclopedia. “alba cost millions of dollars to create,” prieto noted. “they injected alba’s cells into the embryo of the rabbit’s mom. then alba came out green and glowed in the dark. then alba died. on one side (referring to the coin analogy) i feel curiosity. it’s fascinating but very uncomfortable that this could happen, yet it’s also kind of tricky, misleading and cruel. i wanted a beautiful melody, but a weird one. so in a way, the song is peaceful, with some alterations, which is what happened with alba.” while younger musicians often chase the ephemeral rewards of social media, prieto, like a literary scholar delving into a forgotten text, immerses himself in the works of musical giants like bartók, even visiting his home/museum in budapest. “you see the piano that he wrote on, and even a leftover cigarette,” prieto recalled. “you see the megaphone that he used to listen to music and, his scores, clothing, all these things in his house. when i looked at his piano, i felt this spiritual cocoon, the physical place where he lived and worked. it’s a reminder of how much creation is tied to who you are with your own sense of imagination. and that feeling of being in a place where i didn’t feel any stress. it’s an intimate place.” the album’s title, 3 sides of the coin, draws from prieto’s study of psychology. “it’s about seeing that extra side, the different points of view of one thing,” prieto explains. “people have a tendency to say, ‘ok, this is good or this is bad.’ so it’s very bilateral in a way. often times people are good and bad at the same time.” this brings our conversation back to ai: where it’s heading, who’s running it and the end result. “we as humans are adapting to machinery and technology that we created,” prieto says. “there are more restrictions and much more manipulation by technology. we have become a slave of our own doing.” after teaching at nyu for 10 years, prieto arrived at the frost school of music in 2015, calling it home ever since. he instructs a wide variety of students in different disciplines, and while he feels there are many great young players at frost, his concern for these young musicians’ future is palpable. “i’m just realistic,”he says. “i’m seeing the reality in front of me and experiencing it. often when online, i feel like i have only two choices, the choices that they give to me, not the choices that i want. this kind of manipulation happens in politics, it happens in every industry, including the music industry. you see kids who become superstars after appearing on a tv show. you wonder, where did this person come from and who did they play with? you remember that phrase that people used to say, ‘paying your dues?’ that doesn’t exist anymore. “the consequences of being honest are very high,” prieto adds. “society is polluted with so many images, you don’t know what’s real. it’s the same with fake news; things have lost so much credibility. the more honest you are, the higher the price you pay for the consequences.” db “it was so mysterious and intriguing,” ian faquini says of the music of guinga. from left, natalie cressman, faquini and guinga. in the past five years, composers natalie cressman and ian faquini have issued multiple duo releases, unveiling a sound that centers on intimacy, bell tone resonance and unexpected harmonic movement. informed by a variety of brazilian traditions, including bossa nova and baião, their music transmits subtleties of joy and longing. but years before they began playing together   cressman on trombone and vocals, faquini on guitar   separately and at different moments, they shared an experience that would bond their artistry and alter their lives. with the release of guinga (groundup), cressman and faquini pay homage to its namesake, recording alongside the legendary brazilian guitarist and composer who has inspired the development of their expression over many years, and whose sound, when first they heard it, changed the course of their careers. “from the first few chords, it just changed my life,” says faquini. “the melodies are so beautiful and singable,” adds cressman, “but the more you try and sing it the more you realize how complex it is without trying to be cerebral. everything he does is very felt from this inner source.” a serendipitous series of events led to the artists booking a studio date with guinga   beginning years earlier among the redwoods of northern california. during sessions at brazil camp, where the duo met, they each heard guinga perform live for the first time. “it was so mysterious and intriguing,” says faquini, who’s served the camp as an instructor for 15 years. “that first week [hearing it] i was already dreaming about it.” inspired by guinga’s energy, and the rich, delicate harmonies of his songs, faquini, a native of brazil, who had grown up “a rocker,” shifted his focus. by the end of that week, he was helping guinga demonstrate a complex song to the other students. “it wasn’t that i was that great of a guitar player,” he says. “it just got me in such a way that was natural for me.” for cressman, the moment served as both a turning point and an affirmation. back then, she’d been feeling a bit ungrounded, unsure of which direction she should take her music. then, all at once, she knew: “i heard him play and thought, ‘wow, this is so beautiful and so unique and so intensely different’ from the music i was playing and listening to.” that reaction quickly bonded with guinga’s acceptance of what cressman describes as the “gentle, more emotive side” of her expression, a side for which she’d spent her early career trying to compensate. “for the projects i was playing with, that i played softer felt like a bad thing,” she says. “i was trying to have this persona of being louder and have this more testosterone driven, high octane music. and [guinga] made me feel like it was ok to dig in to what was really most natural to me, which is this other side of the trombone that doesn’t get explored a lot.” before calling guinga for the session, cressman and faquini nurtured the idea of recording with their mentor for some time. in spring 2023, they began contemplating their next duo project. they’d been working on some original material, but nothing close to a finished album. “i was like, ‘well, we’ve been talking about recording guinga’s music for a long time,’” says cressman, “‘and he’s going to be here this summer.’” originally intending to record some of the project in brazil, cressman and faquini found guinga’s busy tour schedule prohibitive. instead, they found a studio a half hour drive from brazil camp that had an opening the first two days after guinga completed his teaching term. “it literally couldn’t have worked out any better,” says cressman. the two spent that summer practicing repertoire together, choosing songs and working through arrangements. “during brazil camp, ian would meet up with guinga and sing through and work out the stuff that he was going to participate on,” says cressman. they recorded the album in less than three days. “we made a lot of decisions just by playing and seeing what felt right, adding a song or a section,” says faquini. “it was very natural.” one of the more poignant moments on the record was entirely unplanned. “it was kind of early in the day when we recorded ‘segredo de dadá’ and guinga was like, ‘no, those notes are too high for me. natalie, come sing these phrases.’ and it ended up becoming a duet just out of what made sense in the moment.” but for all the moments of alignment, the artists experienced moments of anguish as well. their first day in the studio was the day cressman and faquini’s dear friend and fellow artist james casey died. “that was a surprising curveball,” says cressman. “we were all thinking about james, and i was definitely crying between takes. but it was easier than i thought to convert the emotion that i was feeling and focus on the music. we were still able to have moments of joy recording, even with that hanging over us. but i was able to move forward putting the sadness into my intentions.” with nerves already fraying, logistics took a hit when faquini tested positive for covid on day two. “luckily, the studio was really nice,” he says. “either i would stand outside in the trees and listen in my headphones, or i would stay in my isolation booth, but i wasn’t able to come into the control booth the whole time.” somehow, the artists willed the roadblocks to fall away and their grief to guide them through the music. they leaned into doleful melodies, arpeggiating shapes and syncopated lyrics   and focused on their mentor’s presence in the studio. “there’s a word in portuguese that they say is untranslatable, but the closest thing would be ‘longing,’” says faquini, “and it’s a word we use all the time called saudade. that sentiment is in most of the great sentimental brazilian music and art, and definitely in guinga’s music.” db “sassy awards” winner april may webb performs at this year’s finals. as part of njpac’s td james moody jazz festival, the new jersey performing arts center (njpac) in newark named april may webb as the winner of the 13th annual sarah vaughan international jazz vocal competition on nov. 25. hosted by wbgo radio’s sheila anderson, the “sassy awards” presented the top five finalists on the iconic njpac stage in front of a live audience and a distinguished panel of judges that included drummer, producer and educator terri lyne carrington; bill charlap, pianist and director of jazz studies at william patterson university; powerhouse vocalist lisa fischer; bassist christian mcbride, njpac’s jazz advisor; and acclaimed singer songwriter madeleine peyroux. pulled from 220 plus entrants from 21 different countries, the five finalists represent the next generation of jazz vocalists. ultimately, it was webb who received the top honor and a $5,000 cash award. webb is originally from kansas and currently calls connecticut home. a musician, composer, educator and co founder of the jazz ensemble sounds of a&r, she is a 2023 chamber music america grant recipient and 2023 jazz road artist, and has toured with thelonious sphere monk iii. she was selected by nea jazz master dee dee bridgewater as a woodshed network recipient, and she took center stage in tschabalala self’s new york play sounding board. webb made history as the first black woman to graduate from the william paterson university jazz education program. audiences can catch her performing at dizzy’s coca cola club at jazz at lincoln center in manhattan during an engagement booked for spring 2025. second place honors and $1,500 prize went to syndee winters, a los angeles based singer known for her role as “nala” in disney’s the lion king on broadway. third place and a prize of $500 was awarded to oberlin alumna georgia heers from south carolina. rounding out the top five finalists was amira b of new york city and angélique nicolas of france. the sarah vaughan international jazz vocal competition is open to singers over the age of 18, of all genders and nationalities, from anywhere in the world, who are not signed by a major label. entrants are judged on vocal quality, musicality, technique, performance, individuality, artistic interpretation and ability to swing. db charlton singleton of band ranky tanky performed in the the soraya’s jazz club in january. the $125 million younes and soraya nazarian center for the performing arts on the california state university, northridge (csun) campus has become a jazz destination for performers and southern californian audience members alike since its opening in 2011. “we’re very excited about where we’ve landed in the jazz world, meaning artists’ interest in performing here,” said thor steingraber, the soraya’s executive and artistic director, when queried about the performing arts center’s rapid rise in the region’s jazz ecosystem. “justin (souza), who’s our head of programming, invests a lot of time in his relationships with both the artists and their representation. those artists include everyone from the jazz at lincoln center orchestra, herb alpert & lani hall and charles lloyd to jon batiste, melissa aldana and vijay iyer. headliners can be booked in the 1,700 seat hall or, as of 2018, the 220 seat pop up on stage venue. “to be honest, people pick up the phone when the hollywood bowl or monterey jazz festival calls, obviously. but a venue like ours, it takes a little more effort to gain interest and to inspire engagement,” steingraber said during a phone interview with downbeat. “we’ve been doing it for a long time now, and all of the representatives and artists that we work with understand our seriousness in this area and what that has amounted to. so we get a lot of calls now.” the soraya also offers familiar classical, dance, americana and global music bookings that one would expect to enjoy at a performing arts center. “we have the most extensive spanish language series in southern california. and our jazz performances are becoming a really significant part of our identity,” steingraber noted. now in its fourth year, the annual jazz at naz winter festival features notable musicians in both soraya settings. running this year feb. 1 20, it will feature performers such as kurt elling celebrating weather report with the yellowjackets and special guest peter erskine on feb.15, and chucho valdès and arturo sandoval celebrating irakere with special guest cimafunk on feb. 20, both in the main hall. lakecia benjamin & phoenix (feb. 5 6) and christian mcbride & ursa major (feb. 7 8) will perform in the jazz club. “when i came in 2014, i was thinking, ‘you know what? we’re missing a whole segment of the jazz world.’ you don’t want to put a new jazz artist on a stage with 1,700 seats,” steingraber said. “and you don’t want to put most trios in that setting. so much of jazz happens in a smaller, more intimate setting. “so it took us a while to figure out the logistics of converting our stage into a jazz club a couple times a year,” he continued. “we do that by lowering the curtain and putting 220 seats on the stage turned sideways and then building a little platform stage on the end of that end of that space and creating a black box that’s literally a club.” acoustic and lighting considerations were worked out over a two year period, as was fire marshal code adherence. amir elsaffar inaugurated the venue within a venue in april 2018, and the concept has been refined from there. “since then, we’ve made it look a little fancier,” steingraber said. “we’ve added full meal service and an open bar.” patrons can order a pre concert dinner catered by chef jim bonanno from the nearby humble bee bakery & cafe. steingraber sees the soraya’s mission on the jazz side as one to help grow the audience while giving musicians a top shelf performance experience. “you get to a certain age in your life where you’re less likely to go to a club,” he observed. “our audience wants a really nice parking space and large, clean bathrooms. and some of them need accommodations for walkers or wheelchairs. they come here because we have all of those accommodations.” with 36,000 undergraduate and graduate students, csun has future concertgoers embedded on campus, according to steingraber. “that’s a new generation of jazz audiences who literally walk from their class or their dorm to come to a concert,” he pointed out, noting that there are the existing patrons who attend other types of events. “perhaps someone came for a mariachi performance, and they’re interested in cuba’s adjacency to their own culture. so they check out chucho because they’re already familiar with the setting,” he hypothesized. “suddenly you’re reaching into audiences of other affinities and backgrounds and introducing them to jazz.” then there’s the decidedly 21st century approach to reaching existing jazz fans and growing new ones: “we livestream our whole festival, and we know that’s part of what’s building our new audience,” he said, referencing soraya’s paid digital subscription series. “and i love that we get to do a ‘pre game’ and a ‘half time’ and a ‘post game.’” steingraber and drummer reggie quinerly are co hosts, interviewing the bandleader during intermission and chatting between themselves before and afterwards. delfeayo marsalis, in discussing his experience as a guest artist at the soraya, said he wholly supports this approach. “any way that you can keep up with what’s going on in the modern times, it’s always a good idea,” said the trombonist/composer, who led his uptown jazz orchestra at the soraya last february. “if you look at the tennis channel, they weren’t doing analysis before the success of the tnt halftime show. now, whenever there’s a major tournament, they have analysts giving their different perspectives. “i think that’s a great idea to give people insights,” he continued by phone from a gate at louis armstrong new orleans international airport. “and it’s always a good idea to have different perspectives of what’s going on.” “we get a lot of feedback that that is what’s helping instill curiosity and confidence,” steingraber said. “and it takes those two things to become a patron of any art form: curiosity and confidence. with confidence, you feel you know just enough to not feel like a stranger in the room.” appreciative of local clubs and other presenters producing jazz concerts, steingraber said he’s ultimately grateful to be able to provide an institutional jazz anchor northwest of downtown los angeles. “this isn’t a competition,” he concluded. “this is a community.” db “watching people like max roach or elvin jones and seeing how they utilize the whole drum kit in a very rhythmic and melodic way and how they stretched time   that was a huge inspiration to me,” hussain said in downbeat. tabla master ustad zakir hussain, one of india’s reigning cultural ambassadors and a revered figure worldwide renowned for his joyful and captivating virtuosity, died on dec. 15 in a san francisco hospital from complications of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a rare lung disease that causes progressive scarring of the lungs. he was 73. according to the times of india, hussain was hospitalized for two weeks and later moved to intensive care as his condition worsened. his manager nirmala bachani said in a statement that hussain had been battling blood pressure related problems. hussain’s profound influence over five decades helped shape world music, most notably through his 50 year partnership with guitarist john mclaughlin in their groundbreaking east west group shakti, which won a 2024 grammy award for best global music album for their 2023 release, this moment. the tabla maestro also won two other honors at the 66th grammy awards ceremony in the best global music performance and best contemporary instrumental album categories for his collaboration with edgar meyer, béla fleck and rakesh chaurasia on as we speak. other significant collaborations over his illustrious career came with the grateful dead’s mickey hart on his planet drum project, bassist bill laswell on his tabla beat science project and a host of recordings with prominent jazz musicians, including saxophonists john handy (1975’s karuna surprise and 1976’s hard work) and pharoah sanders (1998’s save our children), guitarist pat martino (1998 fire dance), keyboardist joe zawinul (2002’s faces & places), saxophonist charles lloyd (2006’s sangram and 2022’s trios: sacred thread) and bassist dave holland and saxophonist chris potter, collective known as the crosscurrents trio (2019’s good hope). hussain was also a member of yo yo ma’s silk road ensemble and guested on albums by george harrison (1973’s living in a material world), van morrison (1979’s into the music), jack bruce (1990’s a question of time), the kronos quartet (2000’s caravan) and on two electric miles davis tribute recordings by guitarist henry kaiser and trumpeter wadada leo smith (2002’s sky garden and 2004’s upriver). hussain also led masters of percussion, a long running group he formed in 1996 and continued touring with up until the time of his death (in fact, he had bookings with the group already slated for 2025). as a composer, he scored music for numerous feature films and also composed four concertos that saw premieres in india, europe and united states (by the national symphony orchestra at the kennedy center). born march 9, 1951, in bombay, maharashtra, india, hussain was the foremost disciple of his famous father, legendary tabla master ustad allah rahka. a child prodigy, he began working professionally by age 12, when he began performing concerts of north indian classical music in his native country. as a teenager, hussain accompanied his father on a tour of the united states with pandit ravi shankar, which culminated with a stunning performance at the monterey pop festival in san francisco in june 1967. three years later, hussain and mclaughlin met for the first time at a music store in new york’s greenwich village called the house of musical traditions. “zakir and i met there during the summer of 1970,” mclaughlin recalled in a 2023 downbeat interview. “i knew the people there and i used to go there to check out the sitars and tambouras and other indian instruments. and i told the proprietor, ‘if ever a great indian musician comes into the store, ask him if he would give a friend of yours a lesson; doesn’t matter what instrument.’ a few weeks later, i got a call about this great tabla player who was there and i said, ‘ask him if he’ll give me a vocal lesson.’ so i went down to this store and zakir, who was giving a rhythm workshop there, ended up giving me a vocal lesson. we just hit it off, and we really became pals.” mclaughlin and hussain first jammed together in 1972 at the bay area home of ali akbar khan (zakir was teaching at the ali akbar college of music in berkeley at the time). as the guitar great recalled, “i had never felt so instantly free and comfortable and joyful. and zakir felt it, too. we both felt it. and i think it was from that experience that shakti was born.” as hussain recalled of that pivotal experience, “we jammed and it was like we had done this before. it never felt like we had to adjust or tell each other what to do. we just started playing, and it was just so right!” their first concert together happened in 1973 at saint thomas church in midtown manhattan. “and it was at that point that john floated the idea to us for us to play together as a band and travel,” hussain recalled. “it was a very courageous decision that john made. he gave up a money making machine like the mahavishnu orchestra and put himself in this situation with shakti where there was no surety that this would survive, that this would even fly, that people would even accept it or understand what was happening. but he did it anyway.” the group’s july 5, 1975 performance at southampton college on long island was documented and later released in 1976 as shakti’s first self titled album. the group subsequently released a handful of beauty later that year followed by 1977’s natural elements before disbanding. they reformed more than 20 years later (with hussain and mclaughlin being the only members of the original band) and released a series of live albums, including 1999’s remember shakti, 2000’s the believer and 2001’s saturday night in bombay. in 2023, they released their first studio album in 46 years, the grammy winning this moment. “i’ve just been so lucky,” hussain said in a 2023 downbeat interview. “how fortunate can one be to have these friends in shakti for all these years and a relationship that spans these decades, but at the same time have a chance to be able to grow in a very deep manner and an understanding of each other’s abilities and roots and creative processes and so on. and therefore, we arrive at this juncture more enriched than when we began 50 years ago.” he added that his peerless technique on the tabla was an amalgam of styles culled from various other percussionists that he admired and worked with over the years. “my basic technique is something that i learned from my father, but i’ve also absorbed the influences of people like giovanni hildago, airto moreira, amando peraza, humza al din and so many different percussionists from all over the world who play their instruments with hands. looking at all that and trying to move all that information on to my tabla has been my goal. this melodic element of the tabla, where i play bass lines and all that stuff, is definitely not an indian thing to do. but watching people like max roach or elvin jones and seeing how they utilize the whole drum kit in a very rhythmic and melodic way and how they stretched time   that was a huge inspiration to me. or watching armando peraza use five congas, and when he took a solo the congas not only projected rhythmic patterns but also melodic ideas   that had a big impact on me. so all that information inspired me to be able to try and make the tabla talk in the same manner. and that’s changed the way the tabla is played these days. a lot of young tabla players now have adopted this approach to being able to play tabla not just thinking about it as a rhythm instrument but also a melody instrument with the possibility to express emotions.” in a statement, hussain’s family said: “his prolific work as a teacher, mentor and educator has left an indelible mark on countless musicians. he hoped to inspire the next generation to go further. he leaves behind an unparalleled legacy as a cultural ambassador and one of the greatest musicians of all time.” db “hope is important, and it always shows up in my music,” mitchell said. flutist nicole mitchell put new friends through changes for the 2024 album bamako*chicago sound system (fpe), which she co led with malian kora player ballaké sissoko. bringing together jazz improvisers with chicago ties and traditional west african singers and instrumentalists, mitchell reveled in placing experimental jazz musicians in new circumstances and getting players who represent legacies spanning centuries to improvise freely. the album’s centerpiece, the 15 minute “this moment,” embraces a host of idioms and conveys contrasting emotions concluding in euphoria, a musical statement that its creator feels is ideal for today’s condition. “some people feel we don’t deserve that level of joy because the world is so messed up,” mitchell said. “to have this good news and happy ending. some people have expressed, ‘do we deserve to have such a happy ending?’ but for me, hope is important, and it always shows up in my music. it starts in a bright place, goes to a dark place, then comes out in a different bright place.” as mitchell described such optimism from her home in north carolina, her voice conveyed a radiant inflection that echoes her music’s ebullience. she lives a few hours away from the university of virginia, where she is a professor of music. her approach to both music and teaching involves building communities. personal connections with african musicians have always been key. these ties stretch back to her beginnings as a performer when she was growing up in southern california and nigerian afrobeat percussionist najite agindotan was an early mentor. those lessons gave her insights into the techniques as well as the historical connections and dissimilarities between groups who seem to be an ocean apart. “from the very beginning, i didn’t start in the jazz context, i started in that [afrobeat] context,” mitchell said. “i was making music that was influenced by west african music, even if it was not specifically malian. and divisions between countries were made by europeans   there was a lot of relocation, migration happening over many years from different groups of people, so they were not statically in one place. that’s why you see the kora in other parts of west africa and similar aesthetics in the music.” after moving to chicago in 1990, mitchell collaborated with jazz musicians who shared her enthusiasm, including on her afrika rising album in 2002. mitchell added that she also recorded an unreleased piece, “oumou,” a tribute to the malian singer oumou sangaré. she also formed deep ties with like minded members of the association for the advancement of creative musicians. the city itself presented new opportunities for cross continental performances, including a vibrant performance in 2007 at millennium park, which brought mitchell and a host of sharp locally based improvisers together with the late kora master toumani diabaté. five years after that concert, mitchell invited sissoko to sit in during her performance at the manzoni theater in milan, italy. living outside of paris, sissoko had been partnering with musicians from all over the world and eagerly sought to continue doing so. in 2014, the french author and music promoter alexandre pierrepont invited mitchell over to work with the kora player for a residency. she arrived 10 days ahead so they could learn each other’s melodies. other chicago and malian musicians joined for a tour across france and returned in 2016. mitchell felt mutual admiration during these encounters. “to actually have a 3 d collaboration with, and making a new friend with, ballaké was great. it was a dream come true, an opportunity to also integrate my own aesthetic, chicago avant garde jazz and all of that within the music. ballaké is a very open, very caring person,” mitchell said. “he’s strong but he’s very egalitarian. that was really beautiful, there was no ego or patriarchal stuff going on. we’re making music, we’re collaborating, we’re equals, we’re just going to do this. that can’t be taken for granted working with anyone in any country.” still, mitchell added, there was a bit of a learning process. “the music i wrote, i wrote everything in c major, because i didn’t understand he could have different keys,” mitchell said. “so everything he was improvising on was in c major. i used other factors in the ensemble to create dissonance and other chords, i had marimba and tomeka reid on cello. it wasn’t that i was determining whole soundscape based on what he played. then we met, and i realized that’s not how it works. you can do anything using the chromatic scale. you can create any mode or scale you want. with a classical harp, you can change within a piece but with kora, you can’t, so you have to set up your key or scale for each piece.” the differences between playing improvised jazz (as can be heard in a city like chicago) and traditional kora music (as malians play it) have not been formidable, according to mitchell. “ballaké and i also have a duo project and there the challenge is if he’s within a particular song that i don’t know, where is it going to go and what is the harmonic going to be in the moment for me to be able to adjust? but we work it out because it’s an intuitive process, the more we play together the easier it gets. we always do some music that we’ve never done before. i’ll also bring things, and i’m less predictable where i’m going to go harmonically. that’s a fun challenge for him to figure out how to navigate that.” a bigger, and inevitable, challenge has been obtaining funding to keep the chicago*bamako project performing and recording. this includes the headaches of obtaining work visas for the international ensemble. mitchell was able to obtain grants from the macarthur foundation and 3arts organization. chicago’s world music festival and hyde park jazz festival presented a platform for the group’s compelling set in 2017. that event also proved crucial since it provided the means for mitchell, sissoko and their group to record the album. the concert also created an opportunity for mitchell to present malian musicians to an entirely new audience. “i had done so much work as a teaching artist in chicago, it was important to have these musicians meet students on the south side,” mitchell said. “these were second through fourth graders who never heard black people speaking another language and playing instruments they’d never seen before.” african american musical ideas and sounds from west africa blend throughout bamako*chicago sound system. mitchell brought in her compositions and sissoko brought in his. vocalist fatim kouyate contributed lyrics as did mitchell’s daughter aaya badue. one of mitchell’s pieces, “spicy jambalaya,” presents an imaginative vision of r&b within an open soundscape. mitchell’s own rhythmic drive ties everything together. “that piece has a lot of shifting energies,” mitchell said. “there’s some funk in it, i was thinking of it kind of like a dance piece. it represents new orleans but also a caribbean, african diasporic mixing it up. a lot of influences, not just african and european influences. our project is kind of a creole project. i thought that ‘spicy jambalaya’ was a great name for taking us on a ride, mostly through african american musical idioms and having a good time.” this combination also highlights everyone’s individual personalities, which can come across on a few crucial measures within a cross continental tapestry. one example is guitarist jeff parker’s dynamic solo alongside sissoko and balafon player fassery diabaté on “se wa kole.” “it was a fun challenge for jeff to work with another string instrument,” mitchell said. “he took on a lot of different roles, depending on what kind of piece it was. sometimes he’d be doubling with balaké, sometimes doing chords, sometimes soloing, bringing in rock, jazz, blues influences, or he’s doing jeff. he does all that.” percussionist jovia armstrong (also a university of virginia professor) is another regular participant in mitchell’s groups, and the flutist thought of her immediately. “jovia was my first choice because of her versatility, her understanding of music throughout the african diaspora and the instruments she plays while being able to play a set that’s super loud and dominating,” mitchell said. “she uses a similar set up in the mandorla awakening [from 2017]: cajon from peru and cymbals, congas and small percussion. they enjoyed giving her rhythms, giving her things to do. she finds a lot of colors throughout the album.” bassist joshua abrams has worked extensively with mitchell numerous projects, such as her black earth ensemble record hope, future and destiny from 20 years ago. along with this lengthy association, mitchell said he also brought his own thoughts about african instruments. “josh loves learning new things, he plays [moroccan] guimbri and is interested in meeting people who are playing different instruments,” mitchell said. “josh has a great sound and it resonates and blends well with these traditional instruments.” while the musicians themselves conveyed positive feelings toward each other, mitchell said that a disheartening issue arose outside of the group. she mentioned that, initially, a french person’s suggestion for the ensemble’s name reflected that country’s colonial era conceptions of africans. seeking words that were not derogatory, she turned to the late writer greg tate, who suggested bamako*chicago sound system. “we did learn and discover the big differences in how french people viewed africans versus how they viewed african americans because there’s that history,” mitchell said. “those aspects could have threatened our connection but that never got in between musicians and what we were trying to do. with this name everything is on equal footing.” mitchell’s consciousness toward any kind of social inequity comes from her own experiences. she has endured sexism as a jazz musician and prepared herself to face those who feel that contend roles in west african music belong to specific genders. these situations never arose among the members of this ensemble. “people make assumptions and assume that women are supposed to be in a certain role,” mitchell said. “i’ve had problems in the u.s. with that in jazz: asking if i’m a girlfriend when i’m in a recording studio instead of asking if i’m the bandleader. there’s enough of that anywhere in the world. the other part of that is these instruments are traditionally played by men in mali. and a lot of assumptions can be made: ‘you need to learn our music, our music has been around longer, there’s a certain royalty about it.’ there are musicians who are like that. just being open to learning to someone else’s music, some people are like, ‘i’m the master of this, i’m not going to learn anything else. i don’t need to.’ and that wasn’t what was going on. the idea of me being a composer, contributing compositions as a woman, that can be seen as ‘well, that’s nice and everything, but not on this project.’ i’ve had enough experiences being in a group where everybody is contributing music and suddenly it’s my compositions being left out in the past when i was younger. but this recording was an affirming situation.” along with bamako*chicago and mitchell’s teaching duties, she is immersed in myriad other configurations. these include iridescent with vocalist/composer christina wheeler, which mitchell described as “super outer space music” that combines blues and electronics. another group, black earth sway, presents what she called afro folk futurism. armstrong is also part of this ensemble, as is coco elysses who plays the time honored african american diddley bow while contemporary electronics are also central. while the malian acoustic musicians who are mitchell’s creative partners may not use the word “afrofuturist” to describe themselves, she said that is essential what they are all about. “they know everything and sing about it,” mitchell said. “it’s their job to maintain this history and this memory through music. that’s what being a musician is for them. for us, it’s a completely different thing. on some level being a musician in this country is an aspect of resistance. because you don’t have the kind of support from your society. it’s almost an act of resistance to even be doing it in the first place, even if it is to preserve culture. because the culture’s not being supported. to collide these ideas with each other and make a new world with each other, that is afrofuturism.” db martial solal performing at the village vanguard after his 80th birthday in 2007. martial solal, whose irrepressible wit and incomparable wizardry at the piano captivated and confounded listeners for 70 years   and who made an indelible mark in the world of film, having composed a suitably breathtaking score for director jean luc godard’s 1960 debut, breathless   died dec. 12 at the age of 97. solal, who was born in then french algeria in 1927 and emigrated to france in 1950, was one of the last survivors of the freewheeling jazz scene of post world war ii paris. by the time of his death, few remnants of that scene remained. but solal, a revered figure whose passing was announced by the french minister of culture, stood as a monument to it   active of mind and spirited to the end. in a 2018 phone conversation, solal, in less than perfect english, recalled arriving in the capital city and starting the process of establishing himself. that involved emerging from the shadow of the city’s preeminent pianist, bernard peiffer. with him, solal played four hands in the cellars of saint germain des prés. from him, solal took over as house pianist at the legendary club saint germain. after him, solal became the first call pianist for american expatriates like drummer kenny clarke before breaking out as a solo act. and what an act. fully six decades after arriving in paris, he was, at age 83, attracting overflow crowds in new york, as he did to an april 2011 duo engagement at the village vanguard. in stark contrast to the crowds at his vanguard debut   which, coming only a week after the september 11 terrorist attack a decade earlier, suffered accordingly   those who showed up for the 2011 gig, perhaps his last stateside, were a lively bunch who hung on every note with a cult like devotion. to be sure, a certain devotion was called for. whatever tune solal called   and, in one set on that 2011 date, he wove four originals into a 10 tune list bracketed by “here’s that rainy day” and “willow weep for me”   his treatments were discursive in the extreme. recognizing tunes amid solal’s dizzying twists and turns became a kind of game   one that the pianist foisted on his rapt public with a smile, even as bassist francois moutin, his duo partner and an eminently inventive player in his own right, broke a sweat keeping up. nearly five years later, saxophonist dave liebman, a master of the extemporaneous himself, had a similar experience. speaking to downbeat in 2017, he described his initial bandstand encounter with solal, at paris’ sunset sunside jazz club in december 2015: “i was thrown by his spontaneity. it’s up my alley and in jazz we’re supposed to treasure those moments, but the first time we played the two sets at the club, i was like, ‘how am i going to hang in there with this guy?’” when they met again   the following april, for a concert at château guiraud in sauternes, france, that yielded the album masters in bordeaux (sunnyside)   they were in sync. liebman found that beneath solal’s rapidly multiplying harmonic and melodic excursions was a deep, if idiosyncratic, sense of groove that he could lock into. for all solal’s digressions, his direction in the end was clear. “his timing is perfect,” liebman said, “and that was the saving grace because a lot of times i had to depend on the rhythmical aspect of turning corners. that would make you say, ‘oh, we’re going somewhere,’ because you could hear the rhythm change.” if at times solal’s excursions came off as cerebral, if they seemed to some to lean a bit too much into his almost limitless dexterity of hand and flexibility of mind, they were always delivered with intent, according to french american pianist dan tepfer, a sometime student and longtime friend of solal’s. speaking by zoom from paris in the days after solal’s death, tepfer said: “he was always respectful of form. he was never haphazard.” in an email sent after solal’s passing, his daughter, singer claudia solal, pointed to his uncompromising attitude: “he didn’t care about what people thought about his music, he was totally emancipated from all considerations of style (my opinion).” and, she added: “what mattered more than anything (except my mother and his two children) was his music.” that level of commitment, tepfer said, was reflected in the lifelong attention he paid to running scales and the like   the “dumb practice” tasks he found critical to maintaining the physical tools that enabled maximum expressivity. but for all the seriousness with which he applied himself, tepfer added, a “constant humor” suffused nearly every aspect of solal’s musical life. in tepfer’s zoom call for this interview, he displayed a video in which a bemused solal, on piano, is gamely laying down the sparest of accompaniments for the earnest vocal stylings of tepfer and saxophonist lee konitz, with whom both pianists had long and productive relationships, on a blues. in its unexpected role playing, the scene is as disorienting as any solal excursion. yet the sense of play is palpable. invariably, solal brought that sense of play to his encounters with a vast array of collaborators, from sidney bechet to stan getz, from daniel humair to jack dejohnette. the playfulness was clear in the buoyancy he brought in 1953 to the bebop inflected final recording of django reinhardt. it was as clear in his oblique rethinking of thelonious monk in a 2011 solo outing at the library of congress as in his turn of the century reworking of duke ellington with his 12 piece dodecaband. playful eccentricity attends to his writing, particularly the solo piano and duet pieces   11 etudes and ballad for 2 pianos, respectively, come to mind   that draw on 20th century western classical conventions. in a jazzier vein, the off kilter lyricism of a piece like “coming yesterday” seems destined to live on, fulfilling what his daughter posited was his greatest hope for legacy: that “young generations of musicians play his music, as they play standards.” of course, given the impact of celebrated films, solal might ultimately be remembered more for his breathless score. should that happen, the work   a characteristically fragmented affair tempered by a touch of whimsy   would represent the ultimate quirk of fate, but one solal’s ironic side might appreciate. db check out downbeat’s 2024 holiday gift guide to find something for the music lover on your shopping list. from vinyl, reissues and books to holiday music and gear for musicians, there’s something here for everyone! click here to view the complete guide. happy holidays! db “a lot of people now see me walk with a cane, and they think it’s me being hip,” orrin evans said. “but it’s a combination of me being hip and needing a cane.” pianist orrin evans wants to have a word. “i’ll be 50 in march, and i have been doing this for 30 years,” he said in a remote interview with downbeat from his hometown of philadelphia. “i’m really so glad to be on the cover, but at the same time, i’m wondering, why now?” his question is both rhetorical and loaded. evans knows that he has the musical muscle to carry a big career in jazz, the kind of career that gets industry attention. and he knows what kind of doggedness it has taken to persist in that career despite the inconstancy of that attention. his concern runs deeper than whether or not he snags the brass ring, however. it’s more about who gets to ride the merry go round in the first place. “after 30 years and now getting wider recognition   it’s a thin line between being ungrateful and a story that needs to be told,” he continued. “there are so many well known artists out there that we all love, but who can’t get booked [in certain clubs]. why not? these questions need to be brought up.” to understand evans’ chagrin, it helps to start with the breadth of his accomplishment. since 1995, the player/composer has turned out more than 30 albums as a leader, many of them on his own imprint, imani records. he’s established several long standing ensembles of various sizes, from duo to big band, and two releases by the latter   presence (2016) and the intangible between (2019)   have earned grammy nominations. he’s gigged regularly with members of the jazz topline, such as kurt rosenwinkel, kevin eubanks and the mingus big band. and, most famously, he was tapped to replace ethan iverson, a founding member of the bad plus, when that pianist left the trio in 2017. (that band was on the april 2018 cover of downbeat. evans himself moved on after three years, and the popular group has since reconfigured without a pianist.) lately he’s been especially prolific, with two launches just weeks apart this past summer. he recorded the first, the live album you think this america, with his tarbaby trio (evans, bassist eric revis and drummer nasheet waits), one of his mainstay ensembles since 2006. this is their first recording as just a trio; each of the previous four releases featured collaboration with prominent guest artists, like altoist oliver lake and trumpeter ambrose akinmusire. with or without guests, however, the group coalesces around a larger notion, suggested by its moniker. taken from an uncle remus fable, the trio’s name alludes to br’er rabbit’s struggles to extricate himself from a ruse dummy made of tar, with all of the discomfiting connotations attributed to the original story. this allusion is intentional, evans asserts, providing as it does an apt metaphor for the “sticky discussions” about race in the united states today. “with tarbaby, we are adhering to, and being connected to, all of the things that we see as important to represent this music,” he said. “it’s great if you hear bebop in our music, or post bop or avant garde. it’s great if you hear all these things. tarbaby is about embracing all elements of the music.” he goes on to point out the richness and variety of the black american musical sources on the new album, which includes a bouncy, sometimes jangly version of “dee dee” alongside a somberly conversational “comme il faut,” both by ornette coleman; a tenderly romantic take on the stylistics’ hit “betcha by golly wow” (by linda creed and thom bell); and evans’ own “red door,” flush with irrepressible vigor, and “blues (when it comes),” a happy, improvisational jaunt. one doesn’t have to listen for too long to comprehend the group’s orientation toward the fable: it isn’t the menace of the trap that matters, but br’er rabbit’s clever escape and subsequent exhilaration at finding freedom. one can infer a similar message of resilience from evans’ second 2024 album, walk a mile in my shoe, recorded with his captain black big band and released via imani in august. this album’s title refers to the neurofibromatosis that has affected evans since birth; the congenital neurological condition hindered his ability to walk and required several surgeries to remedy. through this ongoing experience, evans has developed an understanding of the value of tenacity in facing down a problem   a lesson that he brings to his career. as always, he talks about it with humor. “a lot of people now see me walk with a cane, and they think it’s me being hip. but it’s a combination of me being hip and needing a cane,” he said. “it’s also a story i have really never told, and i got to tell that story through the record.” evans formed the captain black big band in 2009, now at 11 chairs from its original 17. it’s this smaller group that earned the recent grammy nominations, for records released via smoke sessions. (the ensemble had a long standing monday night gig at that famed new york jazz club.) this time out, though, evans brought four vocalists into the fold, each an extraordinary talent   lisa fischer, bilal, joanna pascale and paul jost   along with trumpeter nicholas payton and organist jesse fischer. true to its philly roots, evans’ large ensemble occupies a more soulful space than do most jazz big bands. listen to fischer’s gorgeous back phrasing against the group’s subtle pulse on “overjoyed”; bilal’s deft vocal interpolations over the shifting tempi on “save the children”; jost’s throaty growls in response to the band’s improvisations on “dislocation blues” (with fleet fingered soloing by jesse fischer); pascal’s feeling glides on the more traditional “sunday in new york”; and payton’s delicate, whispery intro on “all that i am,” the album’s opener. throughout, the ensemble skillfully navigates these tight grooves and earthy feels in a clear challenge to any preexisting ideas of what a big band can do. “it’s one of the most fluid big bands out there, and by that i mean we’re able to go wherever we need to go,” evans said. “we have a tribute to charlie parker in our book, a tribute to monk, a tribute to sun ra. there are so many ways that this band can go.” besides these two successful releases, evans has another pair of albums teed up for launch in 2025. he will return to tarbaby and its guest format on an as yet untitled studio album highlighting the contributions of spoken word artist ursula rucker and saxophonists bill mchenry and jd allen. and he will release even now (imani), the debut album from his brazilian quintet terreno común, a newer venture formed during the pandemic (with vocalist alexia bomtempo, bassist luques curtis, drummer clarence penn and guitarist leandro pellegrino). by most measures, such output is remarkable. this point is not lost on evans, who is quick to stress that his concerns about the state of the jazz business today do not stem from bitterness. rather, they reflect his testimony, as a de facto elder in that world, to a shift in how today’s young musicians come up. “when i first moved to new york [in 1993], the thing was, ‘let’s get a record deal through this label.’ ‘let’s go on the road with this artist.’ ‘i want to meet betty carter.’ ‘i want to meet art blakey.’ all of those things were happening. i was catching the tail end of that then. now, getting a teaching spot is the new record deal. these teachers are great, and i’m one of them. but what’s happening in the streets has drastically changed. “[today we have] a world of bastard jazz children floating around. these are the artists that don’t need or seek out the attention and support of older musicians. when i came to new york, my phone was ringing almost every morning with a call from hamiet bluiett, just to tell me about a new record or song we were going to try. we kept ourselves surrounded by the elders of this music. that isn’t happening in new york now.” to be fair, evans stands in a rare spot for a jazz musician. he’s from a transitional generation of players, those old enough to benefit from both the street   the community surrounding the originators of black american music, with its oral tradition and hands on learning   and the university system, with its genre codification and related aesthetic guardrails. (evans trained under kenny barron at rutgers university, where he now teaches.) from this straddling perch, evans can perhaps more readily observe the contrasting values of freeform creativity and standardized excellence at the center of these competing musical environments. it’s an uneasy marriage, though, and he feels the rub even in the way we talk about the music. “i’m not a fan of the word jazz all the time, because i think the word is limiting,” he said. “it comes with a lot of assumptions and implications. “[for instance], i’m amazed at how many people have come up to me and said, ‘who’s lisa fischer?’ we’re talking about somebody who has jumped all over between genres, from touring with the rolling stones, to doing her own trio, to doing her own [grammy winning] music in the ’90s. she’s done so much music, but there’s a big, long line of people who don’t know her because someone put a title on what she does. “i say we need to talk about it differently moving forward. it’s not that i don’t like the word ‘jazz.’ it’s that i don’t like what people think it is. so i say, let’s just reshape this. let’s call our music what we want to call it. and even if we don’t change the name of it, let’s not put boundaries on ourselves.” the same limiting understanding that the language implies seems to run all throughout the jazz world, evans holds, from the clubs to the labels to the media to education. what such limitations mean is that some of the most hard working, creative musicians   the very sort who resist easy classification   are going to get overlooked. to the extent that he is one of these overlooked musicians, evans seems bothered. but as one who’s found a way to do music on his own terms? not at all. in this context, evans’ contributions as an entrepreneurial musician take on added significance. foundational to this effort is the imani records label, a joint undertaking with his wife, singer dawn warren evans. founded in 2001, the label began as a vehicle for evans’ own recording projects, but over the years, as his influence as a bandleader and producer has grown, so has the number of artists the label represents. notably, even as a label owner, evans’ approach to artist representation is about freedom of expression. “imani is more of a collective   we all work together to help each other. it’s not just my wife and i,” he said. “our goal is to put out products that the artist really wants to stand by and not just what the label wants. i’ve been on record labels for years, and it’s been about branding the label and not the artist. that’s one of the things i’ve been enjoying with imani. watching each artist come in with their vision, and i sit there and say, ‘ok.’” under the auspices of his label, evans has also managed to expand his creative reach into a wealth of related endeavors. he began hosting a weekly jam session with players from the label to give local musicians a chance to test their mettle alongside established instrumentalists like revis and waits. he started club patio, a live streamed concert series, during the pandemic, with support from like minded musicians such as christian mcbride, jeff “tain” watts, buster williams and the late russell malone. and when the pandemic ended, he oversaw the evolution of club patio into imani records club patio jazz day, a larger outdoor jazz festival with two stages and 11 ensembles this year. evans plans to make this an annual event. beyond these endeavors, evans works closely, and seemingly indefatigably, with other regional festivals. consider that in september, after the close of club patio jazz day, he set off for the pittsburgh international jazz festival on the jazz train   a seven hour ride via amtrak from new york to pittsburgh featuring live jazz performances, with evans leading. then, once in the steel city, he joined the captain black big band on stage for a set. the next day he was in mexico to kick off a west coast tour with tarbaby. evans also serves on the board for the exit zero jazz festival, a twice yearly event in cape may, new jersey. this october the imani records all stars   a revolving, ad hoc group from the label’s roster   claimed several spots in the festival’s fall lineup. this festival also supports an adjacent organization, the heart of jazz, a nonprofit that furthers jazz education through scholarship and performance opportunities. evans sits on its board of this organization, too. it’s hard to imagine that evans could take on more, but that’s his intention. he’d love to start a jazz camp, he says. and to own a jazz club. and for sure he’s starting a podcast, where he can address some of the music related issues that cause him concern. “we were never taught about our spheres of influence and how to promote our music,” he explained. “so now, the biggest thing for me is to adjust the way that we’re thinking. and that has to be in the position of education, by creating an energy and an environment for some of the other stories that you don’t normally hear. “so, my way to change the impression of what this music is would be as a gatekeeper. to be involved in how this information is being portrayed to the students, so that we don’t just keep it in the schools. we need to help the students out by putting them on stages, because we’re not out in the street anymore. we’re in the schools, so we need to bring the street inside.” and the way to bring the street inside, if evans has his druthers, would be to fling open the gate to the many beloved artists who stand just beyond the realm of mainstream attention. “we need to remember that we’re not a bastard jazz society,” he said. “we need to keep our fathers and mothers in the music. we’ve lost so many. we’ve lost geri allen, but joanne brackeen is still here. we’ve lost john stubblefield, but george cables is still here. eddie henderson is still here. kenny barron is still here. we need to create those connections so that we see both worlds together. both are important   the new and the old.” db queen latifah extols harlem and the apollo theater at this year’s kennedy center honors. ​kamasi washington with wife ami taf ra. the saxophonist is the kennedy center’s current master artist in residence. cuban american jazz trumpet legend arturo sandoval and harlem’s apollo theater were among the honorees at the 2024 kennedy center honors, presented dec. 8 in washington, d.c., and recorded for television broadcast later this month. the ceremony, held at the kennedy center’s opera house, was attended by president and mrs. biden, vice president harris and doug emhoff, and an impressive array of celebrity participants and past honorees, as well as this year’s guests of honor (who also included blues rock artist bonnie raitt, jam rock trailblazers the grateful dead and filmmaker francis ford coppola). the tribute for 75 year old sandoval   second in the program, following raitt   began with a short film called why the trumpet? narrated by wynton marsalis. (the film was partly about sandoval and his upbringing on the outskirts of havana but primarily focused on the power of his instrument.) when it ended, actor andy garcia took the stage to give a heartfelt and very funny speech about his jazz playing friend. “i learned a lot from arturo,” he said. “like that i could play with him   if i brought his band sandwiches.” garcia then yielded the floor to a 17 piece band featuring vocalist cimafunk, trumpeter randy brecker, percussionist pedrito martinez and pianist chucho valdes (who cofounded the innovative cuban jazz funk rock band irakere with sandoval), performing irakere’s signature song “bacalao con pan.” they were followed by trumpet star chris botti, who offered a piano accompanied rendition of charlie chaplin’s “smile” (with an unidentified pianist). garcia then returned to describe sandoval’s accomplishments after defecting to the united states in 1990. “i’ve got to go and get the band their sandwiches now,” he finished   but not before introducing dancer director producer debbie allen, who reminisced about collaborating with sandoval on the 1996 ballet pepito’s story. for all this, however, the highlight of the tribute came from sandoval himself. the kennedy center showed a film of an earlier reception for the honorees at the u.s. state department; when sandoval’s turn came, he brought his trumpet to the stage for a beautiful, clear, flourish laden solo performance of “god bless america.” jazz was also a key component of the tribute given the apollo theater, the 125th street venue in new york’s harlem neighborhood, which is the first institution ever to be afforded a kennedy center honor. as vocalist/actress queen latifah   the broadcast’s host   gave a rousing speech extolling the apollo’s glorious legacy in the arts, saxophonist kamasi washington performed unaccompanied behind her. latifah then introduced washington as the theater’s second, and current, master artist in residence. the broadcast’s tribute video then featured audio of ella fitzgerald, relating her memories of participation in the apollo’s famous amateur night showcase, and video footage of the duke ellington orchestra and billie holiday on the storied stage. the 47th kennedy center honors will be broadcast dec. 22 (8:30 11 p.m. est/pst) on cbs. db “i could start my own business and try my hand at all the industry stuff,” rosenwinkel says of starting his heartcore imprint. philadelphia’s kurt rosenwinkel is one of the most famed and exciting jazz guitarists and composers to emerge over the last four decades. his innovative use of effects and cross genre influences has given him a distinctive voice, reflecting his influences and forward looking approach. rosenwinkel’s latest album, the next step band (live at smalls, 1996), released on his label heartcore, showcases the evolution of the music featured on one of his most celebrated albums, the next step (verve, 2001). as with the album, this live recording features mark turner on tenor saxophone, ben street on bass and jeff ballard on drums. currently on tour with brian blade’s fellowship, rosenwinkel took a break to discuss the evolution of the new release. “we were planning our world tour, and releasing an album while on tour is always a good idea,” he said. “i’ve had these dat tapes of the band from the ’90s when we began recording our gigs. i kept them for years, waiting for the right moment to release them. it turned out that now was the perfect time to delve into those archives. we found one particular date that was especially exciting and captured the essence of that era. i remember this gig well because the tunes were mostly new and still fresh. i even showed one of them, ‘zhivago,’ to brad mehldau. it was one of the first performances of that song, and you can hear brad playing it with us that night on the album.” rosenwinkel has also released a book titled kurt rosenwinkel’s ultimate book of compositions, an expansive collection of his work so far. “at a certain point, my collection of music   my ‘book,’ if you will   became quite extensive, he said. “i had always written music by hand, but i decided to digitize everything about eight years ago. this resulted in 1,500 pages of notation covering all my music. what began as a simple idea to convert my tunes into pdfs to make them look nice quickly grew into something much larger. we decided to create a beautiful art book you’d find in bookstores and think, ‘wow, this is stunning.’ it’s the kind of book you’d put on your coffee table to browse through, enjoying the music, photos, manuscripts and commentary. “we went all in on this project, transforming how music books like this are made. we included not just the scores but also all the sibelius [music notation] files, making it easier for arrangers to create new arrangements, transpose parts or adapt the music for different instruments. the material is incredibly accessible now. we also added guitar tabs, which makes it possible for guitarists who might not read traditional notation to play my music. the book includes tabs, full scores and everything exactly as i play it. it’s been a massive and rewarding project.” rosenwinkel keeps many other irons in the fire, and much of his work is being released on his label. heartcore is a venture that has opened new avenues and doors for the guitarist. “i hit the reset button around 2016,” he said. “i left the school where i was teaching and quit my manager, record label and booking agent. i had been working on an album called caipi for a long time and was looking for a home for it and a path forward for myself. i met with some major labels and got positive responses, but nothing was the right fit. i realized that if i wanted to finish the album the way i envisioned, i’d have to do it myself. and if i was going to finish it myself, i might as well release it myself. that’s when i realized i should start my label, initially just to release caipi. but as i thought more, i realized that through the label, i could start my own business and try my hand at all the industry stuff   everything that comes with that world. “for me, it was like a video game. you’re given specific parameters to see what you can do with them. and i love video games. so, why not play the ‘record company’ video game? the fun part is that you can implement your ideas and approaches. as an artist, you often come up under a system where you’re always hoping to get a record deal, hoping to get signed, but you’re just a small cog in a larger machine. and that machine is usually at odds with what you’re trying to achieve as an artist. you often feel like you’re just floating with the current, with no control over where you’re being taken. but when you start your own business, you steer the ship. you’re not just floating anymore; you’ve got a boat and you’re navigating it. since then, i’ve been sailing, catching the wind, trying to find the right direction. one great thing about having a record label is thinking about what amazing artists are out there that i can help. i’m at a point in my career where i have a platform to elevate others. if i can give someone a little lift, that makes me feel great.” when asked about future projects, rosenwinkel revealed, “thankfully, there’s always a lot going on. right now, i’m working on five different albums simultaneously. this year, i completed a particularly significant project: i wrote arrangements for the jazz at lincoln center orchestra, led by wynton marsalis. this was my first experience arranging for a big band. we’ll be releasing it on heartcore records. working with wynton has been a fantastic experience. he deeply understands music, and his knowledge extends beyond the music itself to the business and institutional aspects, particularly through his work at lincoln center. on a personal level, he’s incredibly warm and approachable. i greatly respect him, and our collaboration has been incredibly rewarding. additionally, i’m looking forward to the release of my upcoming recording, where i will be with the band. i interpret the music of brahms as we did with the music of chopin [on 2022’s the chopin project with jean paul brodbeck].” db detroit bred elvin jones remains best known for his revolutionary drumming style. ​the best of the best: jazz from detroit is a landmark   the first documentary to explore the dynamic story of the city’s innovative and influential jazz musicians. inspired by detroit based music critic and arts reporter mark stryker’s award winning 2019 book jazz from detroit (university of michigan press), the film makes the case that you can’t tell the history of jazz without telling the history of jazz from detroit. set within detroit’s dramatic rise and fall as an industrial power and the struggles and triumphs of its african american community, the documentary weaves a compelling historical and cultural tapestry through the 20th and 21st centuries. from legends like elvin jones, yusef lateef and ron carter to today’s stars like karriem riggins, kenny garrett and regina carter, scores of world class jazz musicians have rolled off detroit’s assembly line   nurtured by a profound legacy of mentors such as barry harris, marcus belgrave and rodney whitaker and the resiliency of an often misunderstood american city that never quits. the film reminds audiences that detroit remains critical to the american story and a mecca of black musical excellence, and that jazz is central to the soundtrack of the city’s renaissance. among the musicians, producers, historians and writers featured in the film are harris, lateef, riggins, whitaker, geri allen, terence blanchard, george bohanon, kenny burrell, ron carter, regina carter, james carter, marion hayden, louis hayes, robert hurst, hank jones, elvin jones, thad jones, sheila jordan, christian mcbride, charles mcpherson, pat metheny, johnny o’neal, endea owens, don was, david maraniss, herb boyd, jamon jordan, marsha music and many others. almost four years in the making, the documentary premiered in april in detroit at the freep film festival, an all documentary film festival sponsored by the detroit free press. stryker and partners daniel loewenthal (director and producer) and roberta friedman (producer) spent the summer polishing, raising additional money and completing the byzantine process of licensing the film’s archival footage and recorded music   replacing some archival materials that proved unattainable   preparing to launch the film. the documentary was shown at several music and film festivals this fall, including the richmond international film festival in virginia, where it has been shortlisted for a jury prize; dokstation 2024, an all music documentary festival in bucharest, romania; the buffalo international film festival; the newport beach film festival in california; the windsor international film festival in canada and the braunschweig international film festival in germany. the producers expect additional festival invitations for late this year and into 2025. for more information on the best of the best: jazz from detroit, click here. db robertson had a penetrating, pliant sound with a remarkable softness at its center. herb robertson, a trumpeter and flugelhornist known for his wide lens explorations of the avant garde, died dec. 10. he was 73. his death was announced on facebook by his brother, keith robertson. location and cause of death were not disclosed; keith robertson described his brother’s death as “sudden.” robertson had a penetrating, pliant sound that was often determined to explore as many of its sonic possibilities as it could attain. yet there was also a remarkable softness at its center, with robertson as capable of lyricism as of experimentalism. his collaborators ranged from tim berne, andy laster and mark helias to bill frisell, brian lynch and david sanborn. in any of those contexts, however, robertson brought a remarkable and assured sense of swing. “herb was my mentor and musical sidekick for many years in the ’80s and ’90s,” berne wrote on facebook. “every night was like a feature film full of astounding moments of beautifully inspired insanity.” other musicians added their own warm tributes. “he had a heart of pure gold,” wrote pianist michael jefry stevens. “the best guy,” added guitarist joe morris. “tremendous musician and artist.” clarence clifford robertson was born feb. 21, 1951, in piscataway, new jersey. he began playing trumpet in his elementary school band in the fifth grade; two years later, in junior high school, his teacher introduced him to jazz. by the time of his high school graduation in 1969, he had become a fervent jazz fan and collector, and matriculated at berklee college of music   though he left without a degree in 1973 to tour with jazz rock bands. robertson met tim berne in the late ’70s back in his native new jersey. they became frequent creative partners, each appearing regularly on the other’s gigs and recordings throughout the next two decades and even occasionally into the 2000s. these outings led to robertson being celebrated as a shrewd free improviser, yet also a lyrical and thoughtful one. (robertson had damaged his embouchure from the hard blowing of his jazz rock period; he reinvented his style with a softer attack.) robertson made his first album as a leader, transparency, in 1985, and in the ensuing four decades he appeared on more than 100 recordings that ranged from duo (e.g., tuesday prayers, a 2014 collaboration with danish guitarist mark solborg) to big band (e.g., several records with japanese pianist satoko fujii’s orchestra new york, including 2019’s entity). he remained throughout these projects a steadfast explorer of the timbres at his disposal, frequently experimenting with different mutes and horn blends. hommage a galina ustvolskaya, a march 2024 session led by trombonist steve swell   and featuring bassoonist sara schoenbeck and tubist ben stapp in addition to swell and robertson   may have been his final recording. db “i love doing ballads,” mike stern says. “it’s just a part of me, some part of emotionally how i feel sometimes.” stories of major shifts and rebirths among musicians during the past five years are common, from weathering the pandemic to dealing with various sea changes in the ways the music industry works   or doesn’t. for formidable veteran guitarist mike stern, the path to his long awaited new album, echoes and other songs (mack avenue), was especially arduous, making the focus, power and positivity of the final result all the more triumphant. the covid era gave rise to a long period of inaction and inward reflection   along with forced free time for composing and woodshedding. simultaneously, though, stern was nursing a serious hand impairing injury after a fall in the street outside his new york home in 2016. as an added dose of harsh reality, the sudden death of his longtime producer and friend jim beard in march of 2024, shortly after working on the album, lent a bittersweet after effect to the otherwise uplifting project. stern is back up to speed, and grace, as a player and musician on the road. he spoke to downbeat from a tour stop in shenzhen, china   following a busy stretch on the european summer jazz circuit timed with the release of his new album. given the circumstances leading up to this long awaited return to stern’s discographic adventures, does this album have a special meaning for him? “yeah, definitely,” says the affable guitarist. “i wasn’t sure i was gonna be able to do it. i’ve been so nervous since the accident   more about psychological problems from this hand injury.” one new development in his musical life is the regular presence on the road of his wife, leni, a respected guitarist and solo artist in her own right. “i’ve been busy,” stern comments, “and leni is traveling with me everywhere. she’s playing all the gigs we’re doing now. when we hit 70, we just said, ‘let’s not be apart so much. let’s play together and see. it has worked out great. i would’ve done it earlier.” back in 2016, as he was getting ready for a tour, stern tripped over some misplaced construction material in the street by his home in the city, breaking both humerus bones, leaving serious damage done to his picking hand. “my right hand is the one that got the nerve damage,” notes stern. “but, you know, where there’s a will, there’s a way. obviously, i wasn’t gonna give up,” he laughs. “what else am i gonna do? i’ve been playing guitar my whole life. i need it. as much as i still moan still about it, ’cause i’ve lost some finger stuff that i used to do, there’s plenty there that i can work with and get the music out.” he now is up to his old nimble and fluid plectrum wielding tricks, thanks to a pick fastened to his finger with wig glue and tape   a method suggested by a similarly afflicted drummer friend, ray levier. medically, stern has been helped considerably by hand specialist alton barron, recommended by fellow guitarist wayne krantz. dr. barron, stern notes, “has this musician’s treatment foundations, which i found out later that he does with elvis costello, who also helped out. he helps fund it and some other people, too. they get contributions, and he gets a bunch of doctors to help people, musicians who get injured or need carpal tunnel surgery or whatever and don’t have insurance.” boston born stern, part of the deeply american grained sedgwick dynasty (including lateral relations to actress kyra sedgwick), belongs in an elite cadre of highly influential guitarists now in the 70 something zone, who studied at berklee school of music in the 1970s and went on to create strong and lasting imprints on the state of modern jazz guitar. of that legendary cast   which includes pat metheny, john scofield and bill frisell   stern established a signature sound combining blues and bebop lingo and a distinctive blending of clean and warmly distorted tones. although a respected player as an up and comer in new york, stern’s star rose sharply when miles davis hired him in 1981. but trouble followed the young guitarist, and davis sent stern to rehab following a downward spiral into alcohol and heroin abuse. that was a turning point. following treatment, stern’s life as a leader started boldly with 1986’s upside downside, the initial chapter in a discography now some 17 titles strong. echoes and other songs, his first solo album since 2017’s trip (so named partly regarding his accident), continues and slightly broadens the stern style of a thinking person’s groove and lyrical balladry, established in the late ’80s. there was one silver lining from the fall. a financial settlement from the accident came just in time to help subsidize echoes and other songs, which stern   flying without the agency of a record deal or company   wanted to recorded with such stellar players as saxophonist chris potter, bassist christian mcbride and drummer antonio sánchez along with longstanding cohorts dennis chambers, bassist/vocalist richard bona and saxophonist bob franceschini   all in the state of the art power station studio. the sessions also included a cameo by leni on the ngoni, an african string instrument, and percussionist arto tunçboyacıyan. while making the album, stern says, “i got inspired by all those guys: the way they played, and they were also really supportive of me, just in general. and they just killed. chris potter had just played a week at the vanguard. so he was ready to go. as soon as he put the horn to his mouth, i thought, ‘oh man, this is canceled,’ laughs. ‘let me do this in another year or something. i’m gonna go home and practice.’ he was unbelievable, solo after solo. and same with christian.” the recording process, stern reports, “was very live. i gotta have the conversation going on between players, the spontaneous conversation between everybody, and that was what was happening. i had to fix a few notes that i probably didn’t need to, but you use the studio for what it’s for. there’s plenty of live stuff out there nowadays, more than we all want. “some people catch a meal before it’s even cooked,” he laughs. “and richard bona did the vocals afterwards. it’s amazing what he does, just such a natural thing. he grew up in cameroon and his mom was a choral teacher. that’s what she did in the church. he’s got all that background.” african colors have graced stern’s music more and more over the course of his writing and recording, in part from his collaborative exposure to bona’s heritage. the african connection came “partly through (richard). and just as much from leni. she’s got an african trio, with mamadou ba and percussionist eladji alioune faye, a couple of guys from senegal who are fantastic players. they live in brooklyn. leni has so much interest in so much stuff. her curiosity and her creativity are just phenomenal. i’m always stealing ideas from her and stealing influences from her.” on the darker side of the album process was the surprising death of beard   a multi talented and underappreciated artist, producer and composer and recent member of steely dan’s touring band   soon after the recording was finished. stern calls beard’s passing a “total tragedy. everybody was shocked. i’m still so sad about it, ’cause we were good friends. he really had a lot of energy, and then he could get sad and blue, as we used to call it, and me, too. and we’d talk it through. whatever motivated you or whatever came through in his music was just awesome. he could write some just amazing, amazing pieces. “it was about to happen more and more for him. he was getting a little looser. he was just too perfectionistic, and he was finally realizing, ‘let’s just get past that.’ he called me and told me he was off the road with steely dan. he was in the hospital with cancer, and they had a plan to deal with it.” did stern have any particular theme or concept for echoes and other songs? “not really,” he comments. “when i have some tunes and i say, ‘i gotta do a record,’ i have mixed feelings. ‘oh, i gotta do a record!’ [laughs] i feel like i gotta do it, no matter what, not even for any specific career move. part of me says, ‘that’s what i do.’ and i’m in a position to do it. “i’ve always, always had a record deal. i was lucky as hell to get where i got because of playing with miles and just by accident being in the right place at the right time. i met bill evans [the saxophonist], who introduced me to miles. miles heard me, i got that gig, and one thing led to another, so then i got a record deal. they actually called me in those days. i lucked out big time. i always felt like if i got the opportunity, no matter how i make it happen, i gotta try to record something   even if i gotta pay for it myself, like in this case. with leni, we do the same thing with her.” in a common modern record label transaction, especially in jazz, stern created the master and aligned with mack avenue for distribution. “i’ll go in to do a record,” stern says, “with jim, usually   on probably 10 out of the 17 that i’ve done. we would figure out what i wanted to include and what i didn’t. there isn’t a theme, per se. i felt like if i’m writing all the tunes and playing on everything, then it’ll hang together. “one of the reasons i call it echoes is that echoes are like inspirations that you have in your brain, from your own experiences from different people and your own stuff that you come up with over the years. it’s more like a bunch of songs that i wanted to record. i’m particularly happy with this one called ‘crumbles.’” titled after the nickname of late, great guitarist john abercrombie (another berklee trained guitarist of note from his generation), “crumbles” features a disarmingly swampy/rootsy intro, stellar piano playing by beard and even a moment of quasi free improvisation along the path. stern recalls, “we were thinking, ‘how should we do this tune? we didn’t even rehearse this.’ i said, ‘let’s see what happens.’ i think christian mcbride said, ‘let’s give jim something on this.’ he hadn’t played yet. of course, he took it to the moon.” from the well developed ballad artistry aspect of stern’s songbook   a chapter including his classic “little shoes,” from upside downside   the new album sports the glowing, aptly named “gospel song.” “i love doing ballads,” he says. “it’s just a part of me, some part of emotionally how i feel sometimes, so those come out. ballads are close to my heart anyway, in general, just anybody’s ballad, even if it’s a singer or a pop tune   if it’s got a strong melody. also, when i was little, i was in a church choir, me and keith richards from the rolling stones. he was in a church choir. can you imagine? “i was in there just not for any religious reasons, but because i wanted to sing. my mom knew i wanted to sing or do something musically. i was yelling around the house, and i would kind of sing. it was in grade school. someone told her, ‘there’s this really good choir that has an amazing choir master.’ it was cool to hear that music, and some of the choral music was gorgeous. i guess some of that is in some of my stuff.” through it all, stern has maintained a strong belief in the importance of live playing, “especially in jazz,” shying away from the recent trend of long distance tracking or overdubbing, except where necessary. his live mantra includes a remarkable stint of some 40 years holding court in the tiny but mythic 55 bar on christopher street   which sadly closed in 2022 after the landlord demanded back rent for the covid lockdown time. hearing stern burning and ballad izing in that compact semi basement space became a unique and intense tradition in jazz for decades. stern relays the story, starting with bassist jeff andrews’ invitation to play at the 55, “when he heard that the club owner wanted to have music there.” “i was still playing with miles back then. we played duo. i was drinking heavily at the time   i’ve been sober for years, but in those days i was not,” he laughs. “i was the opposite. so the club owner would just give me as much as i could drink in [laughs] and then jeff would get $25, and i think he bought some drugs, and we got higher. “and then [drummer] adam nussbaum started playing there regularly with us and then victor lewis and a whole bunch of cats. the first time i ever played with chris [potter] was there. leni played there a lot, too.” in idiomatic terms, stern’s hybrid of influences, from rock to bop and with generous doses of blues spirit and worldly spices, extends an appeal to a broad listenership, even as it defies easy categorization in the segmented jazz scene. the mike stern sound is about more than neo fusion. tracing his evolution, stern asserts, “i always respected and dug the way john mclaughlin played. it was amazing, but it wasn’t my favorite kind of jazz. there was something that i always liked about the blues. i heard more of that from the brecker brothers, when they were doing heavy metal bebop: it was rocking and swinging and had all those lines that i love, from ’trane. there’s tons of bebop in there. “i just kind of fell into that groove where there’s a lot of blues in there, too, and then i guess from leni and her band and richard bona i got into more world music kind of stuff, too. i’ve always been pretty eclectic, when it comes to that. being a guitar player, especially in the ’60s, i was always listening to hendrix, jeff beck and all the blues players, like the kings   b.b., albert, freddy   and robert johnson. “i guess my music came out of that combination and some classical stuff that my mom used to play. she used to play a lot of classical piano around the house. she was actually going to be a professional classical player, either a teacher or actual performer. and then she had a bunch of kids.” stern was one of five children. through the vicissitudes of experience he has been through, stern remains philosophical, humble and forward thinking in his chosen calling. as he says, “it’s a matter of luck, making music a full time profession. it’s just something i felt like when i was younger … what was i was gonna do? i went to berklee and then one thing led to another. i just realized i can do this all the time, and i wanna do it. it’s a lot of work. “you’re just curious and you try to learn as much as you can, never come close to learning even one tenth of 1% of all there is to know. it’s endless. but it’s a great journey to be on.” db ​vijay iyer was among the jazz eclectic noteworthies at this year’s enjoy jazz festival. from oct. 2 to nov. 2, heidelberg, the cultural hub of southwestern germany, hosted the magnificent enjoy jazz festival for jazz and more. it’s germany’s largest such gala. in its 26th season, event organizers led by exuberant founder rainer kern assembled a massive package of fascinating daily shows in a variety of venues in heidelberg, mannheim, ludwigshafen and schwetzingen   none, however, within easy walking distance of each other. the vast majority of jazz bashes offered throughout the year in the states and europe feature performances that are bundled tightly together without a moment for reflection in between. catch one show on the fly and often make a mad dash to get to the next stage. not so at enjoy. as kern puts it with his 45 concerts spread across the calendar, it’s not only enjoyment in the joyous sense of the word, but it’s also ruminative in nature, a time to savor. that’s when the real joy sinks in. what’s fascinating is enjoy’s thematic branding. last year’s theme was “trust,” while this year was “healing.” the idea behind it is that the act of listening to music has a healing impact. music empowers. the motto informed the acts and mused on the region’s legacy. in many ways the mountain rung region of heidelberg has experienced a healing in its history. it was the rare city in germany spared by the allies bombing during world war ii, preserving its long and narrow pedestrian streets with thriving shops and restaurants. and after more than 70 years, since 2013, it is no longer occupied by the headquarters of the u.s. army’s military presence of more than 20,000 soldiers. in its place, heidelberg has become a city of innovation   as partially evidenced in the music germination. as a visitor to enjoy, you’re bound to miss a lot of the marquee acts of forward thrusting musicians, unless you camp out there for two months for the steady diet of at least one show per night. this year’s jazz eclectic noteworthies included artist in residence nduduzo makhathini, vijay iyer, cécile mclorin salvant, kris davis, nicole mitchell, david murray, meshell ndegeocello, avishai cohen, ghost note among many others. i made my truncated visit the long weekend of oct. 18 21. to use the word again, it was pure enjoyment. four shows in four days. three of the four featured piano variety, and the last night, for me, a vocal revelation. polish pianist marcin wasilewski, a longtime ecm artist who mentored under polish trumpeter tomasz stańko, celebrated the 60th anniversary of his trio with bassist slawomir kurkiewicz and drummer michal miskiewicz. the oct. 18 two set show took place at schwetzingen’s grand rokokotheater with its opera like balconies. there was a quiet, interrupted by a splash of drama plus dynamic mystery, with each band member feeding off the other. they were tight, but this standard piano trio setup never fully launched, with fine playing and lyrical drive but seldom achieving an intimacy. oct. 19 belonged to remarkable pianist tania giannouli. she brought thunder and elegance to her 90 minute solo performance of improvisational surprises. she reigned at heidelberg’s friedenskirche church, an old structure that was completely restored inside with a sonics friendly dome. playing to a sold out crowd, giannouli opened her intoxicating show with mystery within the box, making the strings growl, then lightly stroking them as if to make the instrument fully come alive. she then passionately dove into her first number with left hand urgency and lyrical beauty in her right hand as she melded together her classical training, love of jazz and an inherent sense of her native greek folklore. key to giannouli’s show were the surprises conjured by her adventurous abstract improvisation: moving moods, building climaxes, dancing into full blooms, playful shimmers, dynamic screeching and scratching. from her 2023 album solo, she twisted and turned the complex melody of “spiral.” standing above the keys, she plucked and bent the strings by hand and expanded the piano’s range with an array of prepared piano objects   sheets of paper, small mallets, chimes, pieces of cloth, hardened gum   tucked in the box. it was a sonic wonder. on oct. 20, solo piano once again took center stage. however, it was an unadventurous disappointment with bill laurance playing at heidelberg’s metropolinks commissionary. a co founder of snarky puppy, laurance demonstrated his prowess on the yamaha grand’s keys with his influences flowing from jazz, classical and rock. he dazzled with his harmonic ecstasy. he gave an impressive display of embellished colors. but laurance came up short. melody seemed to be missing. little was memorable about each tune, with no lyrical line to anchor. he did cover a bill evans tune, but it proved uneventful. my enjoy finale featured the jazz infused singer of the progressive future, arooj aftab, who was recently nominated for a grammy. on oct. 21 at heidelberg’s karistorbahnhof stage, sun glassed and dressed all in black, the pakistani/newyork singer composer emphasized the dark with music from her recent release night reign. it’s her fourth album and comes in the shadow of her surprising 2022 grammy win for best global music performance for her catchy tune “mohabbat” from her 2021 album vulture prime. she’s welcoming the step forward in the evolutionary jazz world. singing in her native language (urdu) and english, aftab channeled her world travels in her music, which today is immersed in new york’s future bound, boundaries abandoned music scene. with her luscious, mysterious voice, aftab opened her night hymns with a tune rooted in minimalism and jazz followed by “a mood song” that was playful, soul searching, sexy and dynamic. then came “whiskey,” one of the best songs on the new album. she told the crowd it was about drinking too much in a rush of romance and desire, then getting lost trying to find her way home. she sang about the moon and the act of letting go. undergirding the music was, as she has said, “the night as a time of mischief and enchantment. it’s my biggest source of inspiration.” aftab’s string accompaniment was superb, featuring darian donovan thomas on violin, gyan riley on electric guitar and petros klampanis on bass. they were totally in sync with her, at times sounding as huge as an orchestra, then delicately painting colors. in the green room after the show, aftab welcomed a conversation about her music. “i like the night,” she says. “we all do. they call us jazz cats, and cats roam around at night. i’m looking for something simple enough that’s quite obvious in our lives. but these stories also have a range of depth, like with ‘whiskey,’ trying to get home. you meet someone and it’s crazy. it happens more when you’re young, happening in the night in a lighthearted way. you think the song is about getting drunk with whiskey, but it’s really about much more in our lives.” while aftab identifies with jazz   on her latest album she collaborates with fellow seeker vijay iyer and impressive pianist james francies on her unique interpretation of “autumn leaves”   she journeys beyond. “i don’t know how to say what i am,” she said. “it’s just a very personable style. it’s what the music sounds like in my head. i’m interested in different styles and cultures to make a big personal, natural sounding thing. it’s unapologetic. it doesn’t play by the rules. but at the same time, there’s a lot of deliciousness in the choices i make.” in true enjoy sentiment, it’s aftab’s healing. db out of/into was initiated by don was as a tribute to blue note’s 85th anniversary. eastwest studios is a state of the art, multi roomed recording facility on sunset boulevard in the heart of hollywood with a history that reaches back to the early 1960s and before. back then it was known as united western recorders and hosted era defining sessions by frank sinatra, elvis presley, the beach boys and   befitting its location   recording the flintstones theme. on a monday evening after the rain drenched grammy weekend in february, blue note chief don was sat in the control room of studio 1, taking notes as the all star, blue note ensemble out of/into   consisting of immanuel wilkins, joel ross, gerald clayton, matt brewer and kendrick scott   recorded the music for what may well be the group’s sole recording, motion 1, to be released on dec. 6. qmillion (keith lewis) engineered. the blue note focused group out of/into was initiated by was as a tribute to the label’s 85th anniversary, to both record and tour. the members had been tasked with composing tunes for the project, and with more than two weeks on the road preceding the two day session, the music was honed and ready. the only music recorded for the album were originals; no blue note covers as might be expected. titles like “aspiring to normalcy,” “synchrony,” “nacho supreme” and “brothers in arms” were listed on was’ ipad. “i think people are going to be blown away by this album   this is a real jazz album,” was stated, a sly comment that the label under his guidance was touting a wider range of music styles and sounds than ever. “this record will be around for a while.” most tunes required no more than one or two takes. after each, the group collected in the control room to hear playbacks, discussing if corrective measures were needed. “did we get the form right?” someone asks after “nacho supreme.” the tempo on another track sagged noticeably and the decision was made to paste the alto saxophone solo and out theme of one take on another, a digital fix that would have required razor blade precision in earlier days of tape recording. scott mentions hearing such an edit coming out of the piano solo on the tune “chico san.” from donald byrd’s 1967 album the creeper. fixes of this sort were part of the blue note tradition. “too bad rudy [van gelder] didn’t have ableton,” someone else mentions, referring to a modern day digital audio workstation. “an analogue ableton!” chuckled was at the thought. out of/into represents an ongoing label tradition, another chapter to the label’s ongoing saga. this group is the latest in a succession of groups assembled by the label. the collectives have all been temporary all star affairs, often linked to a significant anniversary, with recordings released and a support tour. some focused on reinterpreting classic tracks from the label’s enduring catalogue. others   like the current lineup   are primarily about introducing new music. for many participants, the brief side project served as career boosters. in 1985 when bruce lundvall revived blue note after the label’s brief mothballing from 1981 to ’84 (the sole dormant period in the label’s history), the band otb (out of the blue) was created, featuring future headliners like kenny garrett, steve wilson, michael philip mossman, renee rosnes, ralph bowen, harry pickens, robert hurst, ralph peterson and billy drummond. in 2000, greg osby led new directions, which helped introduce new arrivals like jason moran, stefon harris, mark shim, tarus mateen and nasheet waits. the blue note 7, marking the label’s 70th year in 2009, featured more established names (bill charlap, nicholas peyton, ravi coltrane, peter bernstein, peter washington and lewis nash), while 2014’s blue note allstars commemorated the 75th with a newer breed: robert glasper, ambrose akinmusire, marcus strickland, lionel loueke, derrick hodge and kendrick scott. ten years later, the label is celebrating its 85th, and scott responded to the call again. he serves as a link to this ritual: the rhythmic foundation in out of/into and its reigning elder. in a hangout room adjacent to the recording studio, he spoke first when the group is asked how they approached traveling down this road again when the ruts have been cut so deep by past tributes. how best to deal with this challenge? “i think you have to have courage enough to be yourself and not think of a tribute band as only doing what all the masters have done, but by showing how we learned to be ourselves, being ‘downstream of the masters,’ as gerald said.” scott notes that what makes it easier is an abiding sense of connection the label historically fostered. “in an interview, billy higgins talked about how blue note is a family. it was true then and it still is now.” “yeah, we already call each other in ‘real’ life,” wilkins added, laughing. “we’re all honestly invested because we have pretty deep ties to one another outside of being the guys in a tribute band.” ross echoed the idea that in this iteration of revisiting blue note, the priority is clearly originality. “i don’t think don put us together with the purpose of nostalgia. no, he put us together to be ourselves because that’s the best thing that we can do and i think that’s what we’ve been doing.” clayton suggested a view of the group as a means of measuring change and forward movement in the music. “if you take a tribute band from a certain generation and if they’re honestly expressing themselves and not thinking about doing the best impression of what came before them, you can check out the way the language has morphed. every 10 years or so, it’s guaranteed you see another group of family members come along, start exploring new ideas   honoring certain values but also abandoning others in service of that exploration. it’s not always so black and white that way but i like being able to check out how the music has evolved.” on the road, clayton assumes the role of emcee for out of/into, making onstage announcements and triggering interview snippets of blue note heroes like billy higgins, wayne shorter, duke pearson, lee morgan and sonny rollins, who can be heard commenting on the label and general musical philosophy. it’s impossible to avoid mentioning classic recordings and specific tunes when speaking of blue note. in concert, the quintet performs only a few covers   like thelonious monk’s “evidence” and wayne shorter’s “infant eyes” (the latter as a soul stilling encore to their new york concert in february.) as brewer notes, “if i think about paying tribute to those cats, the challenge really is those records. it’s already so beautiful. some of my favorite blue note records really changed my life   like wayne shorter, andrew hill, i mean it’s an enormous list of music that was ahead of its time. so, no, we can’t just recreate that. what we need to do is live up to that example.” a discussion ensued of what blue note recording should be the gateway for a young listener, rather than just a personal favorite. “that’s hard,” said scott, who pondered the question silently. ross offered: “my 12 year old self wasn’t hip to bobby hutcherson. the first blue note record i was privy to was bags and monk. i didn’t have really any other vibraphone perspective. now i’ve fallen in love with bobby.” “andrew hill, point of departure,” was wilkins choice. “the writing is ridiculous. andrew’s playing is really crazy and the interactions amazing. i definitely learned a lot about composing from that record.” clayton nodded, adding: “andrew hill’s black fire. i didn’t know that music when i was a kid. i listened to a ton of blue note records, but that part of the catalogue i didn’t really get to until much later, like in college.” “if i was giving myself like a baby step encouragement,” brewer noted, “i would say check out sonny clark and some of the cats who were coming a little bit more from the new york ‘edge’ kind of a sound. i think it would have been hip to expose my ears to that earlier.” kendrick? “come on, man. it’s got to be maiden voyage. it’s always in my head: i hear the sound of the drums, the sound of van gelder studio, and of course each of those musicians. freddie hubbard changed the way i thought about trumpet. each one of them changed the way i thought about things.” db meshell ndegeocello performed a powerhouse set at north london’s koko theater. every november for the past 32 years, london has transformed itself into a haven for improvisers. over 10 days, venues across the city   from lofty concert halls to intimate basement clubs and makeshift pop ups   host a sweeping selection of the world’s jazz talent. the occasion is efg london jazz festival, a remarkable feat of planning and purpose that has expanded in 2024 to encompass more than 350 shows from artists spanning the breadth and depth of jazz referencing music. this year’s themes were typically wide ranging, spanning celebrations of louisiana as the birthplace of jazz with the dirty dozen brass band, as well as a retrospective to mark 30 years of post apartheid rule in south africa featuring the country’s boundary pushing improvisers like thandi ntuli and bokani dyer, and headline performances from american greats including pat metheny, billy cobham and charles tolliver. yet, one captivating and somewhat unexpected through line was the presence of moving and powerful jazz vocals across the vast selection of programming. celebrating the release of her lauded 2024 album marking the centenary of james baldwin’s birth, no more water: the gospel of james baldwin, bassist meshell ndegeocello performed a powerhouse set at north london’s koko theater. backed by a seven piece band, ndegeocello showcased her unrivaled capacity for establishing downtempo grooves that sit deep in the pocket, immersing the listener in their languorous swing. blending effortlessly with bassist kyle miles and drummer abe rounds, ndegeocello sank into the syncopations of tracks like “travel,” “trouble” and “what did i do?,” exploring the yearning themes of baldwin’s social consciousness writing. yet, it was featured vocalist justin hicks who stole the show with his deeply expressive, vibrato laden lines that brought life to the moving balladry of “eyes” and the triumphal encore of “love,” where he merged with ndegecello’s groove to produce a euphoric experience of group harmony that reverberated long into the night. if hicks’ vocals ventured into emotive self expression, it was the intimate performance from singer dawn richard and multi instrumentalist spencer zahn at the gorgeous union chapel that pushed the vulnerability of vocal performances to its most raw edges. performing material from their two tender records, 2022’s pigments and 2024’s quiet in a world full of noise, richard frequently found herself in tears onstage while working through the personal lamentations of her experimental r&b collaborations. accompanied by zahn on bass and piano, as well as a saxophonist and violinist, richard produced subtly expansive versions of her intimate work. her voice reverberated through the church space on “stasis” to produce a sound so delicately gentle it barely registered, while “life in numbers” and “traditions” featured just richards and zahn on piano, showcasing their intuitive connection. bravely leaving room for silence between their instrumental phrases and richards’ vocal acrobatics, the duo highlighted the emotive punctuation of space amid instrumental flourishes. on the other end of the spectrum, the dynamic ferocity and power of the voice was equally showcased in a series of shows throughout the festival program. pianist robert glasper played two shows at koko, transforming the 1,500 capacity theater into what felt like an anything goes late night jam band performance. accompanied by dj jahi sundance triggering samples of everything from erykah badu’s soulful melodies to yebba’s longing balladry, glasper and his quartet played through intricate instrumental versions of his two decade back catalogue and covers of r&b and hip hop hits. surprise featured vocalists stole the show, though, with cynthia erivo producing a stunning display of vocal control on her version of christmas standard “god rest ye merry gentlemen,” while rapper common freestyled with typical verbosity and charm over a classic ’90s boom bap beat before launching into an ecstatic rendition of his 2000 fan favorite track “the light.” in the grandiose concert hall of the barbican, meanwhile, trumpeter and strata east co founder charles tolliver performed a celebration of drummer max roach’s centenary. opening the first half of the show with a sextet playing through several fiendishly complex bebop compositions, including his collaborations with trumpeter clifford brown and the sprightly track “effi,” it was a reworking of the cole porter standard “i get a kick out of you” that broke into new territory thanks to the dual vocals and tenor saxophone playing of camille thurman. doubling between fast paced scatting and mirrored melodies on her horn, thurman pushed the group to a fierce crescendo, while in the second half of the performance when she was backed by a formidable big band of london players, it was thurman’s sweeping vocalizations that gave form and emotive dynamics to tolliver’s all encompassing 45 minute suite for max roach. for a show honoring one of the great drummers in jazz, it was thurman’s voice that unexpectedly shone through, producing welcome melody and feeling throughout the rhythmic intensity. rounding out the festival’s programming back in the majestic setting of union chapel, spiritual jazz influenced tamil singer ganavya produced perhaps the finest vocal performance of the week. combining yearning intimacy and whispered softness with technical displays of vocal complexity and soaring, full throated power, the quincy jones, esperanza spalding and wayne shorter collaborator cemented her status as one of jazz’s most in demand talents. accompanied by a trio of harp, piano and bass, ganavya performed a spiritual repertoire of classical indian carnatic singing, tamil hymns and folk songs, improvising seamlessly across leaping phrases to touch on the journeying work of alice coltrane and pharoah sanders as much as her own south asian heritage. inviting both her mother and father onstage at points to sing in unison, as well as closing on an audience led group singalong to the remarkable words of the late poet and death row inmate marcellus williams, ganavya’s performance was not only a demonstration of her virtuosity but an important homage to the one instrument we all possess and its capacity to move us innately. as the festival drew to a close, ganavya’s show felt like a call to action for everyone with a voice to make theirs heard: to improvise in their own way and to carry their song forward into the days and months to come. db looking for a great gift for your vinyl loving loved one (or yourself)? record store day’s black friday releases offer a slew of great options. here’s what’s droppin’ in jazz, blues and musically adjacent worlds on friday, nov. 29. check out all the special releases at rsd black friday. dave douglas, gifts (greenleaf) a two lp set of vinyl limited to 800 copies, this is douglas’ first new album in almost two years. he’s joined by ian chang and rafiq bhatia (members of son lux and oscar nominated for the score of everything everywhere all at once), as well as saxophonist james brandon lewis. the album features four billy strayhorn compositions along with six originals. it’s an rsd first release. bill evans, in norway: the kongsberg concert (elemental) this two lp set is limited to 4,500 copies in a never before released performance by the bill evans trio. it’s been remastered from stereo reels recently discovered in the kongsberg jazz festival archives. it’s an rsd exclusive release. big freedia, hitz, vol. 2: 2010 2020, (queen diva) this single lp release is limited to 1,000 copies from the new orleans party starter as a collection of freedia’s biggest hits pressed on pink vinyl. it’s an rsd first release david grisman, dawg ’90, deluxe edition (org music) this two lp release is limited to 1,300 copies. this is the debut of grisman’s acoustic disc label, originally released in 1990 on cassette and cd. the album features the david grisman quintet and special guests mark o’connor and matt glaser on fiddle. it was nominated for a grammy in the country instrumental category. this is its first ever vinyl pressing. jimi hendrix, songs for groovy children: the fillmore east concerts (legacy) an rsd exclucsive, this two album set is limited to 4,500 copies presenting highlights from the historic debut concerts by jimi hendrix’s band of gypsys (jimi hendrix, billy cox, buddy miles) at new york’s fillmore east on new year’s eve 1969 and new year’s day 1970. john lee hooker, don’t turn me from your door (rhino atlantic) originally released in 1963, this lp features rare tracks from the early career of john lee hooker, printed with the french cover and pressed on yellow vinyl. it’s an rsd exclusive limited to 2,000 copies. al jarreau, wow! (resonance) an rsd first release limited to 1,300 copies, wow! brings back a live performance by the legendary singer and songwriter al jarreau, captured at his first appearance in washington, d.c., in august of 1976. jazz sabbath, the 1968 tapes (blacklake) longtime black sabbath/ozzy osbourne keyboards and guitar player adam wakeman (as milton keanes) is back with jazz sabbath the 1968 tapes. this rsd black friday exclusive mono edition features eight black sabbath songs re imagined as classic jazz tracks. it’s a limited, 2,500 copy pressing. julian lage, live in los angeles (mack avenue) guitar virtuoso julian lage blends classic melodic styles and avant garde experimentation for live in los angeles. lage brought his acclaimed trio featuring bassist scott colley and drummer kenny wollesen to the blue whale for this intimate performance. the ep is lage’s only live recording to date, and the vinyl edition is an rsd exclusive with a limited 2,500 copy pressing. tony levin, bringing it down to the bass (flatiron recordings) the legendary bass (and chapman stick) artist releases his first solo album since 2007. it’s a two lp set pressed on espresso colored vinyl and includes a 24 page booklet. it’s an rsd first with a pressing of 2,800 copies. joni mitchell, hejira demos (rhino) an rsd exclusive, this vinyl breakout comes straight from the joni mitchell archives, vol. 4 boxed set, pressed on 180 gram black vinyl and featuring mitchell’s march 1976 solo demos for one of her most acclaimed albums. it’s limited to 5,000 copies. morphine, b sides and otherwise (ryko/rhino) available for the first time on vinyl, morphine’s first rarities collection features b sides and other rare tracks recorded between 1993 and 1997 and never released on their studio albums. an rsd exclusive, it’s limited to 3,000 copies. max roach, deeds, not words (craft) here’s a mono mix of drummer max roach’s 1958 album featuring booker little on trumpet, ray draper on tuba, george coleman on tenor saxophone and art davis on bass. the limited edition, 2,500 copy pressing uses (aaa) lacquers cut from the original master tapes by kevin gray at cohearent audio pressed on 180 gram black vinyl at fidelity record pressing. it’s an rsd exclusive. gil scott heron and brian jackson, from south africa to south carolina (culture factory usa) a1975 studio album by the vocalist gil scott heron and keyboardist brian jackson, this album includes the hits “johannesburg” and “a lovely day” and has been out of print until this rsd black friday release. it has a limited pressing of 3,000 and adds four bonus tracks to this two lp set. sahib shihab, sahib’s jazz party & after hours (org music) saxophonist/flutist sahib shihab delivers this live album recorded at the jazzhus montmartre in copenhagen around the same time that he relocated there in 1963. the two lp set showcases sahab’s openness to the avant garde, expanding on the bop centric playing. it’s a limited pressing of 1,250 copies and an rsd exclusive. sun ra, lights on a satelite: live at the left bank 1978 (resonance) this rsd exclusive release is available for the very first time, highlighting sun ra and his arkestra recorded on july 23, 1978, at the famous ballroom in baltimore, maryland, by the left bank jazz society. the deluxe package includes liner notes by j.d. considine, plus interviews with the centenarian arkestra saxophonist marshall allen, nea jazz master saxophonist gary bartz and pianist craig taborn. it’s a two lp set with a limited pressing of 1,500 copies. cecil taylor, live at the cafe montmartre (org music) this recording has been lauded by critics as a landmark performance, “among the greatest live recordings in jazz” (penguin guide to jazz recordings). an rsd exclusive limited to 1,500 copies, it captures taylor in peak form, supported by sunny murray on drums and jimmy lyons on alto saxophone on nov. 23, 1962. mccoy tyner & joe henderson, forces of nature: live at sluggs’ (blue note) this never before issued, two lp recording places the legendary pianist and tenor saxophonist in one of the great 1960s jazz haunts of new york city, backed by jack dejohnette on drums and henry grimes on bass. the recording was produced by zev feldman, dejohnette and lydia dejohnette, complete with rare photos and detailed liner notes. various artists, jazz dispensary: the golden hour (craft) the cratediggers of jazz dispensary present a new stash that evokes the feeling of floating on a cool, lone wave while soaking in the last sunbeams of the day. featuring the groove of renown artists like johnny hammond, sonny rollins, chico hamilton and vince guaraldi, the set includes artwork by acclaimed visual artist kamil czapiga, who filmed special color inks reacting to songs from the album with microscopic cameras to create the cover art. pressed on golden wave swirl vinyl, the set is an rsd exclusive limited to 4,000 copies. db golden city mixes instrumental colors, rhythmic schemes and textural elements. art and activism have historically met through the medium of jazz. but rarely have those meetings yielded works that plumbed the depths of social despair with more emotional and intellectual complexity than golden city, alto saxophonist miguel zenón’s disquieting disquisition on displacement in san francisco. while the piece would likely make an impact any time it is performed   it is, after all, 80 uncompromising minutes of unexcelled virtuosity executed without intermission   its new york premiere, held nov. 14 at columbia university’s miller theatre, drew special power from the confluence of social context and musical content. coming only nine days after the election of a president who promises a wholesale roundup of people   the kind of action central to zenón’s critique   the concert was held amid an atmosphere laden with feelings ranging from mild uncertainty to expectations of doom. the mood, of course, had differed at the piece’s one other performance, in may 2022, at the venue of the co commissioning organization, sfjazz; so, too, at its november 2023 recording session, which produced a document garnering a 2025 grammy nomination for best large jazz ensemble album. a year on, the pre performance rehearsal suggested to zenón that his nonet’s third encounter with the score would be its most consequential. “it feels like we’re starting to play the music,” he told the audience before the performance. by all indications, time and changed circumstance had only heightened the intensity with which the work was delivered   and received. but its power owed as well to the contrasts zenón had already baked into it. throughout its 11 movements, the work liberally mixed and matched instrumental colors, rhythmic schemes and textural elements. bolstered by vividly realized screen projections, the music featured flashes of irony tucked into stretches of carefully constructed chaos. the piece opened with a moment of quiet foreboding via a cadenza offered by zenón. adopting a tone of purposeful restraint, he alluded to the pain of the displaced ohlone people   natives of the bay area to whom the movement “sacred land” was dedicated. like a reporter, zenón, a shrewd observer of current events who had conducted extensive research among immigrant and native communities before writing the piece, maintained a respectful distance from his subject. the fire was to come. it came, in fact, in fairly short order. closing in on the cadenza’s end, zenón settled on a repeated six note figure. faintly echoing native sounds, the figure provided a central organizing point around which the band could build. and it did so rapidly, fashioning a friendly environment for a fiercely modern contrapuntal colloquy, courtesy of the three trombonists, that threatened to engulf the native echoes. those echoes were never quite lost. brassy but not overwhelmingly so, the trombonists remained sensitive to the nature of the project. indeed, they proved the band’s most provocative element   both collectively (constituting, along with zenón, a formidable front line) and individually (each in his own way propelling the narrative on one of the movements). if there was a through line in the trombonists’ solos, it was the projection of righteous rage. on “sacred land,” diego urcola worked the valves in prickly protest over the treatment of the ohlone. on “displacement and erasure,” alan ferber’s sinewy slide registered understated fury over gentrification that had, according to zenón’s program notes, been “brutally transforming” san francisco’s neighborhoods. on “sanctuary city,” jacob garchik, doubling on euphonium, led listeners on a cacophonous trip deep into the harrowing world of people hunting immigration and customs enforcement agents. the movement was the one with perhaps the most currency, considering the uproar over sanctuary cities generated by supporters of the incoming administration. garchik’s impassioned improvisation met them head on. rumbling restlessly amid the churn was the rhythm section of pianist matt mitchell, bassist chris tordini and drummer dan weiss. longtime associates in and out of zenón’s orbit, they functioned with near telepathic synchronicity, providing a steady undercurrent of support calibrated to help maintain the narrative. with ease, they guided soloists in and out of zenón’s multilayered matrix of polyrhythms, providing direction as well for audience members seeking their coordinates within the matrix. critical guidance and added dimension also came by way of david murakami’s visuals. in the movement “rush,” for example, randomly crisscrossing train tracks slowly filled the screen as the music gradually increased in tempo, seemingly paralleling the gold rush related population increase of san francisco that, according to zenón’s notes, “accelerated the population decline of native californians.” then, as the movements “acts of exclusion” and “9066” unfolded, the railroad tracks morphed into crisscrossing strands of barbed wire and newspaper style headlines appeared, heralding the legal prohibition of late 19th century immigrant workers from china and the world war ii internment of japanese americans. though the period of internment was devastating, the music hardly raised its voice. rather, it opted for a delicately rendered series of interlocking, untethered lines. floating endlessly and without resolution, the lines seemed to mirror the disorientation of detainees as their fellow citizens cheered their fate. “hip! hurrah!” so blared the headlines in reaction to executive order 9066, authorizing the internment. even as zenón hinted at a more hopeful future with the buoyant “powers of community”   a movement, he wrote, that had originally ended the suite with a portrayal of “communities coming together”   that bit of narrative had its dry moments of ironic dissonance. and, in between the sfjazz performance and the recording session, he received a chamber music america grant that allowed him to pick up where he had left off. the result was a kind of coda, “golden.” the coda had as much straightahead drive and heated trading as any movement. musical themes from earlier in the suite reappeared, reaching back to the six note figure introduced in “sacred land.” but the tone was hardly wistful. the recapitulations mutated, doubled back and mutated again. an enigmatic image of shimmering pellets populated the screen, harmonic discord filled the musical front line and the screen faded to black   all told, a bracing dose of reality on a cold new york night in november 2024. db “this guy had his own language,” forman said of guitarist grant green. “wes was the same way.” at this summer’s healdsburg jazz festival, guitarist/racanteur extraordinaire bruce forman sat down for a live blindfold test following his one man show called “the red guitar.” extremely insightful and always entertaining, a number of his remarks parallel points he made during performance. this was forman’s first blindfold test, which was published in the november 2024 issue of downbeat and appears here with some additional cuts included. bobby hutcherson “un poco loco” (un poco loco, columbia, 1979) bobby hutcherson, vibraphone and marimba; george cables, piano; john abercrombie, guitar; chuck domanico, bass; peter erskine, drums. it sounds like bobby hutcherson, a person that i sat and listened to growing up my whole life. i’m lucky to have grown up in san francisco. actually, i would say san francisco has as much to do with me being a jazz musician as any other thing. being there when bobby was there, joe henderson and woody shaw and the keystone korner and, of course, el matador   but really, the keystone korner was my post high school time. hearing for six nights in a row people like max roach, elvin jones, bobby, mccoy [tyner], george benson. it was my church. it was my school. it was my sanctuary. it was everything for me. i believe that’s great. listen to bobby. is there anybody more free? i mean, beyond the craziness of the instruments he plays   marimba and vibes. as a human being, that’s what i was striving to be and i’m still striving to be. i am glad to say he was a great friend of mine and i miss him dearly. barney kessel “’round midnight” (spontaneous combustion, contemporary, 1987) monty alexander, piano; barney kessel, guitar; john clayton, bass; jeff hamilton, drums. barney kessel, of course. i have a big story of this song within myself, and like i say, i have that guitar. and this is a really good time for barney. this is when he was really on his chops. all his ideas were so clear. the epitome of thoughtful, motific playing, but still swinging and letting the magic happen, too. it’s weird ... sometimes when you’re thoughtful, you’re overthinking, and the jazz is in the letting go part. but there’s still the musicality part of the motific extensions. my experience with him was, we used to play together and each of us would play a solo bass. i played this song for my solo, and after i played it, he loved it. he said, “bruce, that was great ... but do you think if thelonious monk was a guitar player, he would have played this in e flat minor?”   which is all the black keys. i said, “no.” he says, “what key would he have played it in?” i said, “probably d minor or e minor. it’s a guitar.” he said, “why don’t you play a chorus of it in e minor? let’s see what you get.” it was in front of all these people. i must have been 20 years old. the first phrase i played, “boo boo boo, di da,” all the harmonics just came to me. i still do that to this day. jimmy raney “anthropology” (live in tokyo, xanadu, 1976) raney, guitar; sam jones, bass; leroy williams, drums. i don’t know who it is. [afterwards] amazing chops, great vocabulary. i wouldn’t say that this is the best representation of jimmy raney’s playing, in my opinion. he’s a great influence on me. i loved the way ... he got bebop about as good as any guitar player ever did, in my opinion. on this recording, he seems to be playing really close to the bridge, which shortens the length of the notes, so it makes them a little bit more staccato than legato. so like the bebop phrase we hear, it’s got a brokenness to it, which is why i couldn’t hear jimmy in there mostly   it was just that. russell malone/ray brown “little darlin’” (some of my best friends are ... guitarists, telarc, 2000) malone, guitar; brown, bass; geoffrey keezer, piano; kareem riggins, drums. this is russell malone. this is so sweet. it’s so beautiful. first thing i noticed, though, was ray brown, even before russell. what can you say about ray? just the tree of jazz. he’s one part of the trunk. the roots. i’m so grateful to have known him and played with him. russell sounds great on this. this is a song we played a lot when i played with him. he was into arrangements, but he wasn’t into playing. we had to make them up on the spot. we’d get together before the gig. “let’s do it this way, let’s do this.” on the record date that i’m on with him, it was that way: “at the beginning, let’s do this, let’s do that.” a man who had the swinging and the blowing down, so he had a lot of bandwidth left for the presentation of the music and how to properly frame it. grant green “i’m an old cowhand” (talkin’ about, blue note, 1965) green, guitar; larry young, hammond b 3; elvin jones, drums. this is grant. you can hear how he’s closer to the bridge and how his notes are so defined. this motherfucker swings like nobody, in my opinion. that shorter note thing that you get from being close to the bridge is so perfect. the craziest thing is, he’s not playing those long words and phrases. this guy had his own language. wes was the same way. this is just so rhythmic. everything’s built on short notes   that’s what makes it so rhythmic. i know this cut. i’ve forgotten the sidemen. [afterwards] this is the weirdest thing. i’m here to embarrass myself. of course, nobody ever saw these three guys. i was very aware of this record. i loved way out west, and i’m kind of a cowboy. jim hall/tom harrell “dream steps” (dialogue, telarc, 1995) hall, guitar; tom harrell, trumpet; scott colley, bass; andy watson, drums. jim hall. but there’s a thing to this. ... of course, the treatment of the tune is so cool. this guy triggered a whole seismic shift in the way the guitar is played in jazz. guys like bill frisell and julian [lage], you can trace their lineage straight back to jim, and it’s kind of reverberated so much, the length of the phrases. i love this. i’m really into this kind of shit. of course, tom harrell, who i knew, is an interesting human being. i haven’t talked to him in years. this is some really thoughtful, beautiful music. vibey. and jim brought that into the world. the records by him and paul desmond kind of defined another way to play this music. like i say, there’s so much music, the direct lineage that came out of this. what a genius. and what a sweetheart he was. you can hear it in his playing. the music is a reflection of the human playing it. barney and ray were all about that, too. you are who you are and what you dig, your aesthetic, your experience. it’s your responsibility to do that, and why i’m doing what i’m doing now is a lot of their fault. julian lage/bill frisell “chavez” (view with a room, blue note, 2022) lage, guitar, composer; frisell, guitar; jorge roeder, bass; dave king, drums. i’m hearing julian. i’m not putting it down by saying it’s cute. there’s a cuteness to this vibe and cuteness in this group. it reminds me of some of the surf music that i grew up listening to. you can hear again a lot of jim’s influence on there, but you can also hear the back by the bridge sound, too. julian is a freak. i love that guy. i think he got a lesson from me when he was 7 or something. he was from here in santa rosa, and i was down in san francisco, and we played a lot of gigs together when he was a pre teen. he’s always been the most enthusiastic, studious, sweet spirit. of course, i don’t think there’s a thing he couldn’t do. here it sounds a second guitar is in there   but julian does sound like two guitars. [afterwards] julian was definitely the dominant force in there, as he often is when he’s playing. bill frisell is another person who created their own vocabulary for the music. he has a signature. it’s the biggest compliment i think you can give anybody, when someone has their own language and it works and it’s brilliant. regardless of aesthetic. that’s the nature of jazz. that’s really what we all strive for. bill, i’d say, is one of the major innovators, particularly for my instrument, in the last couple of decades. pat metheny “giant steps” (1999 2000, ecm, 2000) metheny, guitar; larry grenadier, bass; bill stewart, drums. it sounded like somebody who sounded like pat metheny   and then it was obviously pat metheny. there’s kind of a giveaway phrase, a pet phrase he likes. that one right there   a chromatic thing. i would say that he probably got that from a phrase miles always used to play in the 1960s, and it lays really well on the guitar. it seems to be a trademark. i mean, it’s how i knew it wasn’t a pat copyist and it was a pat. the authenticity of the way he played that phrase gave it up to me. i’ve never talked to him about it, but i have a feeling that what inspired that was actually miles. of course, pat metheny has done more for jazz guitar than anybody. he’s a god. i just saw his solo tour. my “red guitar” show is really physical. i’m doing a lot of stuff, a lot of moving parts. what pat did with that show is ... it’s a hero show. he’s a hero. he’s 70. i was thinking about his hands the whole time, because he’s playing acoustic guitars and different kinds of guitars. he’s got integrity and genius. now, as a student of john coltrane’s [original] version of “giant steps,” i can’t say that i would ever play this again. i would probably dread doing it. but you notice he’s not talking while he’s playing it. pat martino “oleo” (live at yoshi’s, blue note, 2001) martino, guitar; joey defrancesco, hammond b 3; billy hart, drums. what i love about this recording is i can hear grant in there. i mean, it’s obviously pat martino. i’m sure he loved grant. we hung out a lot. i seem to remember talking about that. this guy is a machine, the way he could just pump out legato phrases, which is really more about the straight eighth note beat. this is how it swings. but he’s not really out of bird. you’re not hearing that flowing over the barlines use of triplets. it’s eighth notes. and it’s so eloquent. that’s like his classic lick. i can’t even sing it. he was really motivic in a different way than barney was. you know, if you hear something from that, you’re going to hear it again. he was different in the way he used motivic devices. he brought that to himself. he was a great friend. i remember the first time i played in philadelphia, i was playing with richie cole. for some reason, the piano player wasn’t on the gig, so we were just a quartet. so along with my first responsibility of playing all the lines with richie, i was comping, and then, when i went to solo, i didn’t have anybody comping for me. i was 20 at that time, and i wasn’t seriously comfortable in that way. i’m playing, and i’m kind of trying to do two jobs at once. i felt like a one armed wallpaper hanger kind of dude. i look up, and sitting as close to me as you are, at the bar, is pat martino. i wanted to die. pat was so gracious. we became really good friends. (now you see how he’s playing the repeating ideas.) the drummer is playing great. the organist isn’t joey, is it? i wonder who the drummer is. [you’ve recorded with him.] that whittles it down to about 80 people. oh, billy hart. you can hear billy because of his snare drum. he likes a real high pitched snare drum, but he’s not really playing the snare much. he’s swinging his ass off. he sounds so good. [drum solo] now i probably would recognize him. there! but he sounds so good. jabali has always been the biggest inspiration, back to the keystone days when he came to town with various bands. i never stop loving him. kurt rosenwinkel “punjab” (angels abound, heartcore, 2020) rosenwinkel, guitar; dario deidda, bass guitar; greg hutchinson, drums. that’s so pretty. this person has the ability to blow into the guitar. that way you get a sustain. because the thing about the guitar is it decays. for those of us who emulate charlie parker and trane and lester young   they could play a long note. everything we play falls off the table. so the best way to try and do that on the guitar, if you’re playing an acoustic guitar and not a synth, is to play lighter, or let thomas edison help a little bit   the electricity. if you hit a note hard on the guitar, it decays quickly, but if you kind of hit it in the mid range, it will last longer. that means you have to really have a lot of dynamic control with your right hand. of course, the notes that are supporting that have to be softer. it’s a real dance with physics. because of the sheer mastery of what’s going on, i’d say it’s kurt rosenwinkel. but it’s coming, to me, out of john abercrombie. did you ever hear that timeless record john did for ecm, with jan hammer and jack dejohnette? obviously, kurt plays more stuff and has a lot more control of the instrument than john did, in my opinion. a brilliant cat. another one of those guys that has his own language. but the vibe of this really is bringing me back to those days in my bedroom listening to john abercrombie’s timeless record. i suggest you revisit it, because it’s an amazing record. i loved john. winky. again, the winky virus. to me, it’s the highest compliment you could give to anybody, is that you just have that effect on the language and the evolution of the music. db the “blindfold test” is a listening test that challenges the featured artist to discuss and identify the music and musicians who performed on selected recordings. the artist is then asked to rate each tune using a 5 star system. no information is given to the artist prior to the test. dkv trio’s combination of high energy, quick change ups and soul shouting melody was a crowd favorite. music unlimited has been held annually since 1987 in wels, austria. the city elections of the past decade have placed it on the leading edge of the country’s populist, right wing politics, but the festival operates in opposition to the town’s prevailing milieu. as ken vandermark, the chicagoan reedist, improviser and composer who is the festival’s guest curator for 2024, said from the stage, “culture is the trojan horse.” the fest’s earliest editions hosted european free improvisers. but in keeping with its name, it has since welcomed practitioners of jazz, electronic, rock and less categorizable musical methods. they are united by an openness to improvisational methods and a commitment to challenging status quo methodologies and mindsets. musicians from different ensembles often collaborate with each other during the three day festival, fostering a palpable spirit of community building. this year’s program, which took place nov. 8 10, was entitled “the future in both directions.” its 21 sets presented a dialectic of veteran musicians, some of whom have been active since the 1960s, and present innovators. they came from the united states, europe, central america and japan. some presented established ensembles, including vandermark’s dkv trio, sten sandell and mats gustafsson’s gush (third member raymond strid was sidelined by medical issues), the nate woolley/paul lytton duo, reedist/vocalist akira sakata’s trio arashi and the ex, a 45 year old punk+ quartet. but first time encounters that explored connections between jazz, classical, electro acoustic improvisation and sound poetry constituted one third of the entire program. vandermark selected long time collaborators, musicians who have inspired him to reevaluate his practice, and four of his own projects. the 30 year old dkv trio, with bassist kent kessler and drummer hamid drake, is his longest running band. their totally improvised combination of high energy, quick change ups and soul shouting melody proved a crowd favorite. fresh off the road, the young musicians in edition redux, his newest touring combo, navigated the complex transitions of vandermark’s multi segmented, r&b tinged compositions with impressive facility. a brief, bruising improvisation with guitarist terrie ex and painter emma fischer drew the audience into venue’s chilly courtyard. but the most powerful emotional charge came from his duo with poughkeepsie, new york based multi instrumentalist joe mcphee, who had just turned 85. they alternated between brief, free form exchanges between their horns; mcphee’s spoken musings upon the inspiration of john coltrane, ornette coleman and james baldwin, and the challenge of finding one’s own creative path; and vandermark’s lyrical, deeply reverential clarinet solos. austrian pianist elisabeth harnik and american electric guitarist joe morris are both uncompromisingly virtuosic soloists, but together, they were generous with space as they matched conventional and extended techniques. octogenarian dutch drummer han bennink and danish alto saxophonist mette rasmussen exuded good nature challenge as they ranged freely from pre bebop swing to robust free play with a generous helping of bennink’s comedic mugging. and the complex, constantly morphing soundscape that chicago based electronic musician damon locks and austrian drummer didi kern fashioned out of provocative samples and mercurially changing grooves was a revelatory synthesis of political and rhythmic consciousness. the low countries were well represented. belgian trio g a b b r o offered an exquisitely balanced combination of stylistic and sonic elements. the compositions of hanne de backer, who plays baritone saxophone and bass clarinet with fluent restraint, showcased keyboardist andreas bral’s ability to move seamlessly between modern jazz moods, classical gestures and prog textures while drummer raf vertessen’s low key but restless drumming rearranged the rudiments in constantly surprising ways. and the ex, a multinational quartet that was originally founded in holland’s punk rock squat scene, delivered wildness and commitment wherever they turned up, which was often. two of their guitarists faced off with drummers bennink and drake in a jagged improvisation that literally drew blood when a dislodged fret sliced terrie ex’s finger. all three of the band’s guitarists joined paal nilssen love’s circus, upping the razor edged instability to that band’s anarchic dismantling and reassembly of song form. and on the last night they played a set of new songs that use open ended riffing, jagged guitar textures and a volcanic guest horn section consisting of rasmussen, de backer, gustafsson and vandermark to articulate skeptical sentiments. but while theirs was the last concert on the schedule, a short surprise set by drummer maria portugal and cellist paula sanchez closed the concert with a final blast of impassioned, feedback laced catharsis. db “i treat every day like it’s thanksgiving,” said roy haynes. powerhouse jazz drummer and bandleader roy haynes died tuesday in nassau county, new york. he was 99. one of the few remaining figures from jazz’s bebop revolution, haynes long résumé included bandstand associations from the late 1940s and early 1950s with legendary artists like lester young, bud powell, thelonious monk, miles davis and sarah vaughan. haynes was the recipient of many awards and honors throughout his career, including a grammy lifetime achievement award, france’s chevalier de l’ordre des arts et des letttres, the danish jazzpar award, numerous downbeat awards and induction into the magazine’s hall of fame in 2004, plus apropos recognition in 1960 from esquire as one of the best dressed men in america. even as an octogenarian and nonagenarian, haynes maintained a touring and recording schedule. for his 85th birthday, he celebrated the milestone with a stretch of shows at the blue note jazz club in manhattan, the dates spiced with special guests like piano great chick corea, who had engaged the drummer for his epochal 1968 album now he sings, now he sobs. more recently, in march 2018, haynes was back at the blue note with his longstanding fountain of youth quartet for yet another birthday celebration. remarkably, haynes was able to maintain his instrumental mastery at an advanced age. asked about his secret to such a long, productive life and career, he remarked, “truth is, i can’t say that i did anything different than anybody else. i keep truckin’. keep moving, maybe that’s it. make sure there are no dull moments. i like the fresh air and breeze in my face   i think that helps. and i don’t try to overindulge, although there certainly have been times when i did. i treat every day like it’s thanksgiving.” born and raised in the roxbury section of boston, haynes grew up in a musical family. his parents, both from barbados, were big music fans, and his father played the organ at home and sang in church. one of four brothers, haynes learned a great deal from his oldest brother, douglas, who was a musician and graduate of the new england conservatory of music, later to work with cab calloway’s sister, blanche, and her group the joy boys. in his teens, haynes started playing drums, and while in high school, he was gigging regularly with touring groups visiting boston that needed someone in the drum chair. many famed jazz musicians came from the boston area, and it was just a matter of time before one of them recommended haynes for the big leagues. in his case, alto saxophonist charlie holmes (formerly the principal oboist with the boston civic symphony orchestra) was playing with bandleader luis russell, and when a drummer was needed, haynes got the call. he moved to new york city in 1945 at the age of 20. russell’s ensemble was renowned across the country, having backed louis armstrong for a spell, and the experience of playing in a big band helped shape haynes’s style of being able to match his playing to any tempo and timbre demands. after working with lester young for two years, haynes occupied the drum chair with the charlie parker quintet from 1949 to 1952, and then enjoyed stretches with trombonist kai winding, tenor saxophonist wardell grey and miles davis during the trumpeter’s first years as a solo artist. there was a five year stretch with sarah vaughan, a recording with thelonious monk, and in the 1960s, he played with john coltrane quartet as the personnel was still gelling; later, when regular drummer elvin jones needed a sub, haynes was there. “when you’re playing behind other people, it’s important to have a feeling of what the artist leading the gig likes,” said haynes. “much of that comes from being a careful listener. sometimes you have to pick up that feeling right away on the job, then quickly translate it into the pulse, swing and sense of rhythm necessary to keep the music moving along.” as a leader, haynes recorded nearly 30 albums and co led several others, including question and answer with pat metheny, who remarked to downbeat, “i always refer to roy as the ‘father of modern drumming’… on the level of microscopic musical detail, roy has always had the hippest phrasing, the best feel, the magic component of heart and soul that puts him at the highest echelon of what one can achieve in this music.” among haynes’s many recordings is a life in time, a four disc survey of his long career during the evolution of modern jazz from the 1940s to present time. fittingly, the collection includes appearances with numerous jazz luminaries, as well as the hit single “don’t go to strangers” by etta jones before spotlighting the drummer’s solo recordings, like the early post bop classic out of the afternoon with rahsaan roland kirk, henry grimes and tommy flanagan; birds of a feather: a tribute to charlie parker, featuring roy hargrove, kenny garrett and dave holland; and his cross generational fountain of youth. haynes’s survivors include two sons, cornetist graham haynes and drummer craig haynes, and his grandson, marcus gilmore, also a drummer. db jazz journalist michael jackson, left, dispenses a live blindfold test to drum master billy cobham. drum king billy cobham, who, believe it or not, turned 80 in may, ruled the roost at january’s panama jazz festival. as the 21st pjf’s colon born laureate, he didn’t spare the horses, conducting a master class, performing in a panamanian super trio with bassist alex blake and festival founder danilo peréz and delivering a sold out set with his epochal spectrum 50 plus the stellar global jazz big band directed by guy barker. this was his first blindfold test, conducted at villa agustina, a hip venue in the heart of panama city’s picturesque old town. cobham responded with deep critical insights to a dozen drum heavy tracks. here are the edited highlights. allison miller “for the fish” (rivers in our veins, royal potato family, 2023) miller, drums, percussion, vibraphone; jenny scheinman, violin; jason palmer, trumpet; ben goldberg, clarinet, contra alto clarinet; carmen staaf, piano; todd sickafoose, bass. tapdancers: claudia rahardjanoto, michelle dorrance, elizabeth burke, bryon tittle, orlando hernandez. wow, i’m speechless … that sounded amazing. inventive, disciplined. they played within the sandbox template and everybody was in sync with each other. that’s the foundation for everything we do. a sonic portrait, including clarinet, trumpet, drums, that represented everyone in the band. pretty unique. 4 stars. yusef lateef “water pistol” (into something, prestige/ojc, 1961) lateef, tenor saxophone; herman wright, bass; elvin jones, drums. [hums “i got rhythm” changes under the melody] is the drummer philly joe jones? highly influenced by him and elvin jones. only sounded like elvin at the end. i heard all that chattering in front and thought, elvin? that’s different … . is that jimmy garrison on bass? the saxophone player, booker ervin? coleman hawkins? the mountain man, yusef lateef? 5 stars. paul bley/gary peacock/tony oxley/john surman “spe cu lay ting” (in the evenings out there, ecm, 1993) bley, piano; peacock, bass; oxley, drums; surman, saxophone. definitely not the art ensemble of chicago. it’s not don moye, although it could be … michael jackson: the drummer is a yorkshireman, where i’m from. billy cobham: really? i know two yorkshiremen. one is quite conservative and only plays drums, and the other plays more than drums, even sings, piano and guitar. tony oxley? what was nice about tony, he played with bill evans. they had a relationship that was unique and transcended different bass players. 3 stars. max roach “dr. free zee” (max roach + four, emarcy, 1956) roach, drums, tympani; sonny rollins, tenor saxophone; kenny dorham, trumpet; george morrow, bass; ray bryant, piano. roy haynes? roy had a handcrank tympani in the set for a while when he was with ludwig and experimenting. he played de dat, de dat, with a high pitched set of drums. he played very tight, what they identified as “snap, crackle.” he had an 18 inch bass drum that was a cannon, or it might have been 16  or 18 inch with no dampening   boom. if it wasn’t roy, who else? billy hart? [afterwards] he didn’t use the pedals, so he had three tympani, pre tuned. hmmm … jackson: what does “dr. free zee” mean to you? cobham: that max is completely out of his mind, even in death! [laughter] he always had these titles, amazing. 5 stars. chico hamilton “my panamanian friend” (my panamanian friend the music of eric dolphy, soul note, 1994) hamilton, drums; eric person, flute, alto saxophone; kenny davis, bass; cary de negris, guitar. that’s a hard one, i heard art blakey, max, a little bit of tony [williams]. i thought i heard me at first. i thought, “my god, i hope i don’t embarrass myself.” the bass drum sounds like he’s playing with papa joe jones’ powder puff beater, but no. jackson: it’s dedicated to another panamanian, eric dolphy, and the drummer played with him in 1958 in the movie jazz on a summer’s day. how many stars? cobham: chico hamilton? not many, i’m not impressed by that. dafnis prieto big band “the triumphant journey” (back to the sunset, dafnison, 2018) prieto, drums; mike rodriguez, nathan eklund, alex sipiagin, josh deutsch, trumpets; peter apfelbaum, chris cheek, joel frahm, roman filiu, michael thomas, saxophones; alan ferber, tim albright, jeff nelson, jacob garchik, trombones; manuel valera, piano; ricky rodriguez, bass; roberto quintero, percussion. the arrangement has a very organic feeling. it’s not restricted in a specific tempo to a specific feeling or groove, yet at the same time, wherever they go, it’s very defined and then, all of a sudden, it switches, which is why i am laughing, ’cause i do that a lot. 4 stars. tony williams lifetime “proto cosmos” (believe it, columbia records, 1975) williams, drums; tony newton, bass and vocals; alan holdsworth, guitar; alan pasqua, keyboards. marco minneman, a very good drummer from germany? tony williams? i was thinking tony was the only player i know who could fill in gaps … supply a tremendous amount of supportive energy equal to the soloist, but not get in the way. i never figured it out, nor could he. that’s why he never told me. i was blessed to work with and beside tony. 5 stars. big sid catlett “rose room” (esquire metropolitan opera house jam session new york 1944, v disc), catlett, drums; art tatum, piano; barney bigard, clarinet; al casey, guitar; oscar pettiford, bass. papa jo jones? not chick [webb]? [afterwards] big sid. i only saw him on cbs or youtube. for me, catlett played musically. lots of stuff on the snare but that bass drum   four on the floor, boom boom boom, didn’t play a lot of hi hat. synchronization   he always played within himself. kept a sense of timing, not the time   everything was human, not robotic. he was also very visual   he’d do tricks with his sticks, but timing and phrasing were very important. db the “blindfold test” is a listening test that challenges the featured artist to discuss and identify the music and musicians who performed on selected recordings. the artist is then asked to rate each tune using a 5 star system. no information is given to the artist prior to the test. devin daniels performing with trumpeter julien knowles. “i kind of wasn’t expecting me not liking gentrification,” devin daniels says, stroking his beard as he looks away from the screen. the alto saxophonist is referring to his hometown of inglewood, california, only 12 miles from hollywood but seemingly worlds apart   until the recent construction of sofi stadium, home to the nfl rams and chargers, triggered a massive economic boon accompanied by a shift in demographics. “inglewood had its charm, you know? everyone was always black. now i’m seeing white people on intersections where i never would have thought. it’s definitely not the same, but i’ve gotten used to it. … there’s a whole foods in the ’hood now,” he concedes. daniels remains in familiar surroundings despite a constant temptation to relocate to highland park, the los angeles version of brooklyn, where many of his friends and fellow jazz musicians reside. he has come full circle, returning to the neighborhood where he first learned how to play the saxophone, a vehicle of opportunity that has taken him literally all around the world, most notably as the newest member of herbie hancock’s band. the jazz legend is still touring at age 84, and daniels, after accompanying hancock on his recent travels, joined him on stage this august at the hollywood bowl alongside bennie maupin, harvey mason, bill summers and marcus miller in the highly anticipated reunion of the headhunters, hancock’s acclaimed funk fusion band. just before that, daniels will have his own show at sam first   the jazz club located a stone’s throw from los angeles international airport (and not far from daniels’ inglewood residence)   to celebrate the release of a live album he recorded not long ago at that very same club. lesgo! is the latest in a series of releases on the club’s new label, sam first records, which seeks to capture and pair the inherently pristine sound of the space created by club owner paul solomon with performances by some of the best jazz musicians in los angeles. “paul and i have had the privilege of hearing [devin] across a variety of musical settings,” said dave robaire, artistic director for sam first and the producer for the label, noting daniels is a mainstay in many of the bands that perform at the club. robaire explains he and solomon “have made it a goal to document as many of the various jazz sub genres that are currently represented in l.a.,” and that “devin is a great example of that fiery, adventurous energy that’s been brewing in our city over the past 10 plus years.” daniels’ band is stoked with incandescent 20 something players, all from california: pianist chris fishman and bassist jermaine paul are native angelenos, while trumpeter julien knowles is from fresno and drummer benjamin ring from oakland. they are part of a tidal wave of musicians flocking to l.a.   not just for the sun and surf, but for bona fide opportunities to play jazz with like minded millennials and zoomers. lesgo! could be seen as a time capsule documenting the advent of another important chapter in not only west coast jazz, but of the evolving nature of jazz in general. in 1996, a classical pianist and organist named michelle love founded just lovin’ music studios inc., offering music classes and lessons to kids in at risk neighborhoods. through jmls, daniels would meet his first saxophone teacher, keschia potter, who herself discovered music through another inglewood youth program, finding success as a pop musician for beyonce, lady gaga, jennifer hudson and others. “keschia potter, she gave me my first sax for free. i held on to it for years and years until i bought a sax,” daniels remembers. “this program, it was basically free for black kids in inglewood … they had a sax, flute, trombone, trumpet all laid out and they were like, pick which one you wanna play.” daniels essentially chose his own destiny right then and there. while in high school, daniels received assistance from another program through the los angeles jazz society, providing him with free private saxophone lessons, including those from another altoist, josh johnson, who was in the ucla based thelonious monk institute at the time. “that monk class when i was in high school,” remembers daniels, “that was it for me, i was really wanting to get to that level.” daniels would leave l.a. for boston to attend berklee college of music, followed by a year’s study abroad in basel, switzerland, having received a full scholarship to attend the prestigious international focusyear program. ultimately, daniels found himself back in los angeles, in the very same program his one time mentor johnson had been accepted to. it was the first year that the monk institute was renamed as the herbie hancock institute of jazz. despite his prior training, daniels isn’t sure if he would still be doing music if it weren’t for the program named for his future bandleader. “i feel like the hancock institute saved me, because i needed to get much better for me to work, and i just practiced my ass off in that situation,” says daniels, noting that constant rehearsing with his fellow institute classmates was a rigorous initiation. “ambrose [akinmusire, current artistic director of the hancock institute] described it as like boot camp, in the sense that you’re just showing up and playing every day.” hancock himself got to hear and know daniels enough to want to keep the young saxophonist around a bit longer after he left the institute. daniels’ first gig with hancock was at the hollywood bowl, where the elder statesman paid tribute to his dear and newly departed friend, wayne shorter. daniels says, “it was the most important jazz concert that year: literally everyone was there. i got to play with jack dejohnette, ron carter … and then the tour, and then i’m playing with [hancock] again on the headhunters reunion. yeah, it’s not even subtle anymore, [this] simulation.” it seems that daniels has discovered the cheat code to whatever life simulation we are living in. “i feel like my career especially has been fueled on luck, you know? luck is a huge part of it: i feel like for every musician, just being in the right place at the right time is huge.” just like any seed needs to fall into the right mixture of soil, sun, water and fertilizer. and yet, those things will only work if the seed is good to begin with. what daniels has proved, over and over again, from inglewood to boston, basel and back, is that he was a seed worth sowing. db ​long before he founded the dc jazz festival, charlie fishman ran a jazz club in jerusalem called django. charlie fishman, founder of the dc jazz festival in washington, d.c., passed away on nov. 12. he was 82. born in brooklyn, fishman’s first major contribution to jazz was opening a jazz club called django in jerusalem. he began to learn how to attract money for jazz when he brought stan getz to the country in 1977, which became the basis for the 1978 documentary stan getz: a musical odyssey. he came back to the states, promoting the arts in houston through the jewish community center’s kaplan theatre. as his career grew, he formed a production company, charismic, and represented a wide array of artists including paquito d’rivera, danilo pérez, steve turre and dizzy gillespie. the dc jazz festival was a long time dream. after starting in 2004 as a gala event, the first true festival took root in september 2005. “charlie’s leadership, passion and tireless dedication to jazz transformed not only our community here in washington, d.c., but also the global jazz landscape,” read a statement from the dc jazzfest upon his passing. “his creative spirit, passion, energetic determination and commitment brought together artists, fans and families to celebrate the rich, vibrant world of jazz.” for more information on the dc jazz festival, and to see a full recap of this year’s event, click here. db lou donaldson was one of the originators of the hard bop movement in jazz back in the 1950s. alto saxophonist lou donaldson, the final surviving member of the original art blakey quintet that in 1954 introduced “hard bop” into the growing jazz lineage of classification, died on nov. 9 in fort lauderdale, florida, eight days after his 98th birthday. he had planned to attend a 98th birthday celebration at dizzy’s club in new york, but cancelled due to an onset of pneumonia shortly before, presumably the cause of his death. he had continued to perform as recently as 2017, when he officially announced his retirement. since then, his appearances have been confined to occasional salutes and celebrations of his long career. born in badin, north carolina, on nov. 1, 1926   when louis armstrong was recording his hot fives in chicago   donaldson grew up in louisville, kentucky, and began studying clarinet in his mid teens when the careers of benny goodman and artie shaw were at their peaks. he continued his studies at north carolina agricultural and technical university in greensboro and by 1945 was good enough to join the navy band at great lake naval training base near chicago. with the u.s. military segregated then, his section colleagues included clark terry, willie smith and ernie wilkins. it was in the chicago area where he first heard the music of charlie parker. he promptly set aside the clarinet and focused on alto saxophone. after the war, he studied further at the darrow institute of music near albany, new york, then moved to new york city by 1949. donaldson worked with hot lips page, and sat in with charlie parker and sonny stitt. donaldson first recorded in 1950 with charlie singleton, who led a small band that also included, during this period, other younger players such as jackie mclean, j.j. johnson, cecil payne and oscar pettiford. donaldson was falling into the key relationships that would influence the foundations of his playing. then destiny took over. blue note records, which had been founded in 1939 as a home for traditional jazz through much of the ’40s, began turning its attention to the modernity that was shaping the post war jazz scene. it began by releasing a few theloneous monk singles late in 1947. by 1950, the lp had arrived and blue note was gathering a repertory company of young players who would define the next decade and beyond. none was a star yet, so they rotated freely on each other’s sessions, not always knowing under whose name it would finally appear. one might be a sideman one day, a leader another, then a sideman again. it made no difference because they were all part of the same musical zeitgeist. by 1952 donaldson had been invited into this anointed circle by blue note founder alfred lion, who had heard him at minton’s playhouse in harlem. that spring he participated in sessions with monk, max roach, milt jackson, kenny clarke and others. finally in june he recorded for the first time with horace silver. the album came out that year as new faces, new sounds: lou donaldson quintet/quartet and was the first to be issued under donaldson’s name. in november he recorded with art taylor, gene ramey and silver again as the lou donaldson quartet. that session, along with two 1954 sessions came out as lou donaldson’s quartet/quintet/sextet in 1957. others sessions soon followed. donaldson’s blue note profile was rising quickly. he and silver, and now art blakey recorded together for the first time, again as the lou donaldson quartet. together they would find something they might have missed individually   a way to bridge the brainy experimental elements of bebop with the emotional fundamentalism that had made jazz entertaining and popular. soon it would acquire a brand name   “hard bop.” in february 1954 blue note set a live date at new york’s birdland with donaldson, silver, blakey and clifford brown. four sets would be taped in one night that would bridge that gap   “an innovative way of keeping things simple,” in the words of critic gene seymour. the music would hit the market that fall as a single 10 inch lp: a night at birdland with the art blakey quartet, vol. 1. in september downbeat’s nat hentoff gave it four stars, but concentrated his commentary more on the trees than the forest. “donaldson plays with more incisiveness than on any of his previous records,” he wrote. “… lou’s authority indicates a young artist of increasing importance.” volume 2 followed in december. but something new had materialized, something simple yet forceful. for hentoff and others, however, it was still too early and unformed to articulate. a few months later blakey and silver joined with kenny dorham and hank mobley in a cooperative to record formally as the jazz messengers, a name that blakey had used in the ’40s, though the lp came out under silver’s name. there would be many jazz messengers to come, but none with donaldson. the brand would become blakey’s, but the line between bop and hard bop would always have a certain float. meanwhile, donaldson, like the others, would find his own career path. by 1958, he reached 14 in the downbeat readers poll, but would be constantly eclipsed by the stardom of paul desmond and johnny hodges. from 1952 to 1963 he would remain part of the expanding blue note family and record often with silver and blakey in addition to gene ammons and especially organist jimmy smith between 1957 63. in 1958, he cut “the sermon” with smith, blakey, lee morgan and kenny burrell, and saw it become a rare blue note hit for smith. the associations with smith and organist jack mcduff grew his reach into a more funky rhythm & blues audience, so much so that in 1964 he left blue note for chess records in chicago and its associated labels argo and cadet. the commercial pressures there may not have been to his liking. some critics say his playing lost some its edge during the chess years. in 1967, he returned to blue note, whose stable now included another generation rising stars with whom donaldson perhaps felt more at home: freddie hubbard, wayne shorter, pepper adams, blue mitchell and others. he scored an unexpected success under his own name almost immediately with “ode to billy joe” with mitchell and lonnie smith. he toured europe often during the 1980s, returning in 1985 to participate in the town hall celebration of the blue note label, one night with blue note, in which he reunited with jimmy smith. among the happiest of his last records are two from 1999 recorded aboard a caribbean jazz cruise by chiaroscuro, one with arturo sandoval and nicholas payton. and mosaic records assembled an epic donaldson collection in the early 2000s, the complete blue note sessions (1957 1960). donaldson composed two songs that have found a place in the jazz repertoire, “blues walk” (also his theme song) and “alligator bogaloo.” among the awards he collected was an honorary doctorate from his alma mater in greensboro, tennessee, in 1983; and a jazz master award in 2012 from the national endowment for the arts. his last downbeat interview was published in the march 2014 issue, a conversation about becoming an nea jazz master conducted by critic willard jenkins. that interview can be read here. db pianist marilyn crispell tantalized in two very different settings at the festival. martin luther king jr. gave the opening address for berliner jazztage 1964, which was the first edition of the annual event now known as jazzfestival berlin. in his speech, he described certain qualities of the music   vitality, joy and a direct connection with the yearning for freedom. this year, the festival celebrated its 60th anniversary with a discerning look back over its history, a typically forward thinking program, and endeavors that acknowledged the ongoing relevance of king’s message, both in music and deed. john hollenbeck’s the drum major instinct played a recording of the reverend’s titular sermon twice through, accompanied once by hollenbeck with a trombone trio and again with a chamber jazz ensemble. and in this year’s opening address, which was projected by video, george lewis framed the music in terms of identity. the question is not, “what is jazz,” but who? the festival program’s answer was that jazz is international; there were several groups from sweden, a big band from japan and a host of multi national ensembles. it is open minded, as evidenced by the incorporation of dhrupad singing, rock guitar, club beats, electronic noise and diverse pop and folk elements into certain sets. it is engaged with its surroundings shown throughout the week in a project called jazzfest community lab moabit, where festival performers offered concerts and workshops in the moabit neighborhood, which has become home to many immigrants. and it is willing to deal with its history. the jazzfest opened its archives to scholars including lewis, musician/academic kristin mcgee and downbeat contributor john corbett, who presented talks and published articles in the festival program dealing with the jazzfest’s successes and lapses in matters of race and gender. the programming brought living history to the stage in the person of esteemed elders who are still contributing to the music. octogenarians joe mcphee and joachim kühn were inspiring in ensemble appearances with much younger musicians, and christer bothen made trenchant contributions as a member of vilhelm bromander’s unfolding orchestra. pianist marilyn crispell, who is 77 years old, played a solo set that was both rigorous and poetic. her presence on the berliner festspiele’s stage on opening night also attested to the festival’s commitment to proactively make history. jazzfest berlin is a signatory to keychange, an initiative to transform the gender balance in music. the presentation of new and boundary pushing work by kris davis, sylvia courvoisier, and sun mi hong demonstrated that inclusion represents not compromise but access to great music. the festival began on halloween night; what better time to hear an organ combo? but decoy, which includes britons double bassist john edwards, drummer steve noble and alexander hawkins on hammond b 3, is not your standard organ trio. the improvisation gives equal measure to the genre’s sonic signposts and their collective backgrounds in free music, ranging from bluesy gestures to erupting clouds of sound. they were joined by american free jazz, multi instrumentalist joe mcphee, who was just three days short of his 85th birthday. although his days of lugging an armful of horns onstage are behind him, his instruments of choice   a tenor saxophone and a book of poems   did not feel limiting. spry and styling in an ac/dc sweatshirt and red sneakers, he exuded mischievous joy and deep appreciation for his fellow musicians, past and present. his brief, pungent tenor cries dipped in and out of the trio’s roiling action, imparting emphasis and redirection; and alternating between lusty recitation and emotionally invested singing, he telescoped five and a half decades of loss, survival and artistic growth into the text, “how long has trane been gone?” this time on piano, hawkins also performed in the intimate a trane club on the final night with singer sofia jernberg as the duo musho. jernberg is gifted, with astounding range and control, and hawkins expertly balances support and contrast. their disparate set included william shakespeare’s “the willow song,” bacharach & david’s “what the world needs now,” and the armenian exile’s lament, “groung” (which translates to “crane”). they distilled songs to essentials   a line or two of lyrics, or just a melody   and then grew these kernels into sui generis performances that acknowledged the material’s pain, and then transcended it with the boldness of their improvisations. some of the festival’s richest music came from big bands and trios. swedish bassist vilhelm bromander’s unfolding orchestra extended the examples of don cherry and pharoah sanders, who used african, asian, and orchestral instrumentation to add color to charts that framed fiery solos. his compositions used dhrupad (classical hindustani) singing and nordic string sounds as focal points and weight bearing essentials. another swede, alto saxophonist anna högberg, unveiled a new, 12 piece large band, the extended attack, whose doubled horns, bass and drums were augmented by prepared piano, turntables and musical saws. she applied these resources to a set long piece called “the lonely sailor,” whose episodic structure shifted between hammer and anvil rock rhythms, pensive blue passages and bristling free exchanges between smaller, breakout subsets. and on the final night, the otomo yoshihide special big band combined visual commotion and tight execution to delightful effect. the mostly original set contained acknowledgments of rahsaan roland kirk and charlie haden, whose examples gave precedent for the band’s refusal of purism and humanist engagement. different ensemble members, sometimes several at once, conducted sections of the band, using visual gestures to draw attention to musical ones. the leader’s distorted electric guitar and electronic musician sachiko m’s sine waves added a prickly counterpoint to the band’s nuanced horn charts and muscular rhythms. when the audience demanded an encore, they were rewarded with a playful song and dance arrangement of a folk song from fukushima. joe lovano’s mystery trio showed just how free music can go without letting go of song derived structure and lyricism. pianist marilyn crispell created an unshakable foundation of rumbling sound and implicit rhythm which permitted the leader to unpack stark, patiently evolving lines in his incomparably sumptuous tone while drummer carmen castaldi played on a parallel track that rarely locked into what the other two played, but always complemented it. but sometimes it seemed that the real reason for the trio’s existence was so that lovano could listen to crispell solo; when she came to the fore, he stood near her piano, eyes closed while his fingers played open air, visibly transported by her playing. spurred on by a much younger french rhythm section, the 80 year old german pianist joachim kühn played lucid, torrential music that felt more like a new beginning than a victory lap. he shared an emotional moment with the audience, remembering how he had begun his career on the festival’s main stage 58 years before; they rewarded him by demanding more from him as well. and at the nightclub quasimodo, the berlin based group ouàt closed out the festival with a delirious bacchanal. originally a piano trio that explored the repertoire of elmo hope, hasaan ibn ali, and per henriksen wallin, they have transformed into an open to anything free for all. one moment, multi instrumentalist simon sieger chanted over drummer michael griener and bass/gimbri player joel grip’s raucous, afro caribbean rhythms; the next, they were a back to their roots, with griener unfolding bold, tyner esque passages over a fiercely swinging groove. to cap it off, they invited swedish saxophonist martin küchen out of the audience to lead the willing crowd in calisthenic dance moves. returning to george lewis’ point for a moment; who is jazz? jazzfest berlin 2024 showed that there’s a multitude of individuals reimagining the music in creative and life affirming ways. db pianist sullivan fortner is one of this year’s nominees for best jazz instrumental album. the official 2025 grammy nominations have been announced with a slate of 94 categories. here, we’ll focus on jazz and blues categories, including other select categories honoring jazz and blues musicians. for a complete list, go to grammy.com and the winners will be announced feb. 2. album of the year new blue sun, andré 3000 djesse vol. 4, jacob collier cowboy carter, beyoncé short n’ sweet, sabrina carpenter brat, charli xcx hit me hard and soft, billie eilish the rise and fall of a midwest princess, chappell roan the tortured poets department, taylor swift best new artist khruangbin benson boone sabrina carpenter doechii raye chappell roan shaboozey teddy swims best jazz performance “walk with me, lord (sound | spirit),” the baylor project “phoenix reimagined (live),” lakecia benjamin featuring randy brecker, jeff “tain” watts & john scofield “juno,” chick corea & béla fleck “twinkle twinkle little me,” samara joy featuring sullivan fortner “little fears,” dan pugach big band featuring nicole zuraitis & troy roberts best jazz vocal album journey in black, christie dashiell wildflowers vol. 1, kurt elling & sullivan fortner a joyful holiday, samara joy milton + esperanza, milton nascimento & esperanza spalding my ideal, catherine russell & sean mason best jazz instrumental album owl song, ambrose akinmusire featuring bill frisell & herlin riley beyond this place, kenny barron featuring kiyoshi kitagawa, johnathan blake, immanuel wilkins & steve nelson phoenix reimagined (live), lakecia benjamin remembrance, chick corea & béla fleck solo game, sullivan fortner best large jazz ensemble album returning to forever, john beasley & frankfurt radio big band and so it goes, the clayton hamilton jazz orchestra walk a mile in my shoe, orrin evans & the captain black big band bianca reimagined: music for paws and persistence, dan pugach big band golden city, miguel zenón best latin jazz album spain forever again, michel camilo & tomatito cubop lives! zaccai curtis collab, hamilton de holanda & gonzalo rubalcaba time and again, eliane elias el trio: live in italy, horacio ‘el negro’ hernández, john beasley & josé gola cuba and beyond, chucho valdés & royal quartet as i travel, donald vega featuring lewis nash, john patitucci & luisito quintero best alternative jazz album night reign, arooj aftab new blue sun, andré 3000 code derivation, robert glasper foreverland, keyon harrold no more water: the gospel of james baldwin, meshell ndegeocello best traditional pop vocal album à fleur de peau, cyrille aimée visions, norah jones good together, lake street dive impossible dream, aaron lazar christmas wish, gregory porter best contemporary instrumental album plot armor, taylor eigsti rhapsody in blue, béla fleck orchestras (live), bill frisell featuring alexander hanson, brussels philharmonic, rudy royston & thomas morgan mark, mark guiliana speak to me, julian lage best american roots performance “blame it on eve,” shemekia copeland “nothing in rambling,” the fabulous thunderbirds featuring bonnie raitt, keb’ mo’,” taj mahal & mick fleetwood “lighthouse,” sierra ferrell “the ballad of sally anne,” rhiannon giddens best traditional blues album hill country love, cedric burnside struck down, the fabulous thunderbirds one guitar woman, sue foley sam’s place, little feat swingin’ live at the church in tulsa, the taj mahal sextet best contemporary blues album blues deluxe vol. 2, joe bonamassa blame it on eve, shemekia copeland friendlytown, steve cropper & the midnight hour mileage, ruthie foster the fury, antonio vergara best regional roots music album 25 back to my roots, sean ardoin and kreole rock and soul live at the 2024 new orleans jazz & heritage festival, big chief monk boudreaux & the golden eagles featuring j’wan boudreaux live at the 2024 new orleans jazz & heritage festival, new breed brass band featuring trombone shorty kuini, kalani pe’a stories from the battlefield, the rumble featuring chief joseph boudreaux jr. best music film “american symphony,” jon batiste “june,” (june carter cash) “kings from queens,” run dmc “stevie van zandt: disciple” steven van zandt “the greatest night in pop”   (various artists) bao nguyen, video director; bruce eskowitz, george hencken, larry klein, julia nottingham, lionel richie & harriet sternberg, video producers best instrumental composition “at last,” shelton g. berg, composer (shelly berg) “communion,” christopher zuar, composer (christopher zuar orchestra) “i swear, i really wanted to make a ‘rap’ album but this is literally the way the wind blew me this time,” andré 3000, surya botofasina, nate mercereau & carlos niño, composers (andré 3000) “remembrance,” chick corea, composer (chick corea & béla fleck) “strands,” pascal le boeuf, composer (akropolis reed quintet, pascal le boeuf & christian euman) best arrangement, instrumental or a cappella “baby elephant walk   encore,” michael league, arranger (snarky puppy) “bridge over troubled water,” jacob collier, tori kelly & john legend, arrangers (jacob collier featuring john legend & tori kelly) “rhapsody in blue(grass),” béla fleck & ferde grofé, arrangers (béla fleck featuring michael cleveland, sierra hull, justin moses, mark schatz & bryan sutton) “rose without the thorns,” erin bentlage, alexander lloyd blake, scott hoying, a.j. sealy & amanda taylor, arrangers (scott hoying featuring säje & tonality) “silent night,” erin bentlage, sara gazarek, johnaye kendrick & amanda taylor, arrangers (säje) best arrangement, instruments and vocals “alma,” erin bentlage, sara gazarek, johnaye kendrick & amanda taylor, arrangers (säje featuring regina carter) “always come back,” matt jones, arranger (john legend) “b i g f e e l i n g s,” willow, arranger (willow) “last surprise (from “persona 5”),” charlie rosen & jake silverman, arrangers (the 8 bit big band featuring jonah nilsson & button masher) “the sound of silence,” cody fry, arranger (cody fry featuring sleeping at last) db “it was now or never because if you wait, wait, wait until you have some funding, maybe it will never happen,” barbara bruckmüller says of her ambitious new recording. barbara bruckmüller has a quiet tone with an easy laugh and smile. her demeanor belies an intense love for large ensemble music, and even larger projects. as she finished up working at a summer music camp in the south of austria last august, the vienna based composer spoke to downbeat about her latest grand scale endeavor, three views of a musical piece: a chain of moments  suite in five movements. it’s a stunning work, originally composed and performed in 2017 with her barbara bruckmüller jazz orchestra with strings, made possible through a grant from the austrian federal chancellery. the group performed and recorded it live that year, but bruckmüller was unhappy with the results. “we played it once, and i had a piano player in line, but it didn’t work out,” she said. “so i played it myself.” bruckmüller said, yes, she is a pianist, but focuses on composing. she wasn’t completely happy with the final results, so she shelved the project for a few years. after the pandemic, bruckmüller was pushed by friends and family to finish it. funding such a project is expensive. bruckmüller applied for grants from various cultural agencies, but they didn’t pan out. instead, she was able to get funding from her family. “without them, i wouldn’t be able to do it,” she said. “you have 19 musicians. you have to pay them. that’s the point, right? it’s not the recording of studio or the mixing and mastering [that costs so much], but you want to pay the musicians. you want to pay them and do this the right way.” with that hurdle cleared, she needed a pianist who could help bring her vision to life. in stepped cuban pianist aruán ortiz. “i met aruán a few years ago,” she said. “i know him, and knew his music, and we were talking. i told him about the project, and that i’m still trying to make a recording and looking for a piano player. and he was like, ‘yeah? what is it? what is it? tell me. tell me.’ so we got together and he said, ‘yeah, let’s do it. i want to do this. i like it. i like the idea, and i like the music, so let’s do this.’” that was the push she needed. “it was now or never because if you wait, wait, wait until you have some funding, maybe it will never happen,” she said. then, bruckmüller got another idea. what if she arranged a chain of moments suite in five movements in three different configurations: for string quartet and piano, for jazz sextet and for her orchestra, strings and piano? this huge, independently produced project just got bigger. bruckmüller booked three nights last february at vienna’s porgy and bess, where she’s had a long standing relationship, and she arranged the suite for each of the groups. they rehearsed non stop for three days, then recorded each version of the piece as it was played before a live audience at the club. the result is a three album set representing a breathtaking piece of jazz meets classical fusion where listeners will find themselves doing an “a b” or “a b c” test to compare and contrast the three beautifully crafted versions. “it was pretty fast,” bruckmüller laughed. “yeah, this was pushing. my husband was pushing me to do it because normally i would take some time.” recorded in february, out to listeners by august, the rush included being eligible for the new austrian jazz awards with an aug. 5 deadline. what’s not rushed is the music. bruckmüller proves to be a spellbinding composer and arranger. each of the discs has a beauty unto itself. the chain of moments quintet feels classical meets jazz, with ortiz and the string quartet enjoying ample room to operate and breathe. the chain of moments sextet feels more jazz meets classical, with its talented group of european instrumentalists, and ortiz digging deep. finally, the barbara bruckmüller jazz orchestra & strings featuring ortiz presents the majestic, large ensemble version of bruckmüller’s musical vision. doing three versions of the same suite in such rapid fashion may seem, well, crazy, but bruckmüller’s approach was also pragmatic. along with having the opportunity for the music to breathe in very different ways, it’s difficult to tour a large ensemble. “with the big orchestral formation, you don’t get a lot of gigs,” bruckmüller said. “it’s hard to get on tour. so, i was thinking, maybe, if i have this in a small ensemble together the way i want it, then i can bring my music to the people. i can’t afford going three weeks on tour with the big band. “with the string quartet, i get the classical people more interested, right? and the jazz sextet will be more the people from the jazz side and free jazz side. so i have two other options for venues.” now that the project is finished, bruckmüller is pleased with what her community of musicians has accomplished   a far cry from her nervousness back in january. “when it all started, i was like, ‘am i crazy? what am i’m doing here? like, really, i will never do this again.’” [laughs] now she’s on to the next phase. there is a video of the performances she intends to put out. and she plans to focus first on touring the string quartet version. beyond all of this, she released the music on her own bicolorious music records label. for bruckmüller, being an indie means embracing ambition. db john mclaughlin likened his love for the guitar to the emotion he expressed 71 years ago upon receiving his first one. “it’s the same to this day,” he said. in the aftermath of world war ii, the deprivations felt throughout the united kingdom were particularly acute in john mclaughlin’s native kirk sandall, a tiny village in the north of england where a munitions factory that had dominated the local economy was struggling to reorient itself in peacetime. but to the 5 year old mclaughlin, all that mattered little. a coal fire burned in the grate, his stomach was full thanks to his mother’s judicious use of ration coupons and, owing to her penchant for western classical music, the sounds of beethoven, bach and benjamin britten filled the air   providing a steady diet of cultural enrichment. so it is perhaps unsurprising that when a potentially transformative cultural moment presented itself, he was, despite his tender age, primed to respond. and that is what mclaughlin did when, sitting in the living room listening to the radio with his mother, he heard the vocal quartet near the end of beethoven’s ninth symphony burst forth. “something happened to me,” he said. “i got goose bumps all over my body. i didn’t know what it was and i told my mother. she was really happy. she said, ‘that’s music, real music. that’s what it does to you.’ i think this marked me deeper than i could have imagined. it might be the point of departure for me in future years.” those years have seen plenty of goose bumps raised   on both mclaughlin and those who have witnessed his mystical guitar powers applied to some of the most potent music of our time, from the swinging ’60s london scene of jack bruce and ginger baker; to the breakout bands of electric miles davis and post miles tony williams; to the monumentally successful mahavishnu orchestra, the pioneering shakti synthesis and beyond. “i wanted this kind of provocation, musical provocation,” he said. “i need it to this day.” now 82 years old, mclaughlin takes his provocation in smaller doses. though a short swing around india with the latest incarnation of shakti is likely next year, he insisted he has finally quit touring after the band traveled the world in celebration of its 50th anniversary last year. his recent public performances have been largely limited to charity concerts and presentations of graduates from jazz academies near his home in monaco. nonetheless, he said, the performances provide that bit of kick he craves. the young talent is abundant and obviously appreciative of the chance to work with a master. and monegasques are culturally astute: a recent performance with three of the most gifted graduates, he said, “was a thrill for us, a thrill for them and a thrill for the audience.” in between the performances, his contemplative side seeks the restorative stimulation of the natural environment. while the summer season was tropically wet   in fact, pouring rain on both ends of an early autumn zoom call between monaco and london nearly derailed this interview   he still managed to enjoy hiking amid the splendors of the ocean, forest and a 1,500 foot mountain abutting his home. famous for his discipline, mclaughlin regularly begins his morning with a swim and meditation. but his asceticism these days only goes so far. he uses only wheat milk on his muesli, but he admitted   with a smile   to “compromising” by using cow’s milk in his cappuccino before turning to one of his artistic projects. currently, he is putting together a live shakti album. set to be released next year, it will include performances recorded on last year’s world tour and will feature both classics and new hits from the group’s studio collection this moment (abstract logix), which won the 2024 grammy for best global music album. at the same time, he is working on a sketchbook. for the book, in which a u.k. publisher has expressed interest, he both draws likenesses of and relates anecdotes about people who, since the early 1960s, have helped, inspired or connected with him. “it’s a personal homage,” he said. “it’s fascinating because it’s allowed me to recapitulate my personal history and my musical history. they are intertwined.” that history began well before the ’60s, when his mother, an amateur violinist, tried to teach him the instrument. he rebelled and turned quickly to the family piano, taking lessons from a rap on the knuckles teacher who, in retrospect, seemed “a real monster.” by the age of 10, the teacher’s influence was waning as that of his brothers waxed. when the early ’50s blues boom swept across the universities in the u.k., the oldest brother, a university student, bought a guitar that was ultimately passed down to him. he was 11. “i quit taking piano lessons immediately and it was love at first hearing,” he said. exposed to blues albums by his brothers, he began absorbing that music’s language. at 15, now living near a larger northern city, newcastle, he gained access to downbeat, feeding his nascent interest in jazz. “to a teenager living in the upper reaches of northeastern england,” he said, “it was the holy grail.” meanwhile, his fondness for flamenco music was growing, and he began to skip school and trek 150 miles to a pub in manchester to see live performances by a celebrated exponent of the music, guitarist pepe martinez. “that was really another pivotal period in my life,” he said, “and i’m sure it manifested itself all those years later when i hooked up with paco [de lucia, with whom he formed an acclaimed trio with, alternately, al di meola or larry coryell].” he was also falling for spanish inflected jazz, courtesy of “blues for pablo,” off miles ahead, the 1957 album by davis with gil evans’ orchestra. his passion for that work presaged his later identification with a mindset that became a movement melding disparate musical forms. “what they were doing between this big band, the blues and the hispanic thing,” he said, “that’s fusion, jazz fusion right there. it just blew me away.” after stumbling initially at jazz   an attempt at negotiating “cherokee” at the expected breakneck pace with experienced musicians in a local pub resulted, he said, in “blood on the floor”   he recovered and his reputation as a teen whiz grew to the point where a touring musician hired him. he was on his way to london. “that’s what i’d been dreaming of for a year,” he said. he was around 19 years old. in london, he made ends meet with odd jobs like driving cars and selling caviar until he landed a position at selmer’s legendary music shop on charing cross road, a musicians’ hub where he sold pete townsend what he believed was townsend’s first guitar. gigging soon won out over selmer’s. at soho’s flamingo club he became a regular in georgie fame’s popular r&b laced jazz band. at the nearby blues venue the 100 club, he met eric clapton. players mixed after hours, and he met bruce and baker. when organist graham bond invited mclaughlin to form a quartet with the bassist and drummer   who would, of course, achieve renown with clapton in cream   he “couldn’t say no.” fame’s smooth sound, he said, was no match for the promise of playing with passionate   “sometimes over passionate”   musicians who would “push me out of what i know to what i don’t know.” and when that group broke up, mclaughlin signed on with the rigorous ray ellington, with whom he polished his sight reading. that, in turn, led to session work that was well paying but unsatisfying and, after 18 months, he unceremoniously quit. but he fortuitously hooked up with a couple of fellow northerners, organist mike carr and drummer jackie denton. they provided entrée to london’s premier jazz club, ronnie scott’s, periodically playing opening sets. that put him on the road to new york and an association with williams. the road involved some benign subterfuge. bassist dave holland, mclaughlin’s sometime roommate, played in the house band accompanying traveling jazz headliners. when drummer jack dejohnette came through   with pianist bill evans’ complete trio, relegating holland to playing opening sets   dejohnette set up an afternoon jam session at ronnie’s. holland brought mclaughlin. “jack recorded it with these mission impossible tape machines,” mclaughlin recalled, noting the surreptitious nature of the taping, “and that’s how i got the gig with tony. back in new york, tony was saying, ‘i’m leaving miles, i’m looking for a guitar player.’ jack said, ‘i made a tape with this guy in london. listen to this.’ and i got the call from tony. how lucky.” in 1969, the year he arrived in new york, williams, coming off his time with the second great davis quintet, was leading a charge among jazz players seeking to unleash their inner rocker. his answer was the incendiary lifetime, with mclaughlin and organist khalid yasin, then known as larry young. baffling to some and beloved by others, the trio’s tightly wound, highly volatile interplay signaled the emergence of an audacious new sort of collective performance rendered by a group of impossibly resourceful 20 somethings operating in fly by the seats of your pants mode. “we didn’t know really where we were going except that we wanted to play together and discover as we went along,” mclaughlin said. “it was constant learning and experiments. tony was pretty free with miles but with his own band he was really free.” the interplay’s apotheosis is arguably an 8 plus minute “spectrum,” a mclaughlin composition off their debut album, emergency!, that manages to project a quality both raw and highly defined. by comparison, the 3 minute quartet version on mclaughlin’s debut album, extrapolation, seems tame. both were recorded and released in 1969. like williams, mclaughlin said, davis was flying blind as the ’60s were ending. “miles was going on intuition when we moved into bitches brew,” he said. “he didn’t really know what he wanted to do. but he knew what he didn’t want to do, which was what he’d been doing for the last five years.” when the trumpeter sought to gain direction via the guitarist’s input, mclaughlin, drawing on his london experience, was happy to oblige. “i had been hanging out a lot with miles at his home in between in a silent way and bitches brew,” he recalled. “i’d always take the guitar over there. he made sure i survived. he’d stuff money in my pocket. and he’d be picking my brain about all the stuff i’d been doing in the ’60s with r&b and funk bands. “‘what would you do if i played two chords like this, john?’” mclaughlin said, quoting davis in a reasonable imitation of his raspy voice. “i’d say, ‘i could do this and this, and if i turned around i could do that.’” that simple advice seems to have been liberally incorporated in some of the most provocative jams davis   or anyone   has ever produced. for a time, mclaughlin played with both davis and williams. but he was moving on musically while williams was seeking broader appeal for lifetime. having met bruce through mclaughlin, williams hired the bassist and asked him to sing, giving the band, mclaughlin said, “a slightly more cream element. “tony wanted us to have more success. we were struggling. people were looking at us like, ‘what are they doing?’ and the jazz community, they were saying, ‘jazz? we don’t even know what it is.’ i was surviving basically because i was doing miles’ gig.” that gig came to an end as a full time endeavor when, after a less than satisfying night at lenny’s on the turnpike in massachusetts, davis advised mclaughlin to start his own group. enter the mahavishnu orchestra, which instantly became a juggernaut, revered for its technical prowess, to be sure, but also its transcendent writing and execution that, powered by billy cobham on drums, tempered with deep groove the complex carnatic rhythms and melodic systems it had assimilated. tablaist zakir hussain, a lynchpin of shakti, recalled that on hearing the first strains of mclaughlin’s guitar amid the disorienting swirl of sound on the oddly accented opening bars of “birds of fire,” at the berkeley community theater in november 1972, “my jaw dropped to the floor.” but the band, in its first incarnation, flew high only to crash and burn   a turn of events that, in mclaughlin’s telling, reflected the stress of sudden success compounded by the members’ differing lifestyles. “it was multiplying and multiplying too quickly,” he said. “and don’t forget by this time i’m meditating every day. i’m not hanging out. the other guys can do that. i go back to my room, have a salad and go to sleep and meditate. i was on another trip. “too much success is very dangerous, because it actually destroyed the band in the end.” among mclaughlin’s bands, none has had the longevity of shakti. it may not have been the first to mix western and eastern music: john coltrane most famously did so, even titling a tune “india,” off his 1962 album live at the village vangaurd. but mclaughlin has taken a risk coltrane didn’t by surrounding himself and documenting his work with indian musicians, thus subjecting himself to the necessity of adjusting to their culture of sound, even as they adjusted to his. hussain, who has been in the band since its inception, detected movement toward a full accommodation by their second album, a handful of beauty. unlike the first, shakti with john mclaughlin, it was a studio recording in which “we found a way to give back to john from our side of the world.” both were released in 1976. fast forward to the pandemic, and that process advanced with the 2020 landmark is that so? in it, mclaughlin, working with shakti singer shankar mahadevan and hussain, integrates a full harmonic soundscape with mahadevan’s raga based improvisations   “a dream i had for years,” as mclaughlin put it   in such a way that he fully asserts his western identity without compromising the eastern side. “there is no way any indian maestro would listen to shankar riffing over what the harmonic base lays out and say that it is messing up the raga,” hussain said, adding that the process of accommodation has continued. shakti’s impact is clear. pianist vijay iyer, who at 52 has done as much as anyone to reconcile eastern and western musical perspectives, said of the group: “as a musician coming of age in the south asian diaspora, it gave me a point of reference that was important. that stuff really clarified a lot for me in terms of what was possible.” saxophonist charles lloyd, a contemporary of mclaughlin’s who met hussain through the guitarist and has for the past two decades played with him in the trio sangam, spoke more broadly about mclaughlin: “john is a deep sensitive. he knows that we live in a world that’s gone mad and he’s looking for the right note.” lloyd, who like mclaughlin has been inducted into the downbeat hall of fame this year, added, “he has great facility but has a mind that can deal with the eternal verities in the sound. that’s where we meet: at a place where there is no space or time.” for mclaughlin, time indeed seemed to fold in on itself as he likened his feeling about the guitar to the emotion he expressed 71 years ago upon receiving his first one. “it’s the same to this day,” he said, “the love i have for that instrument.” db “at this point in my life i’m still looking for the note,” charles lloyd told downbeat last year. “but i’m a little nearer.” what can we say about the shamanistic charles lloyd that this magazine hasn’t said during the past three years? after being voted into the downbeat hall of fame and being honored as artist of the year, album of the year, group of the year and tenor saxophonist of the year in this year’s downbeat critics poll, the legend just keeps growing. the readers agree, naming the brilliant composer and saxophonist artist of the year, tenor saxophonist of the year and flutist of the year, while naming his latest recording, the sky will still be there tomorrow (blue note), album of the year. lloyd graced db’s cover in august for those quadruple honors. and he graced the cover back in october 2022, when he was in the heat of producing and touring his brilliant trio of trios project that led to him being named downbeat’s 2023 artist of the year and tenor saxopnoist of the year. more honors! what’s been on his mind during these past three years? here are four recent quotes from the magazine that give a hint. “i was always thinking about pulling the bridge up, you know, and staying in meditation and living a simple life. i told master [billy] higgins when he showed up at our place in santa barbara, before he left town [passed away] in 2001, i told him i had been fasting for a couple of weeks, thinking and meditating, and i said, no one cares about this music so i’m going to go back into the forest. he looked at me and said, ‘fuck them. we care.’ then we recorded which way is east [ecm]. master higgins gave me such a strong rebuke that i renewed and reupped my dedication, because these masters who come before me, they bring this wisdom of integration of life. it’s not for me to decide when it’s time to pull up the bridge.”  august 2024 “three years ago, just before covid hit, i had this naïve notion that i could bring some tenderness into the world, and these great artists were the ones that i want to serve this mission with me   jason [moran], larry [grenadier] and brian [blade]. so we sent out the call and it came back affirmative, and it took a while to get us all together because of our schedules. and it was very beautiful and very magical … but this idea of tenderness to the world i’ve always been like that, you know.”  august 2024 “at this point in my life i’m still looking for the note. but i’m a little nearer.”  august 2023 “i go hiking in the mountains and hills around our property, then swim underwater and teach myself to breathe underwater. and then i go to the pianoforte and have these fragments and structures that come to me, and i try to figure out how they work. what i’m doing is these fractals. i want to see where they belong   who they’re singing to.”  october 2022 db russell malone’s generosity with other musicians and particularly fellow guitarists was a personal hallmark. as russell malone is voted guitarist of the year by downbeat readers, his friends and fans are pondering his legacy. while the late bandleader and first call guitarist made twin impacts as a singular instrumentalist and a selfless member of the musical community, his other trademark qualities also cemented his beloved status in the jazz community. malone died aug. 23 while on tour in japan, after battling end stage kidney failure, at age 60. bassist ron carter, who was leading the golden striker trio with malone and pianist donald vega on tour at the time, issued a statement soon after saying: “mr. malone suffered a heart attack upon completion of our performance at blue note tokyo. donald vega and i are completing this tour as a duo in respect and honor of the memory of mr. malone.” “i really think russell malone was one of those generational talents,” said scholar, educator and tenor saxophonist loren schoenberg in a phone interview. “people like him don’t appear often.” born in albany, georgia, malone first explored guitar at age 4 and was playing in church two years later. largely self taught, he moved to houston after graduating from high school and played with organist al rylander. he relocated to atlanta in 1985 before settling in new york, where he played with organ legend jimmy smith from 1988 to 1990. malone’s profile increased when he joined harry connick jr.’s band in 1990. he played with the then rapidly rising star until 1994 and made a deep impact on the pianist, vocalist and actor. “from the moment i met russell, well over 30 years ago, i knew my life was about to change for the better,” connick wrote, in an email to downbeat. “russell’s musical brilliance, his encyclopedic knowledge of american music and deeply soulful, skillful artistic personality were unmatched. but what i’ll miss the most are his giant, sensitive, goofy heart and fierce sense of humor.” while playing with connick, malone recorded his self titled debut for columbia. it featured bassist milt hinton, who praised malone in the liner notes: “i’ve had the opportunity to record with many of the guitar greats from the jazz world   charlie christian, george barnes, kenny burrell, herb ellis, barry galbraith, barney kessel, mundell lowe, bucky pizzarelli and wes montgomery, to name just a few. russell malone extends the musical traditions begun by these and many other guitarists. “his amazing dexterity is evident throughout the album. his decisions to use an electric or acoustic instrument on a particular piece are impeccable. they show me that he truly appreciates the beauty of his instrument at the same time he is aware of its limitations.” the easy rapport that malone and connick enjoyed can be heard on that debut album’s recording of “i don’t know enough about you.” it’s a rare vocal showcase for malone, who receives expert support on piano from his then bandleader boss. the warmth and charm and slight mischief of malone’s personality comes through in his singing, with connick’s accompaniment alternately elegant and playful. malone verbally encourages connick as he starts to solo, and connick returns the enthusiasm as malone does his only playing on the track (tastily choosing an acoustic guitar). guitarist, vocalist and educator doug wamble’s life changed as a result of malone’s collaboration with connick. an ensemble director and guitar instructor at juilliard, wamble was introduced to connick’s music by his mother, who was a fan and took him to see connick in concert in memphis in the fall of 1990. “russell played a couple of solos that totally blew my mind. harry was taking questions from the audience at one point, and i raised my hand and asked what kind of guitar russell played,” wamble said. “i was a recording engineering major at the time at what’s now the university of memphis, and the next day i changed my major to jazz guitar because of russell. it was him who made me think, ‘maybe i can do this.’” after touring and recording with connick, malone then teamed up with another high profile vocalist/pianist, diana krall, playing in her trio and quartet from 1994 to 1998. collaborations with carter and also pianist benny green and vocalist dianne reeves followed, as did tours and albums as a leader. “i don’t think that there is a song that russell didn’t know the lyrics to,” said reeves, by phone from her home in denver. “and when you’re singing with someone who knows the lyrics to the song, they understand the interpretation. they understand you know what the spirit of the song is about.” reeves first brought malone aboard to record her 2001 album the calling: celebrating sarah vaughan and then 2008’s when you know, which were both released on blue note. she later formed her strings attached trio with malone and romero lubambo, her regular guitarist. “it was this hybrid of brazilian music and jazz, and i had wondered how it was going to work out,” reeves said. “but sitting in that space between two different sounding guitarists with different approaches, it was natural. there was respect for everyone on stage.” like connick, reeves also resonated with malone’s personal side: “russell, he knew so many people. he was just really good about being in touch with people,” she shared. “he could sit up for hours and talk to you about people’s stories. it was beautiful.” in addition to an infectious smile and an unimpeachable dress sense, malone’s generosity with other musicians and particularly fellow guitarists was a personal hallmark. “there are many great players who are wonderful mentors, but russell outdid them all in the sense of seemingly showing up at every gig of the players that he admired or wanted to support and also sitting in and playing,” schoenberg recalled. “he was just so approachable.” “wherever he was, he was always eager to get out and hear the local guitarists. he had a list of them in every city,” wrote ottawa based journalist and author paul wells on facebook. wamble’s personal introduction was through cold calling the several atlanta residing russell malones whom he found listed in the phone book: “i mentioned that night in memphis, which was maybe three years before, and russell remembered me. he was really cool and talked to me on the phone for like an hour,” wamble recalled. “and later, when i moved to new york, i took the path train to jersey, where he was living, and we hung out for the day. we had some lunch and just played tunes on a bunch of his guitars.” throughout his three decade plus recording career, malone released albums on labels such as verve, telarc, maxjazz and highnote records. he contributed to projects by the likes of natalie cole, rickie lee jones and joss stone as well as ones by b.b. king, ray brown, marian mcpartland and many others. because of his skill and openness, he was an in demand guitarist for projects as varied as late trumpeter roy hargrove’s afro cuban crisol project; late pianist/composer geri allen’s erroll garner project for the 2015 monterey jazz festival; and in june a performance of oscar peterson’s large ensemble, long form compositions produced by sfjazz. he was also a member of the monterey jazz festival’s mjf52 all star tour in 2010 with vocalist kurt elling, violinist regina carter, pianist kenny barron, bassist kiyoshi kitagawa and drummer johnathan blake. “the thing about russell was he really could play with any musician. i knew hank jones very well for many years, and there was something in russell’s attitude, something in his generosity and his dignity, that reminded me so much of hank jones,” schoenberg noted. “people would hire hank jones or russell malone for any kind of musical setting because they knew both left their ego at the door when they walked in and that their only goal was to make things better and also to bring a positive spirit to the whole thing.” “russell knew so much music, too. he could play the blues   just straight up, buddy guy stank, nasty blues. and he would have fun on the bandstand. he took the music, but never himself, so seriously,” wamble concluded. “every time you heard russell play, it was humanity.” a blossoming educator, malone had served on the jazz faculty of william paterson university since the 2021 ’22 academic year. it was his sole official teaching position, though the number of musical and life lessons he gave over his lifetime is immeasurable. db “there’s something to learn from every musician you play with,” says kurt elling. this year’s male vocalist of the year, kurt elling also scored the top spot in the critics poll back in august. he says he’s thrilled with the honors that have stretched for multiple years beginning in 2000. “i’m gratified,” he says, while in the midst of yet another round of performances and recordings ranging from singing with big bands to his newly hatched idea of spontaneous duo offerings in his wildflowers series. “it’s my heart’s desire. i like to keep busy. how’s that for being a kid from rockford, illinois, who grew up singing in the church choir? it’s crazy how far i’ve come to fall in love with the jazz sound and culture.” what’s extraordinary about elling is that he delivers a special melding of smart, poetic, romantic, cool renderings of music with a jazz sensibility marked by bold innovations of interpretation, inventive phrasing and occasionally hip scats. he says he’s still learning by deliberately placing himself into challenging settings. kurt elling will not go stale. “there’s a whole universe of music yet to be explored,” he says. “there’s something to learn from every musician you play with.” case in point: collaborating with north carolina based guitarist charlie hunter for the supergroup superblue, the covid project that truly stretched elling. he admits that it was a radical departure from the music he usually plays. “i was scared, but that tells me that i’ve got to keep going,” he says. “i never had as much to write my own for music that didn’t have a melody line i was familiar with or even unusual chord changes. it was a big challenge.” superblue started as a result of the elling team bringing in hunter to co produce an album that was built on an upbeat electric groove. “i always wanted to hear kurt in a different setting that’s not as acoustic as a piano trio,” says hunter, who has been a friend since their early ’90s blue note days, when bruce lundvall signed them both in the same week. “but i know that musically he could sing over everything. so i got together with my butcher brown friends dj harrison and corey fonville in richmond, virginia, and we made a lot music. we sent kurt a ton of tunes, and he wrote lyrics to create the final product. we sent him so much that a lot ended up on the cutting room floor.” “like so many people, i was depressed,” says elling. “even though we were in different studios because of covid, when it was over we were able to hit it right away for dates. that was huge. it was important for me to get in front of audiences to play this beat music, and i didn’t have to wear a suit and tie.” “kurt realized that he can exist in this new world of groove and hip hop beats,” hunter says. “i knew he was the guy to do this because, really, is there any other person who can sing like kurt? sure, it was a challenge for him, especially with a songbook that’s not the ordinary. everyone knows the standard tunes. you let them play themselves. but this was different. you have to be in the trenches. it’s a totally contrasting approach. still, he didn’t have anything to worry about.” the group recorded two albums for the edition records label, 2001’s superblue and 2023’s superblue: the iridescent spree. they toured the world for three years. plus, elling and hunter spun out their side project as the guilty pleasures with the first ep volume including drummer nate smith. “kurt said, let’s just go into the studio for a quick run through our favorite am radio songs from our youth,” says hunter. “kurt picked the tunes and then we made them new with funky grooves   music from ac/dc, fleetwood mac, the eagles, zztop. that was a lot of fun.” obviously never one to sit still for long, elling says sometimes the action these days makes his head spin. “this is a humble brag about this amazing day in new york i had recently,” he says. “i got up in the morning, went to the sear sound studio and did a spontaneous wildflowers, vol. 2 recording with joey calderazzo. the album took four hours. from there i headed up to lincoln center and put on my suit to play the last of my three nights with wynton’s orchestra. after that i went straight uptown on the 1 train to smoke and sat in with branford marsalis’ quartet. from there, we hung out, then headed to birdland to catch the last set by artemis. that’s a hell of a lot of action for a jazz singer. there it is. dreams do come true to have all these kinds of friendships and collaborators.” and the blur of kurt elling’s activity doesn’t stop there. after trying out new material for a live recording with wdr big band in cologne, germany, and an acoustic session with scottish saxophonist tommy smith at the akbank jazz festival in istanbul, he returned stateside in november and december for dates with superblue. in january he launches his ambitious weather report project of dynamic reinventions on compositions by joe zawinul and wayne shorter. expect lots of honorable tributes, but also get ready for the twists and turns that elling will surely put into the mix, lyrically and arrangement wise. he’ll be breaking some rules for weather report fans. elling also serves as the jazz advisor for the classical music oriented ravinia festival in chicago. ”i help hone the blade,” he says. “for example, i’m insisting they bring in robert glasper.” on wildflowers, vol. 1, like wildflowers growing from seeds sleeping in the ground, elling harvests a fine, colorful crop of intimate songs from yesteryear   dating back to johnny s. black’s 1915 tune “paper doll,” put on the standard song list by the mills brothers with their 6 million copy bestseller in 1942. “i have to have a mills brothers tune in all the series,” elling says. “the first vinyl i ever bought was a mills brothers album. i was either square or hip, but that’s how i heard a whole bunch of those classic standards. they swung so hard and had a mellow sound, and i had a fondness for their phrasing.” elling has always danced into many pools of music, but this spontaneous six track collection (really an ep) showcases his brilliance as a baritone vocalist in step with rising star pianist sullivan fortner   and in a guest slot, cécile mclorin salvant, on the gorgeous fred hersch/norma winstone ballad “wish (valentine).” the vocals/piano duo covers mumford & sons’ emotive “after the storm,” as well as strike gold with the mercer ellington gem “things ain’t what they used to be,” made famous by elling’s hero jon hendricks. “everyone out here playing at a certain level holds a whole new world for me,” says elling. “my goal is to play with incredible musicians to learn from them, to collaborate so that i can sing in a way that i wouldn’t otherwise. that’s what i’m after. i want to sing better. that’s what wildflowers is all about.” vol. 1 came about when elling and fortner happened to be in town in between their own projects. they texted each other song ideas, then met in the studio without rehearsals to create an impromptu recording. “it’s like capturing lightning in a bottle,” elling says. “or in this case, grabbing wildflowers. you cut a bunch of wildflowers, put them in a vase with water and place them on the dining room table.” for mclorin salvant’s guest performance, elling says he viewed her and fortner on instagram playing “wish (valentine)” as a practice session for the pianist. “cécile texted me to ask if she could come to the session,” says elling. “i told her, yes, but the price of admission was that she sing with us on ‘wish.’ that’s the kismet i was hoping for in this series.” as for including wayne shorter’s tune “ana maria,” elling says, “wayne continues to inspire. and herbie. with superblue, we did an electric twist on their tune from their 1+1 album, ‘aung san suu kyi,’ with my lyrics and retitled as ‘where to find it.’ one of my goals is to keep getting people to know the music of wayne and herbie. the world would be a better place. i’m a singer and add lyrics to discover wayne, it’s a win for everybody. so, of course i wanted to do ‘ana maria’ on wildflowers vol. 1.” vocalist tessa souter had recorded her lyrical version of the song on her 2018 album picture in black and white. elling wanted to “enlarge” her lyrics to add to her “initial trajectory.” he reached out to souter for her permission, then contacted carolina shorter for her permission to add more lyrics to her late husband’s song. “we were in the studio getting ready to record this when i heard back from carolina,” says elling. “she replied, ‘it’s a beauty. please proceed and we’ll talk later.’” the recent elling adventure with more wildflowers arrived in november as wildflowers, vol. 2, his surprising collaboration with pianist joey calderazzo and a special guest contribution from trumpeter ingrid jensen. the future holds a wish list for elling to pick more wildflowers with ih favorite artists, including pianists fred hersch, bill charlap and renee rosnes, for starters. the series will continue as schedules permit for elling and his admired guests. db ​joy says she has been “listening to melodies that would challenge me to sing in a different way than i would on a standard.” it’s exciting to watch a megawatt talent unfold in real time. when samara joy won the sarah vaughan vocal competition in 2019, she was still a student who’d only started scatting a couple of years earlier. today she’s an ever touring headliner with a massive online following and two grammy wins. but the most astonishing thing about her rapid rise in the music world is how her artistry continues to develop right before our eyes. in an interview with downbeat in late 2023, joy put forth a few things she’d like to try next. top of the list was to work with orchestration; this dream comes to fruition, she says, on portrait, her october release and third album for verve. this record   eight tracks of full band arrangements constellated around her rich vocals   promises to solidify her reputation as a front woman of extraordinary power. “i was inspired by big bands and strings and large ensembles,” she said in a call from the road last september. “but i wanted to have my own compact version of it   a little big band that i could travel with. and even though there are eight musicians on stage, with the way that we play together, dynamically, it sounds as if it’s a larger band than it is. i’m really proud of the music that we’ve recorded over the past year.” another of her goals was to continue developing the creative relationships that she’d formed with peers from suny purchase, her alma mater. two of these long time collaborators play on the record: trombonist donavan austin, who contributed the original “a fool in love (is called a clown),” and tenorist kendric mccallister, who arranged three tracks: “reincarnation of a lovebird (pursuit of a dream),” “autumn nocturne” and “now and then (in remembrance of).” it is with these instrumentalists in particular that joy surpassed two other milestones: furthering her skills as a lyricist and stepping out as a songwriter. joy has been writing lyrics since her first album, but these were lyrics to known solos, rather than complete texts for an instrumental melody line. she handles this risky task masterfully on charles mingus’ rangy, tricky “reincarnation of a lovebird” and barry harris’ romantic, mellifluous “now and then.” “i’m glad that i had the practice of writing lyrics to solos to guide me,” joy said. “i wanted the words to flow and not compete with the melody, because the melody tells a story on its own. it took a lot of time, and it was definitely a process. i wanted to make sure that i wasn’t just saying a bunch of gibberish over a beautiful melody, but that it all made sense, that the melody and lyrics were working together to tell the story.” joy pushed herself further on this record, including a medley that combines her first tune as a composer (with mccallister), “peace of mind,” and the sun ra/jae mayo composition “dreams come true.” from the blazing, gospel tinged original she segues easily into the happy swing of the sun ra classic   a most promising debut. these latter tunes also signal a deepening in samara’s choice of material. though songbook favorites have been her mainstay to date, the young singer is now looking to incorporate greater complexity into her work. “i won’t say that i was getting tired of standards, but my ear was opening up,” she said. “i’ve been listening more to jazz compositions, as opposed to jazz standards. listening to melodies that would challenge me to sing in a different way than i would on a standard. “mingus is obviously sophisticated and complex   modern, if you will. and the song that he wrote for bird has an insane melody that i don’t think i would have even dreamed of singing two years ago. it’s really such a beautiful composition. but i found myself getting inspiration [for this] from my peers, listening to the songs and albums that they listen to. with all of this inspiration around me, i started asking questions, and the music grew as a result.” this ongoing awakening brings joy to one of her most ambitious goals: to be a contributing writer to the new american songbook, alongside singers like jazzmeia horn and cécile mclorin salvant. “it’s pretty scary, because that’s one thing that i said i wanted to do   to write my own songs eventually,” she said. “i don’t want to rush that process, but i really want to strengthen that muscle. and this song in particular [‘peace of mind’], i wanted it to be an adequate representation of where my musical mind is now. it also was a way for me to get out how i was feeling about all of this success, for lack of a better word. all of this stuff that i wasn’t expecting to happen to me in my life   at least as quickly as it has. it’s been happening all at one time, and i wasn’t sure how to handle becoming an adult and, in the process, how to speak up for myself and communicate with people and make decisions. “writing this song helped me to verbalize those overwhelming feelings of deciding which path to go down. and i hope that it’s a perfect first song, one that people can relate to. [at first], i didn’t know how to finish it: i had ended it on, ‘sometimes you feel like giving up, but don’t ever lose hope, just remember.’ and i was, like, just remember what? so i combined it with the sun ra composition ‘dreams come true.’ it was a perfect answer to my song   just remembering that so much good has happened, that you just have to keep on going and understand that there is no bad, really, just lessons.” db for complete results of downbeat’s 89th annual readers poll, click here! quincy jones’ gifts transcended jazz, but jazz was his first love. quincy delight jones jr., musician, bandleader, composer and producer, died in his home in bel air, california, on sunday, nov. 3. he was 91. no cause was given in a statement from his publicist, arnold robinson, who said mr. jones died peacefully in his sleep. there are many ways of achieving great success and wealth in music. jones’ path to that pinnacle was as unique as it was unexpected and open ended. ultimately it made him the only musician in jazz history to achieve the status of an authentic entertainment mogul. his great gift transcended jazz. it was to see the difference, as he put it, between “music,” which he always held close, and “the music business,” which he mastered and dominated as no other had. starting out with solid b+ skills as a trumpet player and pianist in the early ’50s, jones realized that even if he could play as well as dizzy gillespie or oscar peterson   and he knew he couldn’t   that would take him only so far. so he bet instead on taking the skills he had and making them negotiable across as wide a musical frontier as possible. his greatest instrument was his sense of taste, his ability to read popular culture and his respect for all genres of american music, which he absorbed in a journey that took him from the poverty of the ghetto to an estate in beverly hills full of gold and platinum records. somewhere under that rainbow, he found a magic touch that made him among the most influential musical forces of his generation in the wider world of popular music. it wasn’t his music alone that carried him to the top. like duke ellington, jones had a quiet instinct for leadership that was implicit in his sheer presence and manner. it never required enforcement or coercion. in 1976 many of the most important figures in jazz, including jones, gathered in chicago to tape a downbeat readers poll awards show for public broadcasting. as the taping began to finish, this writer approached several musicians, including dizzy gillespie and james moody, and asked what their plans were for the evening. “not sure,” they would say. “we’ll see what q wants to do.” people followed him because that’s where the best action was. born on the south side of chicago on march 14, 1933, jones described himself as a “street rat.” “you want to be what you see,” he said, and most of what he saw was a world of street fighters. he painted a vivid picture of his life after his mother was institutionalized for mental illness. he lived with his father and grandmother, who was born a slave and cooked okra, possums and rats for food. he moved to seattle in 1940 where he discovered the wonders of the piano and trumpet. jones’ early tastes were formed both in the church and in the heyday of big band swing, which also provided him with many strong and proud black role models. by his mid teens he was a professional musician, playing local gigs and jamming after hours in the new bebop language. in a dangerous world, he later wrote, “music was the one thing i could control. it was the one thing that offered me my freedom.” he got his first taste of the big time at 18 when lionel hampton hired him on trumpet in april 1951. the big bands were fading by then, but hampton was still hot and booked solid. the constant traveling opened a wider world to jones, from the deep south to canada and, by the fall of 1953, across europe, scandinavia and north africa. for six months he sat alongside clifford brown and art farmer in the hampton trumpet section. it was with hampton that jones recorded his first original arrangement, “kingfish.” after leaving the band in 1954, he settled in new york and began writing “for anyone who would pay.” one who was glad to pay was dinah washington, an earlier graduate of the hampton band and now a major star about to do her first jazz album for mercury’s new emarcy label. suddenly jones was in demand, especially by many of the idols of his boyhood to whom he was now becoming a peer: count basie, sarah vaughan, clark terry and a boyhood friend from seattle named ray charles, with whom he would collaborate on atlantic’s genius + soul = jazz. he became musical director for the dizzy gillespie big band that toured the middle east in 1956, then released his first album as leader on abc paramount in 1957, that’s how i feel about jazz. jones had come up through the jazz world, which he loved. but professionally he was not eager to be limited by it. new york was full of music and he wanted to write and conduct all of it. he moved to paris in may 1957, where he was not confined to the typecasting that limited black arrangers in america. there he studied with nadia boulanger, french composer, teacher to leonard bernstein and the first woman to conduct the new york philharmonic. jones mastered the full pallet of orchestration and arranged and recorded more than 200 sessions for barclay records, where he served as music director while in paris. he returned to new york late in 1958 with a formidable resume but a reputation still rooted in jazz. he arranged basie’s one more time album for roulette, then assembled his own all star “dream band” (with clark terry, harry edison, phil woods) that recorded a series of dates for mercury, where he also assumed an executive role as a director of artists and repertoire. at the end of 1959 jones took the band to europe with a harold arlen show called free and easy. it was neither. costly and chaotic would be more accurate. the tour collapsed in a couple of months, about the time of his first downbeat cover in february 1960. the band struggled on through the summer, then came back to america $145,000 in debt. it continued to work through 1961, playing the newport jazz festival that year. “if there is a ‘real’ quincy jones,” jazz producer and historian michael cuscuna wrote in 1983, “it probably lies in this energetic midpoint in his career, when his band was his voice.” nevertheless, it would be the watershed of his professional life, the moment he came to understand the difference between the art and commerce of music. he chose to turn his passions toward the commerce side. from this point on, jones would maintain his profile in the jazz world increasingly as an avocation, although he always rejected such categorization. “people get all hung up with the evolution of this music and that,” jones told writer zan stewart in a 1985 downbeat cover story. “[they say] ‘you’re not into jazz anymore.’ bullshit. it’s all the same thing to me … . those skills enable you to turn on a dime. you don’t get hung up on the way things are supposed to be.” jones was promoted to a vice presidency at mercury, the first african american to achieve such rank in a major record company. his job now was to find hit records. jones understood that all popular music is sociological   a useful insight that would sustain him into hip hop. unwilling to be typecast to the “negro” market, he cast a wide net and found lesley gore. when “it’s my party” went to the top, jones became a hit maker. the calls started coming. in july 1963 he reunited with count basie to arrange his first album with ella fitzgerald, ella and basie, for verve. that project may have prompted another call he received in 1964. it was from frank sinatra, who thought jones would be the perfect architect to engineer a long standing ambition of his, a sinatra basie album. the result was it might as well be swing on reprise, the first of several collaborations they would do. nearly 20 years later, after teaming with lena horne for her broadway success the lady and her music, jones was ready to undertake another of his dream projects, a sinatra horne album. those plans didn’t materialize, but these close associations perfectly illustrated his strategy of leadership among the royalty of american music. in the studio jones was a collaborator, never an adversary. he listened carefully to what an artist wanted and could make musical fixes on the fly and keep moving. his efficiency and assurance in the pressure of the studio was a comforting presence. “frank was just my style,” jones later wrote. “hip, straight up and a monster musician.” he called the project a turning point in his career. when the astronauts lauded on the moon, they played quincy jones’ chart of sinatra’s “fly me to the moon.” and his work with horne produced both tony and grammy awards. sinatra brought jones into the inner circle of popular entertainment at the highest imaginable level. the power was so palpable you could see it. sinatra’s friendships with jones, basie and sammy davis ended jim crow in las vegas almost overnight. it taught jones some things about using power softly. he projected charm, support and love in all directions, and earned the trust of the mighty. but his openness and ease with people extended to everyone. several years ago this writer contacted him for a short phone interview on hank jones. after answering questions, he began asking others   about what i did, what i liked, who i knew. the conversation went on for nearly 45 minutes, after which we exchanged email addresses, phone contacts and practically social security numbers. that was my brush with the famous quincy jones treatment. i understood why he had such a vast network of contacts and friends. jones moved to los angeles in the early ’60s because he wanted to try film scoring, a field that no african american composer aside from duke ellington had successfully breached. he began in 1963 with a low budget sidney lumet success, the pawnbroker. more than 40 major hollywood productions followed, along with three oscar nominations: walk, don’t run, in cold blood, in the heat of the night, the italian job, bob & carol & ted & alice, they call me mister tibbs!, the getaway,the wiz and roots. success took its toll. in 1974, at age 41, he suffered a brain aneurysm that left him with a 1 percent chance of surviving. surgery fixed the problem but uncovered a second aneurysm in the process. there would have to be a second operation. with his future in doubt, a memorial service was scheduled, which he attended along with an honor roll of music and film stars. against deep odds, he recovered. in 1975 he founded qwest productions, which became the parent operation of his various records and tv projects. in the ’70s music in america got funky and black culture went mainstream. while making the wiz in 1978, jones met michael jackson, who was looking for a producer. jones saw his potential beyond his bubblegum history as well as his need for special handling. he decided he could do it. jones became jackson’s mentor and almost a father figure. when off the wall came out on epic a year later, it sold 20 million copies, a record for a black pop artist, and produced four top singles. it was only the beginning. for jackson’s next, jones auditioned hundreds of songs, selected 12 and produced thriller. what stephen spielberg had done for the economics of hollywood, quincy jones seemed to do for the record industry, which was to redefine the ceilings of success. by the time he accepted his grammy as producer of the year in 1982, thriller was about to become the biggest selling record in history. naturally, the next logical move was a partnership between spielberg and jones, now the two presiding tycoons of the entertainment world. it converged in their mutual interest in alice walker’s 1983 novel the color purple. it was jones who brokered the partnership between spielberg and walker that ultimately brought the work to the screen in 1985. she was reluctant to let spielberg do it until jones talked her into meeting with him and hearing his thoughts. jones was also producer and wrote the score. twenty years later he also produced the successful musical adaptation that came to broadway. ten days before the color purple opened on feb. 7, 1985, jones used his diplomatic skills and influence to engineer and produce one of the most famous confluences of contemporary talent in history   the we are the world taping in a&m studios, which brought together in one room a choir of voices that included ray charles, bob dylan, bruce springsteen, paul simon, michael jackson and 45 other stars of comparable stature. it was perhaps the most intense period of productivity in his career. by the middle of the ’80s, however, he began taking time for a few sentimental personal projects focusing back on jazz. in 1985 he produced and conducted his final sinatra project for qwest records, l.a. is my lady, in which he made space for cameos by jerome richardson, frank wess, michael brecker and even his original boss, lionel hampton. in 1989 he brought miles davis, herbie hancock, dizzy gillespie, ella fitzgerald and sarah vaughan together for his grammy winning back on the block album. and finally in 1991, after years of effort, he achieved his most impossible dream: reuniting miles davis with a group of his early classics with gil evans. jones conducted what would become davis’ final performances in a concert at the montreux jazz festival. in the ’90s he founded vibe magazine, which he hoped would be to the hip hop generation what downbeat was to jazz and rolling stone was to rock. jones was an advocate of rap’s verse formats and tried to see it in a line of descent from bebop. but the violence of hip hop culture disturbed him and made him advocate simultaneously for an awareness among young blacks of their larger cultural history. he was an active supporter of the national museum of african american history and culture in washington. in his later years he found the time to consider his body of work more philosophically, as he collected an endless series of awards and tributes for what he had achieved. these include 79 grammy nominations and 27 wins, the national medal of freedom and, most importantly, the kennedy center honor in 2001   where ray charles moved him to tears singing “my buddy” from the stage. quincy jones is survived by a brother, two sisters and seven children. db “mike’s an amazing talent on trombone, never mind on tenor and baritone sax,” trombonist steve davis says of dease. to say that michael dease is not resting on his laurels would be an understatement. long considered one of the jazz world’s most accomplished trombonists, both as a leader and as a sideman, he is deeply engaged in establishing himself as a compelling voice on a wholly different instrument, one that isn’t even in the brass family. always known for his hard bop/post bop lyricism, the 41 year old dease has one foot firmly planted in jazz tradition, and one foot in experimentalism. dease has two new albums, released within a few weeks of each other. with grove’s groove (le coq records), he not only pays tribute to his late colleague and mentor roy hargrove but makes a serious pass at admission to the top ranks of baritone saxophonists. on the second album, found in space: the music of gregg hill (origin), he continues to explore the quirky, experimental, sometimes humorous musical universe of a 78 year old jazz aficionado turned composer. a self taught prodigy on the trombone, dease entered juilliard on a full scholarship during its first year offering jazz studies, going on to earn both bachelor’s and master’s degrees. more than a dozen albums and countless side person appearances followed, including stints with roy hargrove, david sanborn, the jazz at lincoln center orchestra, the dizzy gillespie all stars and the big bands of christian mcbride, nicholas payton, charles tolliver and rufus reid. he has also appeared in smaller groups with artists including the heath brothers, renee rosnes, winard harper, bill charlap, claudio roditi and lewis nash. one of his collaborators on grove’s groove is veteran trombonist and perennial downbeat critics and readers poll favorite steve davis. they have been friends and collaborators since the early 2000s. “mike’s an amazing talent on trombone, never mind on tenor and baritone sax,” davis said by phone from his connecticut home. “his playing is extremely proficient technically, very soulful and musical. he draws from various periods of the jazz tradition, and he does it with ease. he’s a very expressive player: i just enjoy hearing him.” davis wrote the title tune for grove’s groove, a 13 bar blues that previously appeared on albums by davis and benny golson. the tune was dedicated to davis and dease’s mutual friend roy hargrove, in whose bands they both played. “mike asked me if he could record the song, but at the time i didn’t know he was going to call the whole album grove’s groove,” davis said. “i think it’s wonderful to pay homage to roy hargrove   all day long, every day.” dease is perennially busy: in addition to prolific work as a leader and sideperson, he’s a professor at michigan state university; leads the jazz institute of brevard music center in north carolina and the seiko summer jazz camp in tokyo; and teaches summer jazz programs at skidmore jazz institute in saratoga springs, new york, and the jalc summer jazz academy at bard college in annandale on hudson, new york. that’s where downbeat caught up with him via zoom. allen morrison: you started out as a saxophonist in your teens, then switched after hearing curtis fuller on coltrane’s blue train album. what was it about fuller’s playing that turned your head around and made you want to switch to trombone? michael dease: well, to me, he played the trombone like a saxophone. it reminded me of charlie parker. it was nimble and quick, deft, intelligent, witty. and it had this wide, airy, subtle, romantic, beautiful sound and tone … . i didn’t know the trombone could function on a level like that. those are the qualities that charlie parker, sonny rollins and sonny stitt had that captured me, and the beautiful intelligence that they played with. when i heard the trombone do that, i was just flabbergasted that it was even possible. the sound was so unique   it took me over. i felt possessed by a need to play. and i dreamed of mastering the instrument in a similar way. morrison: you play with lots of different ensembles; even from one album to the next, the personnel are often different. do you have a regular group? dease: i think of it more as frequent collaborators than a regular group. for instance, (drummer) ulysses owens jr. and (bassist) rodney whitaker are musicians who appear on multiple sessions of mine. when we do gigs, i check with them first because we have such a simpatico understanding of what we’re trying to do together and how to support each other. but there’s a whole cadre of other performers i love to play with … they bring out other parts of my musical personality. i love writing different music for different players. i love seeing how changing an ingredient in the music changes the flavor. morrison: your two new albums are very different: one traditional, one experimental. is that a fair representation of your musical personality? or is that oversimplifying it? dease: oh, my god, no. guilty as charged   that’s like autobiographical; that’s me to a “t.” i crave knowledge, and i love learning deeply, going down the rabbit hole of my passions, like the music i fell in love with: hard bop, the blues, funk, r&b. i’m from augusta, georgia, so i grew up with that sort of music imprinted on my dna   roberta flack, dionne warwick, james brown, sam cooke, luther vandross … . i mean, to this day, my two favorite singers are nat cole and ray charles. and then i heard the saxophone and r&b music from the ’40s that my father would listen to. that made me fall in love with saxophone. then hearing grover washington and “mister magic.” so, a song like “grove’s groove,” that connection to the soul of america and the blues sound being realized through the intelligence, the wit and the charm of jazz music   that’s what swing, hard bop and the “blue note sound” is all about. but i’m also a contemporary person. i live in the moment. so i’m influenced by everything from the ’80s and beyond. that leads me into experimentation and freedom in the music, into creating sounds, sonic palettes and soundscapes. and trying to laugh and joke, too … . there’s a lot of humor in found in space, the gregg hill record. in fact, the last 15 minutes with you is the most serious i’ve ever been. [laughs] morrison: tell me about being in the inaugural jazz class at juilliard in 2001. what was it like for you when you heard you got in? dease: it was utter amazement being from the south, coming from a place without a lot of resources, and having taught myself trombone. the news that i was going to juilliard’s first jazz program, for free on a full scholarship, was just … shock and awe. i was so grateful to my mentor at that time, wycliffe gordon, who was teaching there. in augusta he was a hometown hero; he left to tour with wynton. i had taken a few lessons with him in augusta on saxophone. i reached out to him, and he set up an audition for me. everyone in the program was an outstanding talent. they all knew way more about jazz than i did. i was playing by ear, and i had only been playing the trombone for about a year. i had just taught myself to read bass clef. i couldn’t read chord changes … . i needed remedial work on sight reading, chord identification … . i didn’t know any tunes or chords. for not knowing any theory, i had a decent ear. i have perfect pitch, but that didn’t mean i could play changes. i would have loved to have more resources, but i got to new york, and everybody was so far along; it really inspired me to get to work. morrison: the album grove’s groove is dedicated to, and inspired by, roy hargrove. when did you first meet him and how long were you in his band? dease: in about 2008, i was in my mid 20s, playing with jimmy heath’s big band at the blue note in new york, and roy was in the band that night. i remember i was taking a solo on his arrangement of [kenny dorham’s] “una mas.” and i must have played something he liked, because roy started hollering behind me, like, “damn! woo!”   that kinda thing. when i left the club, before i could make it to west 4th street, i heard roy behind me saying, “yo! dease!” and i stopped, and he ran up to me and was like, “man, you’re in my band. we’re gonna take the big band on the road.” we started playing at the jazz gallery and then did a month long european tour… . i continued playing with him until 2016. morrison: how did you pick the songs for grove’s groove? dease: the title track is something steve davis wrote for roy. it should be a standard   we need to recognize it. i feel the same way about some of renee rosnes’ and christian mcbride’s compositions. that’s also why i chose “minor funk” by cyrus chestnut and “the viper” by charles mcpherson. they are both great composers, and cyrus is another musician who had a really deep connection with roy hargrove. they’re not as old as monk, wayne and duke and those cats. they’ve contributed artistic masterpieces, but they don’t get covered much because younger generations skip them. so i try not to do that. “broadway” is an arrangement by rodney; it was something he played with roy. he does a whole lot on that with a very simple theme; the melody has call and response, it swings on the bridge, and there’s a lot of dialog and conversation. morrison: in addition to rodney on bass and ulysses on drums, the album has guitarist/singer jocelyn gould, trumpeter terell stafford and pianist bill cunliffe. and, on top of that, you’ve got this great interplay between your baritone sax and steve davis’ trombone. dease: i love the bari and trombone sound, too. talk about a joy   getting to call your favorite trombonist to play on your record as a trombone player. man, i can’t get over that! and he’s been like a role model for me, too, not just as a musician, but as a teacher and a family man. my dream as a kid was to be the next curtis fuller … . then i found out, there already is another curtis fuller   his name is steve davis. [laughs] morrison: let’s talk about the found in space album. gregg hill’s music is full of surprises   it’s very modern, sometimes even free, but sometimes it takes an unexpectedly traditional turn into the blues or traditional american music. does it remind you of anybody else’s music? dease: there are hints of other influences from great writers   he is extremely well versed in the whole history of jazz. he can hear a band and tell you exactly who’s playing. he’s interesting. he drove an 18 wheeler and did a lot of different odd jobs before he got into the computer field in the ’70s and ’80s; he’s since retired. now he supports jazz events in michigan, and he started a weekly jam session in lansing. his music is different and fun to play. the gloves come off with his music, especially when you have musicians like the ones i put together on this record. i wanted a chamber ensemble type sound with winds. [the band includes rudresh mahanthappa, alto saxophone; sharel cassity, flute; virginia mcdonald, clarinet; nanami haruta, trombone; jason hainsworth, tenor saxophone; matt white, trumpet; katie thiroux, bass; colleen clark, drums; kevin jones, percussion; and gwendolyn dease (michael’s wife, who teaches percussion at michigan state), marimba.] rudresh also played on my album best next thing (posi tone). he is so distinctive; he was essential to this project. and i’ve never heard the clarinet played like virginia plays it. she reminds me of a george coleman type improviser, but on clarinet. nanami is from japan; i think she’s really gonna be the future of the trombone. i play baritone on about half the record. one thing i thought about was where the musicians are coming from and what generation they’re in. so it’s really nice to have nanami, who’s in her early 20s, and bill cunliffe, who’s in his late 60s. that’s a really neat exchange of experience and information when musicians of different generations play together. morrison: i’ve heard you say that racial and gender integration in your bands is also important to you. dease: yeah, that’s super important to me. i like to assemble a band with different perspectives. i grew up in the not so recently integrated south. my mother is black, and when she moved to augusta, georgia, in 1977, she couldn’t eat at restaurants. augusta didn’t fully integrate until ’78. and the history of misogyny in jazz is well known. if there’s anything i can contribute to the notion that bands shouldn’t be all male or exclusive in any way, i’d like to get rid of those lines. bands play better when people of different backgrounds and experiences play together. db “she knows so many films and the lyrics to all the songs, so it was her idea to select these tunes,” javon jackson said of his muse, poet nikki giovanni. an unlikely partnership was struck on 2022’s the gospel according to nikki giovanni between tenor saxophonist composer educator javon jackson and the renowned poet activist whose literary career was launched with 1968’s black feeling, black talk, giovanni’s seminal volume of modern african american poetry. as the former jazz messenger and director (since 2013) of the jackie mclean institute of jazz at the hartt school, university of hartford, noted at the time, “it’s the first time i’ve worked in a collaborative manner. the project is personal for me because i come from a lineage of devout christians, and that affords me the chance to connect with that ancestral stream.” two years later, jackson has rekindled his chemistry in the studio with giovanni, who is the first person to receive the rosa l. parks women of courage award, a maya angelou lifetime achievement award winner in 2017 and one of oprah winfrey’s 25 “living legends.” joined once again by stellar pianist jeremy manasia, veteran bassist david williams and rising star drummer mcclenty hunter (jackson’s working quartet since 2013), javon and nikki go to the movies finds the saxophonist and his capable crew exploring movie themes that later became enshrined in the great american songbook. giovanni recites her evocative poetry on two tracks, delivering her steamy “that day” on top of an alluring bossa nova rendition of kurt weill’s “speak low” (from the 1948 movie one touch of venus) and her seductive “still life with apron” and romantic “i exist” read on top of an afro cuban take on sammy fain’s “love is a many splendored thing” (from the 1955 movie of the same name). “they’re love poems,” said jackson. “obviously, nikki has various poems. she has poems that are very far from love poems; poems that challenge the status quo. and so this is another side of her, and it just goes with the spirit of the music.” elsewhere on jackson’s fifth recording on his solid jackson records imprint (and 24th overall as a leader or co leader), grammy winning vocalist nicole zuraitis (for 2023’s christian mcbride produced how love begins) conveys a classy old school vibe on a swinging rendition of burton lane’s “how about you” (from 1941’s babes on broadway with mickey rooney and judy garland) and a dramatic reading of the jerome kern oscar hammerstein ballad “the folks that lived on the hill” (from 1937’s high, wide and handsome). said jackson about the direction he took on javon and nikki go to the movies, “there’s so many films that she loves, and she would come to my gigs or we’d catch up on the phone and she’d sing me lyrics to these songs that i didn’t know. for example, ‘i belong to you’ is a song i didn’t know from a film i hadn’t seen. it’s from the racers with kirk douglas. i watched the film, and that melody is in there throughout. and it’s sung by peggy lee, who i love. so it kind of goes from that perspective. she knows so many films and the lyrics to all the songs, so it was her idea to select these tunes.” the leader also contributes three originals, including the loping minor blues “theme for nikki,” his unabashedly swinging “when the time is right” (title track of his 1994 blue note debut) and the funky “have you heard” (title track of his 2005 album on palmetto records). he also turns in a cover of sonny rollins’ “valse hot,” a waltz based on the changes to “somewhere over the rainbow” (from 1939’s the wizard of oz) that the saxophone colossus recorded at the tender age of 25 for his 1956 prestige album plus 4. rollins had originally written “valse hot” as an answer to fats waller’s “jitterbug waltz,” and as jackson said, “it’s a great waltz that is not really played a lot anymore. so, while we did feature some of the oldies but goodies that we all play, this one is kind of off the beaten path. and i did it for sonny, just because i love him so much and he’s been such a big influence on me. plus, i hadn’t played any sonny rollins material in quite some time, going back to when i recorded his ‘paradox’ some years ago [on 1995’s for one who knows]. so that was a chance for me to celebrate sonny.” jackson added of his saxophone hero, whom he talks to frequently on the phone, “everything about him is amazing. you think about how quickly he assimilated everything. he started playing at 16 and by 19 he’s recording with bud powell. he put it together so quickly, so i’m not surprised that he came up with something as sophisticated as ‘valse hot’ by age 25. and the fact that it’s based on the changes to ‘over the rainbow’ not only fits in with the theme of this record, it also speaks to how much the jazz musician has been influenced by film and the broadway standards.” jackson’s initial meeting with giovanni came when he invited the firebrand poet to speak to his students at the hartt school. as he recalled, “ever since i’ve been at the university of hartford, i felt that the school would be well served to bring great scholars of color and scholars who were freedom fighters and activists. in my second year there i brought dr. cornel west, who is a friend. the next year i brought poet sonia sanchez, then the next year i brought [iconic feminist political activist] angela davis and the following year i brought [academic, author, baptist minister and radio host] michael eric dyson. “then, in february of 2020, i brought nikki giovanni. and i reached out to all these people because i felt that them coming to the campus could be very invigorating and also give the students a firsthand perspective and experience of what these individuals went through, sacrificed, and what they provide us as a window going forward.” giovanni’s appearance at the university of hartford coincided with her receiving an honorary doctorate from school president gregory woodward. and as jackson recalled, “after nikki spoke to the students, she noticed that the hank jones and charlie haden cd of hymns and spirituals [1994’s steal away] was playing in the auditorium. she said she loved it and wanted to hear more, and just then i was hit with an idea. two days later, after she returned to her home in roanoke, virginia, i contacted her and said, ‘would you be willing to pick 10 hymns? and that’ll be my next recording.’ she got back to me in a few days and gave me her selections.” recorded at telefunken studios in south windsor, connecticut, the gospel according to nikki giovanni was celebrated as a historic meeting and a meaningful meditation on struggle, sacrifice, resilience, liberation and victory. as giovanni said before a rare performance of her favorite hymns and spirituals at the kennedy center in 2022, “these songs are so important. i’m out here putting water on the flowers, because they need a drink.” their collaboration on javon and nikki go to the movies, also recorded at telefunken, finds them exploring more romantic territory, with similarly copasetic results. jackson’s previous release on his solid jackson records was 2023’s with peter bradley, the soundtrack of a documentary film on the 84 year old abstract painter and saugerties, new york, resident, who was a big fan of miles davis, charles mingus and the jazz messengers. “i’ve known him since my time with art blakey,” jackson recalled. “he was a good friend of art’s, and i never knew that he was a great artist because he never talked about it. a lot of his artwork now is being rediscovered, and he’s still currently very much creating art.” db “they are a huge part of our label’s recent success with streaming,” kevin sun said of partnering with la reserve for endectomorph’s digital efforts. kevin sun’s quartets is the 32 year old tenor saxophonist’s third leader album in a year on endectomorph, the imprint label he’s run since 2016. it features separate books of music for two quartets (one with pianist dana saul, bassist walter stinson and drummer matt honor; the other with pianist christian li, stinson and drummer kayvon gordon) that he’s developed during a weekly, three year tuesday night sinecure at lowlands, a dive bar two blocks from his gowanus apartment in brooklyn. earlier this year, endectomorph released fate of the tenor, documenting sun’s trio with stinson and honor, recorded live at lowlands in june 2022, and after you’ve gone, a conversational album by mute, an all asian quartet with li, drummer dayeon seok and bassist jeonglim yang in which sun plays c melody saxophone and clarinet. last year’s the depths of memory contained three extended suites by sun, chock a block with mixed meters and complex, intricate forms that spur high level improvising within various ensembles that include saul, trumpet virtuoso adam o’farrill, stinson and honor alternating with bassist simón willson and seok. during that 12 month span, endectomorph also licensed five albums by various peers from the modern jazz/improvised music scene in which sun has flourished during his decade in brooklyn. on high firmament and firmament below, tenor saxophonist jacob shulman   with pianist hayoung lyou, stinson and gordon   refracts bebop language with highbrow harmonic skills and conceptual savoir faire, occasionally layering multiple takes of the same piece atop each other to surreal effect. howl is venezuela born guitarist juanma trujillo’s timbrally ambitious first acoustic album, in quartet with sun, honor and bassist andrew schiller, while abiding motion is an intricate nine part chamber jazz suite for quintet by pianist philip golub, performed with telepathic intention and creative spirit. both trujillo and golub work with sun   who has a day job doing the books for a privately owned science research firm   on the logistical minutiae of running and expanding endectomorph’s brainy output. “labels are struggling to figure out how to develop an infrastructure that helps get our music out in the world and create a community around it,” said golub, who, at esperanza spalding’s invitation, placed his organizational skills at the service of wayne shorter’s opera iphigenia during its creation before he moved to new york. golub experienced these difficulties first hand while trying to find traction for “several records in various formations and projects” since 2021. he asked sun   a friend since 2013, when both were matriculated in a dual degree ba masters program offered by harvard (they were english majors) and new england conservatory   whether “he’d want to take the label up a notch, if i helped him a bit and could get some other brooklyn based musicians our age who play together to put out their music. we want great music that tries to do something unexpected, not arbitrarily difficult or avant garde, but original, special stuff that’s been developed over the years in our community.” meanwhile, in summer 2023, sun was pitching fate of the tenor to labels for digital distribution. he heard back from la reserve, a mostly mainstream streaming label that licenses cellar live, bandstand presents and analog tone factory, whose own artist roster includes gifted post millennial mainstreamers like vocalists nicole zuraitis, lucy yeghiazaryan, caity gyorgy, martina dasilva and stella cole, and singer saxophonist grace kelly, as well as saxophonist charles owens and guitarists nir felder and gilad hekselman. “i’d already finished the sustain of memory, which i wanted to keep close to home,” sun recalled. “they loved the music, and have worked with us on every subsequent release. they have good relationships with dsps like amazon music, apple music, tidal, spotify, and they’re extremely good at what they do. i’ve learned a lot from how they pitch music to curators for playlist adds. now we have, essentially, an extended singles campaign, a prolonged release schedule, to try to get as much playlist exposure as possible. they are a huge part of our label’s recent success with streaming.” la reserve co founder matt block is a trumpeter who grew up in philadelphia, not far from sun’s princeton adjacent hometown. “for a long time, i’d revered kevin as an incredible player,” said block, who holds a day job with splice, the royalty free sample megalith. “i thought this was a good opportunity to connect. endectomorph leans into music with a different aesthetic and vibe than our catalog, a more creative improvisational space that people need to discover more. our job is to help find that market from a digital perspective. “there’s a reason why this music was popular in the 1940s and the 1950s, and great artists are rediscovering its power, creating a general resurgence of jazz within popular culture and connecting with a young fan base who are hungry to discover the source.” core to sun’s musical production is his long standing determination to research the roots and branches of jazz expression, especially the vocabulary and syntax of charlie parker and lester young, which he’s discussed in comprehensive detail in several dozen essays on his website, and presented on the exceptional 2021 album <3 bird with conceptually venturesome contrafacts and refractions of parker’s compositions, and on the depths of memory, which includes “eponymous cycle,” based on an extended bird solo on “fine and dandy” from 1950. sun’s lester young investigations influenced his use of c melody saxophone and clarinet with mute. “tenor is a very overpowered instrument with which you can steamroll a band, while c melody is underpowered,” he said. “you can’t just play a low note loudly and make the band revolve around you. you have to finesse it more and think more like a pianist, getting inside the band’s texture to create drama, as opposed to being like an operatic star.” mute cohered soon after sun moved to brooklyn, and made several tours to asia predicated on seok’s and yang’s family connections in seoul and sun’s and li’s in beijing. “we lived together, traveled together, had great conversations about not just music, but life things, sharing notes about playing in new york and being asian american musicians, forming a bond and trust that you only get in that kind of space,” sun said. sun’s parents emigrated to canada and then the u.s. from mainland china while in their 20s. although sun plays the indigenous double reed suona in mute, and served as artistic director of the blue note china jazz orchestra from 2018 until 2020, he said that “incorporating the chinese musical tradition with jazz in a way that doesn’t feel hackneyed isn’t my orientation, even though i want to feel a connection to the culture when i go there. it’s more glancing and relational   my impressions, for better or worse. when i was in beijing before covid, the musicians wanted to know about new york jazz. i’m perceived here more as a creative improviser than a straightahead musician. but in beijing, people just want to play tunes and swing. it’s kind of funny.” db “i really want to provide a positive example for other women coming up in music,” says saxophonist nubya garcia. nubya garcia is feeling more free than ever before. spending much of 2023 and 2024 taking a break from her previous schedule of playing up to 100 shows per year, the 32 year old london based saxophonist has instead been travelling the world, moving from france to brazil, taking time to explore, experience and hone her craft. “i’m striving for more balance in the way that i live, since touring constantly is so unsustainable,” she says. it’s beautiful to disconnect from london and to experience different ways of living. it made me think about the ways that i spend my energy and in the end, it reaffirmed my commitment to music.” the last time we spoke, at the end of 2021, she was closing out a 30 date european run before heading on a 17 date u.s. tour supporting instrumental trio khruangbin. making up for lost time following the covid 19 lockdowns, garcia was in the midst of a career high, having released her acclaimed debut lp, the source, in 2020, as well as making her proms debut and being nominated for the prestigious mercury music prize the following year. “that was a crazy time and i learned a lot from it,” garcia reflects now over a call from her london home. “i was living a dream and it was also so exhausting. one year i did something like 150 shows, which definitely burnt me out. i knew going into the next record i wanted to be more intentional.” when it came to approaching her sophomore album, garcia had one specific goal: to push forward every element of her artistry. “from instrumental practice to writing, arranging and even conducting, i wanted to elevate it all,” she says. “i also wanted this album to feel bigger and more expansive. i wanted to create a body of work that feels like you’re watching a film. it’s cinematic music that brings you unexpected emotions.” that sense of expansiveness came partly from her trips abroad, spending regular nights in sao paulo, marseille and rio de janeiro in the audience at concerts, rather than playing onstage, for the first time in years. “i was enveloped by other people’s artistry all the time and i really enjoyed being around people who were living out loud,” she says. “it moved me to see kids at street parties being out at 11 p.m. or falling asleep on grandma’s lap at a gig. it gave me the confidence to create work that might inspire the same feeling of togetherness in others.” the resulting 12 tracks that make up the odyssey are a leap into an orchestrally intricate and collaboratively joyous side of garcia’s music. where the source and garcia’s previous eps, from 2017’s debut nubya’s 5ive to 2018’s when we are, harnessed her mixed guyanese and trinidian heritage to fuse latin cumbia grooves and afrobeat rhythms with the declarative, dexter gordon referencing tones of her saxophone lines, the odyssey showcases garcia’s skill not just as a soloist but as an arranger and composer for large ensembles, touching on everything from contemporary classical to reggae and mid century swing. this new phase is also marked aesthetically through the album’s cover, which features a photograph of garcia’s own face staring defiantly out at the viewer   the first time she hasn’t used illustrative art   marking a new chapter of confident creation. tracks like the album opener “dawn” pair sweeping strings with the clarion call melodies of featured vocalist esperanza spalding, which are duetted in unison by garcia’s tenor, while the title track explores a languorous, loping swing that showcases garcia’s longtime band firing on all cylinders, and “clarity” features luscious string arrangements sitting beneath a softer lyricism from garcia’s saxophone. closing track “triumphance,” meanwhile, fuses a moody dub inspired bass line with a fierce melody and choral harmonies expressing lyrics on the need for collective inspiration, rather than individual competition. “i had a goal to write something every day for a very long time, and some of those ideas i recorded while others were just an offering of what came up on that day and were never heard again,” garcia explains of her composing process. “i was learning to be consistent and to get into a flow state constantly, rather than waiting for inspiration to spring down from the sky. it meant that when i got to the stage of refining the compositions for the album, it was a testament to the courage and consistency i had practiced before.” the odyssey sees garcia break new ground not only compositionally but also in the skills that she learned during the recording process itself. for the first time, the album sees her arranging for strings and conducting the chineke orchestra. “the process flowed organically, since as i began to hear strings for certain songs in my mind, i knew i needed to write and arrange those parts. although the reality was much harder than i anticipated,” she laughs. “when it came to conducting the orchestra, i knew the arrangements best myself, and so i didn’t want to have to explain it to another conductor. i just decided to do it. i have extremely high standards because i played in orchestras throughout my childhood, and so i had to work really hard at learning this new language. thankfully, it was a beautiful process, and i am so proud of the results and to have tried something new at the grand old age of 32.” the odyssey marks garcia’s second release on concord jazz and also her second time co producing with british musician kwes, who has previously worked with artists ranging from blur frontman damon albarn to rapper loyle carner. “i definitely wanted to work with kwes again since he’s such a phenomenal thinker and calm soul that knows so much,” she says. “this time i knew what i wanted way more. i felt more confident as a producer with a strong vision and sound.” as a female bandleader and producer, garcia is an outlier in the british music industry, since according to research from women in jazz, only 5% of u.k. jazz instrumentalists are women, while the music producers guild only has a 13% membership rate from women as of 2021. garcia serves as a torchbearer and is increasingly aware of the responsibilities that role carries. “i really want to provide a positive example for other women coming up in music [and show] that it can be done,” she says. “for myself, i know that i need to stick to my own path and not be pulled in different directions or succumb to pressure. comparison is the thief of joy, and if you can’t appreciate what you’re doing and what you’ve already done, you’ll always be chasing a phantom.” another female bandleader, composer and producer that garcia has looked up to from the beginning of her career is esperanza spalding. to have her featured now on the opening track of the record comes as a milestone, garcia explains. “esperanza is absolutely phenomenal. i’ve followed her journey for such a long time and been so enthralled by the ease with which you can arrive at her musical world,” she says. “i was really inspired by her livestream project [77 hours of exposure] and seeing her create on the fly with such dedication. when i wrote ‘dawn,’ i was in brazil, staying on the coast where i would wake up before sunrise and look at the ocean and this melody just came to me. when i finished writing it, i knew i had to have a unison duet on it, to feature two people’s melodies as one, and i didn’t hear anyone else other than esperanza. she was the pipe dream.” garcia reached out to spalding’s team and, to her surprise, she immediately agreed to sing on the tune. “i was absolutely blown away, and i didn’t want to get in the way by stifling her unbridled creativity, so all i told her is that the tune is called ‘dawn,’” she says. “she came back with these amazing lyrics, and it really sets the scene for the album with the harmony meeting the lyrics and our melody line to make something magical.” aside from her orchestral and featured collaborators, the core band on the album are musicians with whom garcia has spent more than a decade honing her skills: keyboardist joe armon jones, drummer sam jones and bassist daniel casimir. several were also members of the grassroots london musical workshop tomorrow’s warriors, a jazz training ground that garcia attended in her teens and that has since gone on to develop the careers of peers like armon jones, drummer moses boyd, tuba player theon cross and saxophonist binker golding. when she first launched onto the live circuit in the mid 2010s, garcia became known as a key proponent of this new group of london jazz players, who were each incorporating the musical influences of their diaspora heritages as much as the improvisatory traditions of jazz into their music. now with two albums under her belt, as well as several award nominations and wins to boot, does garcia now see herself as an elder of the scene? “i just wrote a tune this week and i titled it ‘elders in the making,’” she laughs. “i don’t really think of myself as an elder of the london jazz scene yet because i still feel 21, but i do have wisdom to share and as the years are passing i’m really excited to see that there are numerous young artists and bands coming up who are continuing to push forward what we have done and continuing to make music that speaks to the city that we’ve grown up in.” one aspect that garcia is especially keen to address for these younger players coming up is the current financial state of touring. “if you’re in a band that’s just starting out, i can’t even imagine how challenging it must be to get gigs going and not lose money,” she says. “in the cost of living crisis we’re experiencing post pandemic, i can’t imagine how you make it work sustainably.” equally, the pipeline for musicians looking to train and develop their craft is increasingly underfunded and subject to widespread cuts from the british government. free to attend programs like tomorrow’s warriors are now becoming outliers in a struggling arts landscape. “i’d love to set up a foundation or charity to support young people, especially women, coming up because that’s what i had and it was so beneficial to me,” garcia says. “i don’t see funding coming back for the arts, so that needs to be shouldered by the industry to some degree instead. we need to create more space to give opportunities to the people who need them.” while garcia sees this foundation as a long term goal, one she can develop when she has financial backing and the time away from her own music to create a lasting initiative, for the time being it is in playing her music to new, diverse audiences that she feels she is having the greatest impact. “we’re getting ready to play all points east festival on the main stage to 50,000 people on a lineup with nas, which is insane, but it’s also been a long time coming,” she says. “when we first started out, we were pushing to play gigs outside of jazz venues and slowly scaling up, and now it feels like we’re finally here. we’re not just a token act, either, as there are several instrumental artists on the bill, so we’re at home. i hope it’s inspiring for people who are starting out to see.” ultimately, it’s not just about jazz anymore. from her early stints playing venues like london’s ronnie scott’s to now playing east london’s victoria park for a festival crowd, and touring u.s. arenas with khruangbin in between, garcia is finding freedom in exploring her newly expansive sound on stage. “all we need are audiences that are receptive to feeling something, then we can reach them and resonate with whatever we’re playing,” she says. “it’s all about opening the doors to create a multi genre, energetic space. somewhere people feel free to express themselves, however they want to.” db a classic shot of bob karcy, left, with veteran saxophonist benny golson. in the often fragile domain of record labels, technologies and means of production perpetually change   and sometimes in more than one direction. take the ongoing saga of the respected arkadia records, a jazz label since 1996, with its latest development being a plunge into the vintage realm of vinyl. a company that began in an era when the cd was king has also become, by necessity, enmeshed in digital/streaming distribution models. in 2024, the story circles back to the renascent realm of the lp, through audiophile reissues on 180 gram vinyl. founding label head bob karcy explains that his latest venture “is interesting and retroactive, because here i am in digital age, an old guy who grew up on vinyl.” the leap into vinyl kicks off with prized titles from the catalogue, from longtime arkadia artist benny golson, ron carter and art farmer, t.k. blue and an ellington tribute with the arkadia jazz all stars (golson, billy taylor, eric reed, joanne brackeen, randy weston and chris potter) titled thank you, duke! karcy points out that the first vinyl batch boasts the presence of 10 nea jazz masters, a testament to the cultural import of label’s deep catalogue. a list of 44 more titles is in the wings for vinyl release, including sessions by david liebman (whose album the elements: water, featuring pat metheny, is an arkadia classic), label mainstay brackeen and freddie hubbard. the 33 and a third re revolution has landed in arkadia. arkadia records’ backstory starts with karcy’s early life as a trumpeter who “made a nice little career in europe a long, long time ago.” he pivoted to the life of a music manager around 1980, managing phoebe snow and others, but admits, “i didn’t quite care for that.” his next chapter found him honing his entrepreneur skills with a music video company called v.i.e.w. video, producing concert footage by herbie hancock, ron carter and art farmer and many others. (many of those titles, later released on dvd, are now available in video on demand form through arkadia, under the rubric of “arkadia concerts”). a decade and a half later, the prospect of running a jazz label logically emerged. “given my passion for jazz,” says karcy, “i thought, ‘why don’t i get into the music end of it?’ i was always going out to clubs and was associated with jazz. we decided to launch the audio label and looked at various artists like billy taylor and dave liebman and benny. the people we signed really didn’t have a home, so to speak. it was project to project and label to label. i, together with the artists, had the intention of having us become the home for their body of work.” standard practices for running a jazz label were part of the arkadia working equation, but so were more innovative educational and practical side projects, such as the newly dubbed “jazz secrets initiative.” seeds of this multi media project, involving essays, interactive guides, videos and other materials linked mostly to the vast store of music from the arkadia catalogue, go back to 2000. then, when the saugerties, new york based label was in manhattan, its top floor of a brownstone was known as the arkadia music center, with music events, master classes and guest speakers, as well as programs geared towards bettering the lives and careers of professional musicians. “with the jazz secrets initiative, we have two audiences that we’re trying to focus on, karcy says. “one is to proselytize the gospel of jazz, so to speak, to people who just love music in general but maybe they don’t quite get jazz, or they’re curious about it, or they’ve never listened to it. and we’re now putting together a whole segment which will be a jazz education package. overall, it’s truly a jazz project because we’re improvising part of that as we’re going along.” arkadia’s catalogue is a growing, evolving entity, grounded in a voluminous archive of titles and venturing into new turf. among the additions to the roster is inventive vocalist jd walter, who recently completed a new album with pianist taylor eigsti. “i’ve been a fan of his for years and years,” karcy says. “and we just got out of the studio a while ago and finished editing a new album of songs that he wrote, which is really jazz, but crossover as well. it sounds cliché, but he really reinvents the tunes.” looking back over a long career and the arkadia saga so far, karcy shows no sign of cutting back or entertaining retirement. he confesses, “i get both intellectually stimulated and enthused with new projects and new things. it’s fun and keeps me busy and off the street, and i get to work with young people who are a lot smarter than me and can give me lessons in the technology and whatever have you. but maybe i can give them a couple of lessons about the music and about the business experience. “i’m excited and enthused with it,” he says, but adds a caveat, with a laugh: “although i don’t know if i would suggest to my grandkids to jump into the jazz music business.” db nduduzo makhathini leads a focus on south africa at the efg london jazz festival. back for a triumphant 32nd edition and boasting over 350 gigs across 10 days of programming, the efg london jazz festival is set to take over the english capital nov. 15 24, filling venues from sweaty clubs to cavernous concert halls with the wildly varied sounds of international improvisation. spanning legacy headliners like pat metheny, crosscurrents trio and billy cobham, as well as global sounds from armenian pianist tigran hamasyan, palestinian ney master faris ishaq and turkish singer melike sahin, plus homegrown talent from the likes of trumpeter mark kavuma, pianist fergus mccreadie and saxophonist emma rawicz, the sprawling program seemingly has something for everyone. one particularly engaging focus this year comes in a celebration of the 30th year of democracy in south africa through several gigs showcasing the country’s youthful jazz scene. acapella group the joy kick off proceedings with its take on the zulu singing tradition at milton court on nov. 17, while blue note pianist nduduzo makhathini brings his blend of emotive, melodic phrasing and spiritual vocalisations on nov. 21, and drummer asher gamedze his explosive, free improvisations on nov. 16. on the program’s closing night, the festival pays tribute to south africa’s improvisatory avant garde, featuring an all star roster of players including pianists thandi ntuli and bokani dyer. “we’ve been so inspired by south africa’s improvisers exploring their country’s musical heritage alongside jazz tradition to produce music rich with tension and joy,” says pelin opcin, the festival’s sirector of programming. “it’s exciting, fresh artistry that is going to take the world by storm, and we’re very happy to highlight it here.” from cutting edge avant garde explorations in south africa to the birthplace of jazz in the american south, the festival is equally committed to highlighting all aspects of this journeying music’s storied identity. paying tribute to the african american origins of jazz as a music rooted in socio political struggle and communal joy, the festival is programming a series of new orleans focused shows, including a take me to the river celebration on nov. 23, featuring the likes of crescent city stalwarts cyril neville and big chief bo dollis jr., to party starting ensemble the dirty dozen brass band and a free stage at the southbank centre, the big easy, on nov. 24 where passersby can get a taste for the new orleans flavour via orphy robinson’s big easy big band featuring amateur players and london youth group kinetika bloco. the free stages are another key aspect of the efg london jazz festival’s identity, producing showcases of new music for all ages throughout the festival at the barbican free stage and in the southbank centre’s clore ballroom, encouraging the next generation of jazz fans to be inspired by curated programs of new orleans and south african improvisation. much of the homegrown talent on this year’s bill has previously performed on the festival’s free stages, from rising star saxophonist emma rawicz to trumpeter and record label head mark kavuma. for the 2024 edition of the festival, parliamentary jazz award winner rawicz plays a headline show at kings place on nov. 16, while mark kavuma’s banger factory records hosts a showcase of its artists on nov. 17, including guitarist artie zaitz and blue lab beats member david mrakpor. a unique, first time meeting of improvisers will also be taking place on the closing night of the festival as monthly london jazz jam moment’s notice channels the distinct melting pot of the u.k. jazz scene by programming a concert at islington’s union chapel featuring a unique band comprised of courtney pine, bassist petter eldh, ezra collective drummer femi koleoso, trumpeter yazz ahmed and others. alongside shows championing star headliners, traditional combos and rising stars, there are equally a range of gigs challenging standard instrumental formats to include global sounds like the ney flute and the setar in the beyond borders strand of programming as well as vast orchestral backings from the bbc concert orchestra and london symphony orchestra for performances celebrating everything from john coltrane’s repertoire to drummer billy cobham’s 80th birthday. ultimately, the efg london jazz festival 2024 is a mammoth undertaking, covering almost all bases. “we always have so many different strands of artistry that we want to celebrate at the festival, we end up with an incredible range of music to see,” opcin says. “it’s inevitable that we will all miss out on some shows, but that means all the more reason to come back next year and see what else we have to offer!” visit efglondonjazzfestival.org.uk for more information. db “i truly do love learning the history and what came before, and that’s what i practice,” says meg okura, pictured here with kevin hays. “but that’s not necessarily what i do as a composer.” japanese native meg okura is a new york city based jewish american composer and violinist. a graduate of juilliard with two degrees in violin performance, okura has steadily risen in the international jazz community, beginning in the early 1990s, and over the years has become intimately familiar with the significance placed on identity in music. however, this awareness hasn’t stopped her from embracing all of her musical gifts, regardless of style. it’s a choice that in just a handful of years has led okura to a copious amount of awards and recognition for her work, including 2022 and 2024 brio (bronx recognizes its own) awards; 2021 nyc women’s fund for media, music & theater; 2021 jazz road creative residency; 2020 copland house residency award; 2018 chamber music america new jazz works grant and more. amid all of these honors, okura has released lingering, a new duo debut album with pianist kevin hays, a longtime collaborator. released via adhyâropa records, lingering puts okura’s artistic instincts as a composer, improvisor and collaborator on display across 14 original tracks: 12 by okura and two by hays. though a soundly awarded jazz artist   this year, okura won four different composition competitions for classical work and five for jazz   it’s difficult to hear okura’s playing and writing styles and not wonder how her familiarity with classical and jazz come into play on the album. one minute she’s delicately blending notes of harmonic double stops on “will you hear my voice?” the next, she’s employing frantic three finger pizzicato, playing a flurry of notes in a way okura likens to “how a bass guitarist would do it” on kevin hays’ “improvisation #1.” “i’m not really thinking, ‘ok, let’s do a classical thing here and let’s do a jazz thing here.’ but when you’re doing something like [writing music], you try to access all of your resources, knowledge and experience,” okura says. “it’s more like, ‘what can i do with these materials?’ a lot of the time, what i hear already has a combination of different styles.” drawing on an abundance of stylistic inspirations may seem predictable based on okura’s musically diverse experience. however, her very approach to nurturing new ideas comes from another remarkable gift: perfect pitch. often romanticized as a rare key to better performance, easier writing and flawless tuning, this innate ability isn’t a cheat code. that said, in okura’s case, there are definite benefits. for her, it’s more about composing than tonal refinement, specifically when it comes to trying to capture lightning in a bottle. “i do hear a lot of things in my head so as far as composition goes; i can write where there is no piano,” okura explains. “i live in new york city, so i’d take the subway or i’d be waiting for something and in that time, i can kind of compose in my head, and i can chart [the music] out.” when it came to working on lingering in the studio, especially tracking alongside hays, okura’s tonal awareness and compositional instincts served as a complementary support whenever the duo played through an improvised motif or crafted a progression. “coming from classical, i didn’t have the background of improvising based on jazz harmony training,” says okura. “so for me, [perfect pitch] has been very useful for [lingering] and working with kevin. “we would leave an open improvisation section so [kevin] could go to another chord, another key center, and i have to catch it. whatever note he plays, i can emulate, go with it or create a chord with what he’s playing.” though this scene sounds like an effortless exchange between the duo, okura doesn’t discount the value of good old fashioned studying and practice   her mastery of pitch merely serving as support rather than a main character that enables her to compose or stay in sync with hays. “it’s been very important that i acquire more knowledge and study harmony, especially when i first started improvising,” says okura. “i was using my ears, then i had to start studying harmony so i could play chord changes. like with bebop, you change every two beats. with [john coltrane’s] ‘giant steps,’ there’s no way you can wait until you hear it [to figure out chord changes]. “i truly do love learning the history and what came before, and that’s what i practice. but that’s not necessarily what i do as a composer. i don’t try to emulate what came before. i try to be authentic and not deny what i’ve studied and all of my backgrounds as a composer.” okura’s very relationship with music itself has been intertwined with her quest for full authenticity for years, even from the early days of her group, the pan asian chamber jazz ensemble   far preceding lingering or even her 10 year collaborative relationship with hays. “when i first started the pan asian chamber jazz ensemble [in 2006], i used all of my multiple cultural and musical identities as an inspiration, in order to write original music,” she says. though lingering is the latest display of okura finding new ways to write music that feels authentic to herself, how she pursues that feeling has changed with her perspective about how performing and composing jazz fit into her life. “today it’s kind of the opposite,” she says. “i use music and the processes like composing and improvising in order to make sense of my rather complicated identity. in jazz composition i find solace.” the music of lingering has put okura’s newfound inner peace into the spotlight. not only that but over the whole process of reflection, composition, collaboration and performance to make this improvisatory record, she has uncovered freshly charged positivity about herself and the music she makes going forward, undeterred by prohibitive traditions or impossible expectations. “i can embrace all of my backgrounds and feel accepted and feel at home,” okura says. “truly at home.” db “being a musician, you’ve got to wear a whole bunch of different hats,” says indie artist curtis taylor. “you’re doing advertising, and you’re doing flyers for your own shows.” being an independent musician in 2024 frequently requires adopting a diy approach. for trumpeter curtis taylor’s independently released taylor made, that ethic of self reliance is reflected in everything from the album’s artwork to the sound of its mix. bathed in blue and framed diagonally with a photo of taylor playing his instrument, the cover of this long player has faux crease marks and an intentionally worn look. the subtle visual effects give it the look of a cherished album that’s been pulled from the shelf (and perhaps even loaned to friends) countless times. “i did the artwork myself,” taylor said. “the guy that i was going to use is phenomenal   the industry standard, really. but because of that, he’s so in demand and got backed up. and it was just holding up the process. so i was thinking to myself, ‘ok, man, i need this album to be released. i’ll just do it myself.’” the decision to design it himself around two portraits by photographer robert sanchez was a natural one, he reckoned. “being a musician, you’ve got to wear a whole bunch of different hats. you’re doing advertising, and you’re doing flyers for your own shows,” he said, by phone while on summer break in iowa city. (during the school year, he’s an assistant professor in the jazz studies program at the university of iowa.) “every time you have a show, you don’t have the budget to hire someone to design something for you. so i’ve had some experience with that and have developed a decent eye for things by working on something until i really, really love the result. “one of the great things about designing the album art, as the composer and one of the musicians on it, is that i have the inside track on what’s contained on the album and the intent behind it,” he continued. “i wanted the visual aesthetic to give listeners a retro, and familiar, feeling just by looking at the album art.” boasting seven swinging original compositions, taylor made could alternately be called the curtis taylor songbook, vol. 1. he’s had the pun intended album title in mind for two decades. the pieces, though not nearly as old, are nonetheless time tested. “what’s cool about my compositions is that they are tried and true ones that i have performed with my bands live for many different audiences nationally. so i’ve gotten real time feedback over the years,” he shared. “a lot of times, i will intersperse standard jazz repertoire that i think fits well with my original music. what i will find is that in many cases, i will get more of a response from the audience when i would play an original. “and that’s super flattering as an artist because you’ve got to be very vulnerable as a composer. i’m always trying to write and play and perform from a very sincere place. but you don’t know if listeners are going to dig it, and you always hope you’re writing something that resonates with people.” a different piece from the coltrane classic, taylor’s “after the rain” is a joyful and infectious exploration that sounds like a forgotten standard. the post boppish “heightened awareness” is a dizzying number that can raise a listener’s heart rate, while “for her” brings it back down with an understated elegance. there’s a thoughtfulness and a humility to taylor that comes out compositionally and conversationally. when asked if he always wanted to be a trumpeter, he admitted that saxophone was what he initially had in mind. “but a student model trumpet was more affordable than a student model saxophone. so my destiny”   by way of his mother’s budgetary reasoning   “was formed for me.” what was more certain was the bedford, ohio, native’s desire to be a jazz musician. his middle school band director and mentor, the recently retired shawn nichols, took him to the nearby tri c jazz fest cleveland. jon faddis was the special guest of a band led by another of his future mentors   steve enos   and it all suddenly clicked. “i remember they just looked like they were having so much fun on stage,” he said, with a chuckle. “and as a 13 year old in seventh grade, i was, like, ‘man, i think i can see myself doing this for the rest of my life.’ so i’ve been serious about it for a minute.” after taking community college classes while still in high school, taylor went on to earn his bachelor’s degree from michigan state university and his master’s from rutgers university. (taylor keeps strong ties to the former through taylor made’s tenor saxophonist marcus elliot, an alumnus, and double bassist jonathan s. muir cotton, a current undergraduate student there.) performances with the likes of vocalist gregory porter, multi reedist james carter and pianists cyrus chestnut, patrice rushen and billy childs were part of his continuing education. though the majority of taylor’s experiences have been in the straightahead realm with a bit of gospel, he’s not afraid to experiment. his #hashtagged ep from 2017 featured live instrumentation and vocals blended with programmed tracks. “that was all self produced,” he recalled. “and in that process, i really learned a lot about mixing. when i initially got the first mixes back (for taylor made), i was unhappy with it. “but what was great was that i could articulate to the mix engineer very minute elements like, ‘let’s widen the stereo field of the piano,’ or, ‘turn this down 1 or 2 db,’ or, ‘move this to the left or right’   very specific things that i wouldn’t have had the language for if i didn’t have any experience making audio.” taylor’s ear became so attuned that he found himself in sync with taylor made’s veteran producer, kamau kenyatta (who has produced porter and allan harris). “what was cool was we listened independently, and we came back with the same notes,” taylor said. “that really vindicated what i was hearing and all that i learned, and we got something really special out of it all.” db claire daly, right, ​performs with tenor saxophonist george garzone at dizzy’s in 2023. claire daly often signed her correspondences with “love and low notes.” the baritone saxophonist, who died oct. 22 at age 66 after a year long battle with cancer, had a special affinity for frequencies in the depths of the tonal spectrum. down there, she might burnish a ballad’s lingering melody to a chestnut glow, or cause a blues to erupt into craggy, fire spitting peaks. her most recent recording, vuvu for francis (2023), with guest tenor saxophonist george garzone, finds the pair matching each other coolly phrase by phrase on charles lloyd’s “sweet georgia bright” and romping merrily through rodgers and hammerstein’s “the lonely goatherd.” “she came forward with the goods,” says garzone, who knew daly for more than 40 years and performed during the album’s release party at dizzy’s club in new york. “i’m not just saying that. she couldn’t have known it would be the last record she made, but she played right up to the mark, the best i’d ever heard her. i’m happy and honored to be on it with her.” daly won baritone saxophonist of the year from the jazz journalists association and the downbeat critics and readers polls multiple times. she made seven recordings as a leader. her 1999 debut, swing low (koch), was selected for the collection of the william j. clinton presidential library & museum because the recording was significant to the former president while he was in office. daly performed as a leader at the monterey, litchfield, perth and mary lou williams jazz festivals. she served as a faculty member for more than two decades at the litchfield jazz camp, leading combos during the school year for “litchfield in new york.” she also taught for a decade in jazz at lincoln center’s middle school jazz academy, proposing and running a special ensemble for girls. widely known for her outgoing and big hearted nature, daly was equally gifted at dispensing the love from her signature as the low notes. at her semi annual oscars event, which featured music from classic hollywood films, daly awarded golden statuettes to audience members based on her own categories, such as the oscar peterson, the oscar de la renta and even the oscar madison. she led rehearsals, hosted jam sessions and threw parties in her chelsea loft; a century earlier, the space may have been home to the tammany club and the illicit leisure pursuits of its crooked politicians. numerous jazz musicians would call the loft home upon their arrival in new york. a virtuoso of the jazz hang, daly could, on many nights, be found happily listening in the audience at other people’s gigs   and wherever the action was afterwards, cigar in hand. “whenever we were at a conference or festival together,” remembers downbeat editor and publisher frank alkyer, “we’d end up somewhere we weren’t supposed to be, laughing and having a blast.” daly contributed features and interviews to downbeat. she served as an adjudicator for the downbeat student music awards for more than a decade. born feb. 26, 1958, claire anne daly was the youngest of four siblings and spent her youth in yonkers, just north of new york city. she studied ballet and acted in commercials as a teen. at maria regina high school in hartsdale, she also distinguished herself as a spelling bee champion, tying for first place in a run off with the local catholic boy’s school. (she would bitterly recall that only the boy was allowed to advance to the next competition, an injustice she attributed to her gender.) daly’s early love of jazz was fostered by her father, patrick, who took her to hear the heroes of the swing era. at the loft, she kept framed autographs of benny goodman and his band members that she had collected as a girl. daly began studying the saxophone around age 12. as a student at the berklee college of music, she played alto and tenor, studying with joe viola and charlie banacos; garzone coached her in an advanced ensemble. although daly felt berklee was a boy’s club at that time, she found camaraderie with classmates and fellow saxophonists carol chaikin, laura dryer and jenny hill. daly graduated in 1980, playing in an all female new wave band called dish and rock bands before moving to new york in 1985. she then transitioned to baritone. daly was a member of the kit mcclure band, including tours backing 1980s icon robert palmer. and she was a founding member of the diva jazz orchestra, occupying the baritone chair for seven years. “claire was all about swinging and great sound,” says saxophonist virginia mayhew, who was also a member of diva and says daly was her first real friend in new york. “she never tried to fit in or do what anybody else thought she should do. i always appreciated that so much. it was always about the music and not a macho competition.” daly’s long time quartet included pianist eli yamin, bassist dave hofstra and drummer peter grant. her recording projects as a leader include rah! rah! (2008; re released on ride cymbal, 2020), a tribute to rahsaan roland kirk; the mary joyce project (2011), dedicated to her trailblazing second cousin who traveled across alaska by dogsled in the 1930s; baritone monk, in which she reimagined thelonious’ idiosyncratic compositions on the horn (north coast brewing, 2012); and the motown collection 2648 west grand boulevard (glass beach jazz, 2016). daly was a frequent collaborator and regularly lent her talents to projects by other artists: pianist joel forrester’s people like us, singer nora york, poet kirpal gordon, two sisters inc. with fellow baritone saxophonist dave sewelson, tribecastan, iswhat?! with beatboxer napoleon maddox and bassist joe fonda, the j. c hopkins biggish band, and trumpeter matt lavelle among them. announcement of daly’s diagnosis with squamous cell neck and head cancer in 2023 was met by an outpouring of support. within days, a gofundme campaign for her treatment and living expenses had collected donations from hundreds of friends and fans, ultimately raising more than $75,000. daly is survived by her brother frank daly of goshen, connecticut. information on her memorial will be shared on her caringbridge webpage. db ​bill charlap with trio mates kenny washington, left, and peter washington, right. hunched over a round table in the algonquin hotel   where, a century ago, new york’s reigning wits famously gathered   bill charlap, a modern day musical wit out of manhattan’s east side, was thumbing through his photos. in just a few hours, he was due to play a date down 44th street at birdland. so he thumbed quickly. and soon he found what he was looking for: a digitized image of himself as a boy sporting lots of hair, a t shirt emblazoned with the logo of the prog rock group yes and the face of a would be rebel. could that really be the well dressed, mild mannered man of 57 reputed in some circles to be the avatar of mainstream jazz piano? the man who humbly eschews composition for a life of interpreting 32 bar tunes from the worlds of jazz, theater and pre rock popular song? the questions, of course, are rhetorical. in charlap, a radical sensibility coexists with a passion for accessibility. while he is duly respectful of form and deeply sensitive to the goals of composers, even the most sober of his sets will, at some point, yield to a rebellious spirit bubbling up in pianistic forays that exploit in spectacular fashion seemingly every known avenue of improvisatory attack. “i love cecil taylor’s playing, and i love teddy wilson’s playing,” he said. “i’m not trying to play like either one.” the charlap aesthetic was very much in play in september last year, when, on a rainy weekend of working sets at the village vanguard, he and his bandmates   the redoubtable pair of peter washington on bass and kenny washington on drums   were recording tunes for possible inclusion on a live album. that document, and then again (blue note), was released to the world in august. embarking on the project, the trio was not operating in a vacuum. by 2007, when they released live at the village vanguard (blue note), they had been issuing albums for nine years. since then, they have often recorded and toured, and their annual two week vanguard engagement helps launch new york’s fall jazz season. the trio is widely regarded as one of the city’s top working units. “it’s a great trio,” said pianist kenny barron, who wrote the new album’s title tune. “i love that group.” as the trio has evolved, charlap has, by his own account, gravitated toward a role in which he is, in roughly equal measure, leader of and listener to his bandmates. with tongue only partly planted in cheek, he likened them to something resembling a merry band of mutineers. “i’m like captain queeg,” he said, referring to the main character in herman wouk’s novel the caine mutiny. “there’s no boss, just a guiding force, and i will be willing to listen to my troops if they say, ‘there’s a minefield that way.’” on that weekend in september, the group was igniting its small explosions. sunday’s early set opened with what seemed a straightforward, weather appropriate ballad, “here’s that rainy day.” finely wrought and delicately rendered, the treatment struck a mood of melancholy   until, that is, flashes of brightly articulated keyboard filigrees and splashes of double time brush strokes threatened a break in the clouds, complicating the simple narrative. the set closer, “groovin’ high,” offered a similar lesson in complex storytelling. blindingly fast to the point of near parody and intermittently dense to the point of near opacity, the treatment teased every rule of bebop language as only a master grammarian could. yet it came off as a clear eyed communion with the composer: both an intoxicating rumble à la dizzy gillespie and a loving paean to his memory. for all that closer’s energy, the emotion had already peaked mid set, when, after building up a head of steam, the trio suddenly downshifted to “detour ahead.” transporting listeners back a half century, the lighter than air interplay evoked, without imitating, the bill evans trio at its most inferential. the group then shifted into overdrive with an “april in paris” that found charlap crushing the count basie band’s five chord figures into clusters of sound so dissonant that one wondered just what happened to charlap that april. by set’s end, the trio had effectively conjured the ghosts still haunting the hallowed vanguard space, sparking cheers from a spent audience that seemed to rattle the photos lining the club’s walls. an obviously ecstatic charlap joined in: “the one and only village vanguard! the one and only peter washington! the one and only kenny washington!” the bandmate shoutout was classic charlap. seven months later and a world away from playing the vanguard   sitting, to be precise, in his cramped office at new jersey’s william paterson university, where he is director of jazz studies   charlap again displayed the impulse that compelled the shoutout as he prepared to consume a bagel with a schmear. though obviously famished after a crazy busy late april morning, he insisted on sharing the delicacy with a visitor   transforming a prosaic act of sustenance into a telling moment of munificence. such moments, multiplied many times, help explain the outpourings of communal love he elicits, like the one in april at which jazz at lincoln center gave him its 2024 award for artistic excellence; or the one last year at which 92ny honored him at the final concert of his 18 year tenure as artistic director of the jazz in july series; or the one that april day at william paterson, where students heaped words of praise on him after an end of term workshop. “the first word that comes to mind is generosity,” said eoin o’mara, a guitarist and graduating senior. “generosity of spirit, generosity of time, the understanding that you can light someone else’s candle without diminishing your own.” charlap’s generosity extends from acts of personal kindness to the realm of performance. like a fine actor who disappears into a role, he will sublimate his ego and lose himself in the musical text or the needs of his fellow players. that he finds his voice in this act of artistic generosity is the great mystery of his practice. “there’s always a deeper layer with him,” said james bally, a pianist and graduating william paterson senior. “he’s very rooted in something. you’re not even sure what.” untangling those roots, charlap’s wife and sometime musical partner, pianist renee rosnes, said that as he plays, she can hear in his musical choices echoes of those who “lived in him”: a turn of phrase that charlap himself employed and expanded on when talking about his approach to making music. seated at that algonquin round table   not far from the hotel’s now defunct oak room, a swank spot where he accompanied his singing mother, sandy stewart, once a formidable presence on television and records as well as in cabaret   charlap explained: “if there’s someone you love and they die, they’re not gone because they do live inside of you, and you’re living in them and that’s why we get bigger and more expansive when we embrace each other. that is where art is. it’s in a reflection of others.” gazing upward as if casting his own version of the village vanguard walls, charlap added: “imagine the photos all the way around: duke ellington, louis armstrong, irving berlin, george gershwin and prokofiev. they’re all there and they’re always there. “i have a funny relationship that way to death.” death came early to charlap; his father, broadway composer morris “moose” charlap, passed away when he was 7. the passing had an impact that lingers, rosnes said: “it was traumatic and changed his life.” the elder charlap, she said, had a big personality and a big voice that is preserved in recorded material. she suspected that bill’s extraordinary powers of communication   as an artist and educator, and in his everyday interactions   resembled those of his father. for his part, charlap recalled a father who was “an iconic force,” and a home life filled with song, courtesy of both his parents. through them he mingled with songwriting stars like jule styne, charles strouse and yip harburg. with that start in life, charlap’s songbook   and his appetite for adding to it   began to grow early. it got a big boost when, as a 15 year old student at new york’s high school of performing arts, he met dick hyman. a virtuosic pianist with encyclopedic knowledge who knew charlap’s mother through their mutual work at nbc studios, hyman took him under his wing and began shaping his jazz repertoire, as did gerry mulligan, phil woods and sir richard rodney bennett. ultimately, charlap built a book that invites hyperbole in its description. “he knows a million songs,” barron said. matching the size of his book is the depth of his interpretative ability. chatting after a charlap set at birdland in may, bassist ron carter, who was attending the set and will be playing duo with the pianist at that club in october, was asked to sum up the man and his music. with a sly smile and firm tone that suggested he meant what he said both literally and figuratively, carter repeated the phrase: “he knows all the verses.” arranger pete mcguinness, a professor at william paterson, suggested that charlap possessed special sensory powers. speaking after the school’s april workshop   a wide ranging affair charlap led with humorous asides, compassionate critiques and the kind of erudition that is rare in or out of academia   mcguinness praised charlap’s “phonographic memory” and ventured that “telepathy” might explain his uncanny connection to composers. “he gets the intent of the song in ways others wouldn’t.” in his rhetoric, charlap links an understanding of a tune to a knowledge of its composer’s motivations and interpretive history. on “in your own sweet way,” a standout track on the new album, he points first to composer dave brubeck’s reason for writing the piece: “it’s a gift to his wife, iola. he’s telling her he loves her   and they were together forever.” charlap’s focus then shifts to miles davis, noting that, while brubeck introduced the tune on brubeck plays brubeck, a 1956 solo effort recorded at his oakland home, davis’ take   specifically the quintet version on his 1956 release collectors’ items   is more persuasive. most improvisers, he said, adhere to davis’ melodic and harmonic alterations. he includes himself in that group, even as brubeck remains a factor in his approach to the piece. in their take, the charlap trio delivers a remarkable work of collective spontaneity. launched without the oblique intros charlap has lately favored, it includes early episodes of rhythmic risk taking bordering on anarchy in which, as charlap put it, “everybody’s arranging, but everybody’s on their side of the street.” the take thrillingly survives autonomous moments in which drummer washington almost subverts the narrative   breaking into what charlap termed “a crazy latin thing”   before saving it, on charlap’s cue, with a tightly argued cymbals only solo. “he rarely does that,” charlap said. “he wasn’t expecting it. but i knew i could trust him to take it.” that trust, washington explained, reflected a relationship with his bandmates that he could draw on to turn almost any situation to their common advantage: “after more than 20 years together, i know them like a book.” hovering over the affair is the spirit of pianist tommy flanagan, whose subtle lyricism has proved a touchstone for charlap. on the piece’s interlude, charlap references flanagan. and while he arguably does so with a buoyancy that the young flanagan, under davis’ leadership, does not muster, any charlap reference to flanagan is meaningful. “i’d place him in the same lineage as tommy and hank,” barron said, referring in the second case to hank jones. “it’s his touch. he knows how to tell a story. he knows how to leave space. he’s not just a blur of notes. he’s right in there.” kenny washington, who recorded with both flanagan and jones   and, as fate would have it, first encountered charlap as a patron at the village vanguard when washington was playing there in flanagan’s late 1980s trio   seconded that sentiment. though inclusion in such distinguished lineage was a feather in charlap’s cap, he was modestly reluctant to accept it. in fact, he said, discussion about the music’s development as a linear series of steps needed conceptual nuance. “i don’t think about the next step,” he said. “it’s just a personal step. that’s really what this whole thing is about   being yourself. that’s what makes a jazz musician or any artist have something to say.” charlap has plenty to say on “in your own sweet way,” most pointedly near its climax when he lays down a stunning sequence of chords. at that moment, his ethos of discovering his voice through embracing the artistry of others finds some realization. referring to the composer as pianist, he said: “when dave would play, it was like ‘columbia the gem of the ocean’: bombastic, two hand screaming. i wanted to have a little of that.” and so he does   and more. with the subterranean thunder of bass and drums adding bulk to the bombast, he achieves a rawness of texture and richness of color that eluded brubeck. in doing so, he coaxes his inner rebel to the surface. if there is any format in which charlap reins in that rebel, it is the piano duo. the format puts a premium on his heightened sensitivity to providing space for musical partners. barron said he found charlap “very gracious” in their 2003 duo encounter in japan, while charlap and rosnes report total synchronicity since their first duo performance in the late 1990s in bern, switzerland. workouts like lyle mays’ “chorinho,” their flagwaving set closer, demand it. the solo format, by contrast, offers a chance to loosen the reins. and charlap can get surprisingly loose, especially when he tackles a war horse like jerome kern’s “yesterdays.” art tatum’s solo bag of tricks alone provides so many figures for the fertile mind to abstract that a master of allusion like charlap never tires of it. nor do his fans. “i love his solo playing,” barron said. “he knows how to take a piece apart and really explore before he even plays the melody.” but even flying solo, charlap has been known to rein in his inner rebel. at jazz at lincoln center’s april awards ceremony, he kept it simple with a dreamlike solo performance of “long ago and far away,” a tune he had more elaborately addressed with rosnes and tony bennett on silver lining (blue note), the grammy award winning album of kern tunes released in 2015. floating through time and gently closing in on the piece’s finale, he suddenly hit a high note squarely in the middle of the last line   “that all i longed for long ago was you”   mirroring a small but striking bennett improvisation on the album. as a tribute to bennett, the gesture no doubt went unrecognized by much of the assembled crowd. but that wasn’t the point: it allowed charlap to keep a compact with himself, to honor what he had promised the audience before playing the tune   and to find his voice in that of another. “whenever i heard tony bennett sing something,” he told the crowd, “that was the way i heard it in my heart, in my head   forever.” db ​saxophonist joshua redman with singer gabrielle cavassa at monterey in september. ​guitarist stephane wremble backstage with other artists at this year’s monterey jazz festival. chief adjuah performing at this year’s monterey jazz festival. to sustain any cultural intuition   and beyond that to refresh it   is a tall order. to keep faith with a well established brand and its fans while re tuning to the temper of the time and preferences of new audiences is to dare a balance in which some teetering is likely. so darin atwater, the baltimore based conductor educator in his first curation of the monterey jazz festival (sept. 27 29) as only the third artistic director in its 67 year history, deserves kudos for populating the multiple stages of comfortably scaled if well worn monterey fairgrounds with a diverse, multi generational program celebrating the breadth of jazz and jazz adjacent genres, tweaking the fest’s mellow mainstream west coast vibe with new acts, broadened scope, whetted edge. throughout sunny afternoons and damp evenings, randomly timed sonic booms from airplanes landing nearby and acts on overlapping schedules continuously from 11:30 a.m. to 11 p.m., there were few evident false steps. rather, dozens of sure footed artists filled the five distinctive performance spaces dotting grounds about the length of two football fields, connected by paths lined with community groups’ tents, crafts vendors and food stalls. the ethnically heterogeneous but majority grey haired crowds ambled peacefully, noshed at picnic tables, perched on bleachers and folding chairs, sat on the grass or stood, often refreshments in hand. attendees could get close to the musicians at the tim jackson stage (named for the fest’s just retired director of 32 years, here enjoying himself in the audience) set in a glade of trees; the courtyard stage, a small platform over a pond; and the west end stage, farthest from the entrance and separately ticket arena. one could listen casually or intently, but there was constant temptation to check out what was happening just a hundred feet away. although best experienced by grazing, the mjf has loyal supporters who buy premium priced front row and stands seats near the jimmy lyons stage (named for the fest’s first director, who co founded it with journalist ralph gleason) every year and tend to stay in the arena (capacity 5,800 seated, getting full as the day progressed). the shows here were big, characterized by upbeat determination, tuneful touchstones and audience outreach. the lineup highlighted gospel roots, commanding vocalists, cohesive standing bands and audacious spectacles powered by star instrumentalists at the top of their games. ethnographic displays were welcomed from lila downs, a joyous avatar of indigenous mexican and californian traditions, and somi, whose lilting yet explosive african american folk jazz was energized by a crafty small band. (all the weekend’s supportive musicians deserve recognition   they were named in the fest’s 62 page, four color, $10 souvenir program book.) from the gospel of the blind boys of alabama (tempered by self described “dirty old man” bobby rush blowing blues harp) and donald lawrence’s fervent choir to bassist kyle eastwood’s quintet with the monterey symphony orchestra concertizing his father clint’s original film music (dad and morgan freeman as witnesses); from the united front of the sfjazz collective to the flash of hiromi’s sonicwonder, the neo fusion intensity of bassist stanley clarke’s n 4ever band and the powerhouse stretch music of chief adjuah; from the lyricism of joshua redman with gabrielle cavassa to robert glasper easing into his funky thang to the unbridled vocalism of samara joy   on this stage, where jimi hendrix and janis joplin debuted, otis redding had his apotheosis, charles lloyd recorded “forest flower,” mingus led a unique 12 tet   artists reached for the sky. outside the arena there were quieter but equally compelling moments. in the boxy pacific jazz café   where ashley kahn held panel talks   alto saxophonist miguel zenón and pianist luis perdomo duetted exquisitely on afro caribbean boleros (every night, bay area salsero christian pepin and orquesta bembé held a raucous, trombone forward dance party). at the west end stage, tarbaby (orrin evans, eric revis, nasheet waits) played a slow burning set including an andrew hill tune and ’70s philly soul his “bettcha by golly wow”; pianist gerald clayton’s trio romped delightfully. free funk new yorkers harriet tubman threw down for a small crowd, melvin gibbs’ bass trenchant, brandon ross’ guitar and voice keening, j.t. lewis’ drums loose and driving. chicagoans led by trumpeter marquis hill with drummer makaya mccraven reveled in their jetstreamed, international anthem style. in the jackson glade, i caught only a moment of pianist jason moran with tape loop specialist blank forms and drummer marcus gilmore (moran had a substantial fest presence, and i’m sorry i missed his other collaborations). guitarist stephane wremble’s afternoon concert of originals with nods to django reinhard and andalusia was enhanced by pianist jean michel pilc. bay area guitarist mimi fox’s organ trio and blue note records president don was’ pan detroit ensemble were fun. the last music i heard was tenor saxophonist james brandon lewis’ red lily quintet, playing mahalia jackson repertoire, devotedly. there was much more: valiant julia keefe fronting her indigenous jazz ensemble; berklee institute for jazz and gender justice students showing chops and heart; pianist singer sara jones bouncing through “devil may care” and “my attorney bernie”; the carolyn sills combo, a western swing band with hot pedal steel player. suspecting older adults fade after 9:30 p.m., atwater added a “coda” series in the arena, with jose james, mumu fresh and keyon harrold. he was right   i folded early. i’ll catch up via recordings. what i recall most vividly is: best of all was mavis staples. if she’s not a jazz vocalist, still this indomitable 85 year old sings with authenticity and resilience like no one else alive. her voice was coarse   she sipped hot tea   but her phrasing was impeccable, her delivery lively and her message crystal clear. with perfectly empathetic guitarist rick holstrom, bass and drums and two backup singers, staples imparted the wisdom of “respect yourself,” lauded her pop’s last words as “friendship” and led the audience in a singalong of the refrain from buffalo springfield’s 1966 protest song “for what it’s worth” that seemed to speak to the background political moment: “hush baby, what’s that sound?/everybody knows what’s going down. . .” music conveys expressive truth. the 67th monterey jazz fest was a telling soundscape for where we are now. db “you want people to feel, no matter where they are, that they’re important to the music,” said marcus shelby about bandleading. one week after the conclusion of this year’s healdsburg jazz festival, artistic director marcus shelby took a restorative fourth of july holiday road trip with the san francisco giants as they won two of three from the atlanta braves. “i don’t hunt and i don’t fish,” said the 58 year old bassist composer, a giants season ticket holder. “baseball is my only hobby.” shelby had booked nine days of consistently interesting concerts, overseeing logistics, putting out fires, mcing avuncularly and bringing his huge tone and impeccable beat to darrell grant’s counterpoint rich mj new quartet, the tradition centric person (eric) to person (houston) quintet and the marcus shelby big band, which he formed in 1998. this year’s 15 piece edition opened with repertoire from shelby’s 2019 cd transitions   four less traveled duke ellington numbers and four excerpts from black ball: the negro league and the blues. during the second half, shelby’s big band backed jazzmeia horn with signifying bay area tenor saxophonist howard wiley nailing the vocalist’s spirited charts. black ball follows port chicago, harriet tubman and soul of the movement: meditations on dr. martin luther king jr. as commercially documented extended works emanating from shelby’s interdisciplinary deep dives into various aspects of african american history, each deploying the blues as a default basis of operations. as yet unrecorded is shelby’s beyond the blues: a prison oratorio, a suite for big band and vocal ensemble, a 2015 yerba buena gardens commission that addresses the prison industrial complex. so are various interdisciplinary productions involving dance, theater and film, such as blues legacies and black feminism, a 2019 quintet titled for angela davis’ book, which analyzes and anthologizes the lyrics sung by bessie smith, ma rainey and billie holiday. “one definition of the blues is the pursuit of freedom, which matches the history of black people in this country from the beginning,” shelby said. “you find it in every musician playing the blues, or even improvisational music   freedom of interpreting melody, freedom of rhythm, freedom of timbre, which is why there’s room for billie holiday next to ella fitzgerald. the other definition is tension and release, both in harmony   what academics call the blue notes, the flat thirds and the sharp nines, and how they resolve   and rhythm. that’s how bass players play. it’s the music’s heartbeat. the 12 bar structure of the traditional blues contains statement resolution as a storytelling art form.” the son of a schoolteacher and an army lifer, shelby   a four sport athlete in high school during formative years in sacramento who received a basketball scholarship from cal poly, where he earned an electrical engineering degree   applied a relentless thirst for research, including assiduous fieldwork, in his compositional process. “i become like a method actor,” said shelby, who played signifying bass for anna deavere smith on theatrical and hbo productions of her extraordinary 19 character, one woman show notes from the field during the 2010s. “in working on beyond the blues, i went to prisons and juvenile halls and held meetings on topics dealing with mass incarceration for seven years.” when working on black ball, shelby augmented his experiences as a high school outfielder and lifelong giants fan, joining the society of baseball research, learning sabermetrics and playing catcher in a men’s league. “i love that position,” he said. “just like a bass player, you’re part of everything that’s happening, controlling the rhythm, calling the pitches. i run my big band from the perspective of the manager dealing with all the personalities and putting people in the best position to succeed.” extending the analogy to his duties at healdsburg, shelby added, “i think like a general manager.” he credits the template established by festival founder jessica felix during her 1999 2020 tenure. felix returned the compliment. “marcus is a great communicator,” she said. “he’s taught me a lot about music through history.” felix recalled meeting him in 1991, when drum giant billy higgins urged her to book shelby’s first group, black note, at an oakland venue she was booking. higgins had recently connected with shelby at his just opened world stage cultural center, which shelby was introduced to soon after moving to l.a. for a job at jet propulsion laboratories. after leaving the jpl job a few months later, he received a scholarship to california institute of the arts, where he studied with charlie haden, darek oles and james newton. meanwhile, with higgins’ blessing, he rehearsed regularly at world stage with drummer willie jones iii and alto saxophonist james mahone, formulating black note’s sound, documented between 1991 and 1995 on four albums, including releases for columbia and impulse! after black note disbanded in 1996, shelby moved to san francisco’s mission district, where he still resides. a year later, local tenor saxophone hero howard riley suggested he call trumpeter ambrose akinmusire, then 15, for a gig. “i went to his house to learn the music,” akinmusire recalled. “he opened the door, wearing this black suit, thin tie, just impeccable. scores and books all over the place. his sound and groove were amazing. he’s super intelligent without trying to force it on you. i played hundreds of gigs with marcus, and i tried to emulate him.” shelby’s ongoing impact on young bay area musicians is apparent in the film harriet tubman: through the eyes of children from 2020, on which bay area musicians like pianist luis peralta and drummer genius wesley, then teenagers, nail his gorgeous reduction of the score. “over 28 years here, i’ve encountered a lot of young musicians who’ve spread their wings,” shelby said. “i’m involved in a lot of music and education. the only way i know how to exist in this music is to do what people like my baba billy higgins did for me.” db ​tenor saxophonist hans dulfer performs with his new quartet during a recent show at bimhuis. oscar jan hoogland‘s epic program “trip through the years” essayed numerous threads of the bim’s legacy. pianist marta warelis, right, debuted an international sextet at bimhuis earlier this month. while some international jazz venues have been in continuous operation longer than the bimhuis in amsterdam, it’s hard to think of another spot that has celebrated and elevated the full spectrum of jazz and improvised music with the same attention to detail, stylistic breadth and creativity. during the month of october the venue has been celebrating its 50th anniversary with a dynamic program that might not look much different from what the venue typically offers, but upon closer inspection the lineup has reflected that innate sense of variety, both in observing its rich past by engaging veteran figures who helped make the bimhuis what it is and by embracing its future by accessing the increasingly cosmopolitan makeup of the city’s population. the venue opened back in 1974 in an old furniture showroom on the oude schans near amsterdam’s red light district, as an initiative launched by some of the city’s most adventurous and enterprising musicians: reedists hans dulfer and willem breuker, trombonist willem van manen and pianist misha mengelberg, among others. “i got involved a year later, by accident, and i never left,” says huub van riel, who did, indeed, step down in 2017 after programming the venue for more than four decades. if any single person defines the bimhuis, it’s van riel, a fervent jazz expert with voracious tastes and a knack for wicked storytelling. when he discusses his role at bimhuis he relentlessly veers off on tangents, relaying stories about von freeman, sun ra or sam rivers. under his leadership the venue became a legendary spot that played host to every conceivable stripe of jazz across its rich history, yet as often as legendary figures from the hard bop era performed on its cozy stage, the venue remains known best for both fostering a real community of european jazz practitioners, as well as creating contexts for them to meaningfully connect and collaborate with some of the greatest american artists. during his lengthy tenure, van riel occasionally organized ambitious gatherings marked by inspired collaboration. in 1987 and again in 1991, multi day endeavors brought together the cream of the crop of both european and american figures. just imagine cecil taylor, george lewis, anthony braxton, derek bailey, evan parker, fred van hove, marilyn crispell, archie shepp and most of the crucial dutch figures of the time, including mengelberg, han bennink, ab baars and guus janssen. a year before retiring, van riel did it again, this time focusing on a younger generation of european players, with a gathering that launched some of the most impressive and ongoing partnerships of our current time, whether the duo of british pianist alexander hawkins and swedish singer sofia jernberg and punkt.vrt.plastik, the trio of pianist kaja draksler, bassist petter eldh and drummer christian lillinger. he also oversaw the venue’s 2005 relocation from the rustic oude scans location into its jewel like presence within the tony muziekgebouw, a black box physically jutting out from the larger structure that is the city’s storied home for contemporary classical music. in 2019 the bimhuis installed a multi camera setup for live streaming certain performances on its video and online audio channels, months before the pandemic led countless other presenters to follow suit. the bimhuis continues to foment such creative endeavors, not only during the present celebration, but year round. in 2018 frank van berkel took over programming the venue, charged with making the bim more sustainable in an era when jazz and improvised music were declining in the marketplace. he has reflected changing tastes and trends, as jazz has become more porous and adaptable to outside influences, whether hip hop, african music or the plethora of latin and south american styles imported largely by the massive contingent of non local students at the prestigious conservatorium van amsterdam. more recently, van berkel has been assisted by shane burmania since the beginning of the year. under his direction the bimhuis has expanded its programming, placing a greater emphasis on global styles as amsterdam’s community of musicians has become international. “we don’t create a community,” says burmania. “but we’re very aware of community, and the space is somehow community driven. the bim would be nothing without the community.” while the venue must sell tickets to be sustainable, it has forged partnerships with more experimental presenters, producing four annual concerts with space is the place, an improvised music platform run by tim sprangers that has organized more than 1,000 concerts since launching in 2015. under van berkel’s leadership, the venue has initiated more community programs, including the reflex program, in which four artists each year are given resources to assemble, rehearse and develop a new project, including a subsequent album release. as part of the october program the remarkable polish pianist marta warelis debuted a dazzling international sextet featuring drummer frank rosaly, bassist ingebrigt håker flaten, cornetist ben lamar gay and reedists ab baars and karen ng. the group premiered a new set of music facilitated by the reflex program, once again indicating the venue’s support for the improvised music community. the program devised by van berkel and burmania used different methods of celebrating the bim’s vaunted history. tenor saxophonist hans dulfer presented a new quartet on oct. 2, while the still extant icp orchestra, with founding member han bennink still on drums, performed one of its extravagantly beautiful sets a few days later. a reconstituted lineup of willem breuker’s legendary kollektief   featuring some original members and a clutch of younger musicians   celebrated the late bandleader’s theatrical legacy last weekend. earlier in the month, the audacious keyboardist oscar jan hoogland presented an epic program titled “trip through the years,” which essayed numerous threads of the bim’s legacy, threading together music by amsterdam scene greats like mengelberg, cor fuhler and sean bergin, with styles adapted from south africa, ethiopia and chicago. “i think the idea for this month was not to summarize the history, but to respect the shoulders, where we stand,” explains burmania. “not to only be nostalgic and look back, but also to bring it forward and focus on new generations and also give them a spot.” burmania, an amsterdam native who says he grew up on van riel’s programming, is excited about the future. speaking of his relatively new role at bimhuis, he says, “of course, it’s intimidating, but it’s also inspiring. we have to look forward and get it into the next decade and see what’s happening and ignite it with new audiences. and we can’t do that by copying what’s been done.” db tini was a gifted jazz pianist and composer, choral conductor and consultant/clinician. dennis j. tini, a distinguished professor emeritus of music and senior associate dean (retired) of wayne state university in detroit, died oct. 7 at age 76. professor tini, as he was known in most circles, taught and administrated at wsu for 42 years, retiring on aug. 31, 2015. “dennis was an incredible leader in the music world, and a wholehearted supporter devoted to our college and the department of music,” said hasan elahi, dean of the college of fine, performing and communication arts. “most of all, he was a cherished member of the university community. his creative legacy and love of teaching will live on through the many lives he touched here in detroit and around the world.” tini was a gifted jazz pianist and composer, choral conductor and consultant/clinician. during the past 50 years, he appeared frequently at major music festivals, universities and conferences throughout europe, south africa, canada, jamaica, argentina, haiti and the united states. professor tini was the recipient of numerous national, state, university and international awards for excellence in music performance, teaching, leadership and service. he was most recently nominated for the 2024 arts achievement award from the department of music and cfpca. “during my brief time here, i have heard such wonderful stories about dennis, and i am grateful i had a chance to meet him at the gretchen c. valade opening in august,” said jeffrey sposato, ph.d., who was named department of music chair in july. “i have already met so many people who worked closely with dennis for many years, and i express my most sincere condolences to his wife, april, and their family for this heavy loss.” at wayne state, tini served for 13 years as chair of the wsu department of music from 1992 until 2005. during his time, he was also the director of jazz studies, co director of jazz studies and director of wsu choral activities. tini also served as area coordinator for the wsu music business and music technology programs. co founder of the wsu jazz studies program in 1979, tini was also the founding director of the wsu jazztet, founding conductor of the select wsu concert chorale and conductor emeritus of the wsu choral union and orchestra. he received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the department of music in 1970 and 1972, respectively. “dennis tini profoundly shaped countless lives by creating opportunities that would challenge, inspire, educate, build confidence and demonstrate the value of pursuing excellence,” said chris collins, professor and director of jazz studies at wsu’s department of music and president and artistic director of the detroit jazz festival foundation. “generations of artists would be quick to cite the experiences, gifts of knowledge, artistry and unparalleled humanity dennis brought into their lives as the foundation of who they are today. “while the world will feel his absence in so many ways, the legions of those dennis mentored and enlightened will ensure his life changing mission resonates far into the future. he made the world a better   and more musical   place by selflessly improving one life at a time.” in the professional music space, dennis appeared with buddy rich, the detroit symphony orchestra, the brazeal dennard chorale, larry nozero, j.c. heard, marvin stamm and chris collins, among many others. he conducted orchestras for hollywood movies, composed music for documentaries/commercials and performed as musical director for national corporate musical productions. russell miller, associate professor of jazz studies, recalls many years of working with tini personally and professionally with students and other alumni to record music. “we produced a cd of dennis’ compositions in 2013, titled dennis tini/russ miller jazz quartet with strings: for nicole. he hired me to arrange, perform and produce the recording,” miller said. “it was an excellent learning adventure for me. it was great to have an opportunity to collaborate with dennis, and i’m grateful that he entrusted me with overseeing the project.” tini will also be remembered not only for his musical acumen but his humanitarian efforts. since 2018, he voluntarily served as music director and head of security   teaching music monthly and training the security guards   for the have faith haiti mission and orphanage in port au prince, haiti, operated by internationally acclaimed author and philanthropist mitch albom. “we have lost our maestro. dennis was the driving force for the music our kids created at have faith haiti,” albom wrote in a facebook post announcing tini’s passing. “after a long, distinguished career as a musician, university professor, and international artist and composer, dennis devoted the last seven years of his life to bringing music to orphan children. his dedication, joy, discipline, and relentless belief that people could be better, that students could be better, that human beings could be better, was an inspiration to all of us.” db “with this record, i’m not trying to punish you,” ndegeocello says of no more water. “i’m trying to help you heal.” it was less a matter of “if” and more of “when.” meshell ndegeocello’s transfixing new album, no more water: the gospel of james baldwin (blue note), seems an inevitability when one considers her career trajectory. like baldwin, the iconic black american novelist, essayist, playwright, poet and sociopolitical commentator, ndegeocello is one of our most fearless, intimate, enthralling and at times confrontational artists to emerge in the 20th century. as a multi instrumentalist, songwriter, singer, bandleader and conceptualist, she’s amassed a resilient discography that started in 1993 with the release of her intoxicating debut album, plantation lullabies. that lp caught the zeitgeist of the then emerging jazz hip hop soul hybrid, simultaneously anticipating the neo soul movement as she covered a waterfront of themes such as institutional racism, personal sexual conquests, romantic yearnings and the comforting ecstasy of ’70s soul music. as ndegeocello’s solo career progressed, she addressed other controversies, such as religious hypocrisy, homophobia, capitalism, unbridled carnal lust and emotional infidelity, some of which challenged the often conservative american soul music status quo. musically, she has proven to be just as audacious, with a restive spirit that has fueled her explorations into modern jazz, afrobeat, reggae, electronica and undefinable pop. she’s often laced her music with spoken word excerpts and references to various literary giants such as eldridge cleaver, gil scott heron, angela davis and dick gregory. the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire … “do i really want to be integrated into a burning house?”  james baldwin, the fire next time no more water arrived on aug. 2, 2024, the exact day of baldwin’s centennial. the album drops during a time when the united states is facing another contentious time. president joe biden dropped out of the election following a disastrous debate performance. vice president kamala harris stepped in. all of this comes in the aftermath of the jan. 6, 2021, violent attack on the u.s. capitol by supporters of former president donald trump, who was defeated in the 2020 election. three years later, after authorities prosecuted more than 350 of the assailants, the u.s. supreme court limited which defendants accused of participating in the capitol riot could be charged by federal prosecutors. also, in a 6 3 ruling this year, the supreme court granted trump partial immunity from special counsel jack smith’s election subversion case. in a fragile u.s. democracy, which routinely demonstrates that not all its citizens are held accountable under its justice system, the supreme court seems to have given trump and some of his followers a pass for their collective violence. this is trump, the first u.s. president in history to be convicted of felony crimes (34 charges); who exhibited hateful disdain to women, people of color and immigrants during; and whose rhetoric emboldened hate groups such as the proud boys and the oath keepers. when ndegeocello recorded no more water in 2020, the u.s. was at another boiling point. the country   and many other parts of the world   erupted in mostly black lives matter led protests after derek chauvin, a white minneapolis police officer, killed unarmed george floyd outside a grocery store. the world was already in the grips of a historic pandemic, but videotaped footage of floyd’s murder lit the match for heated protests, many of which were already simmering with rage after the deaths of breonna taylor, killed inside her home by louisville, kentucky, police in march 2020; and ahmaud arbery, killed the month before by three white men while jogging in his neighborhood in glynn county, georgia. ndegeocello cites arbery’s murder as inspiration for “what did i do?” a somber ballad marked by a lurking bass line, suspenseful synth chords and justin hick’s plaintive, soul searching singing. “that song started with the bass line,” ndegeocello explained in late june, just weeks before embarking on a european and u.s. tour. “when i’m playing that bass line, i feel ahmaud getting assaulted and eventually shot while jogging. can you imagine someone chasing you down just for jogging? i cannot.” the genesis of no more water dates even further back, to the fall of 2016, when the harlem stage premiered the gospel of james baldwin: can i get a witness, a commissioned theater piece ndegeocello created with director charlotte brathwaite. during the initial performances of the gospel of james baldwin, barack obama was ending his second term as u.s. president with the backdrop of the black lives movement ascending in full swing after the acquittal of george zimmerman for the murder of an unarmed trayvon martin and subsequent murders of other unarmed black people in the u.s. that included michael brown, eric garner, tamir rice, freddie gray and nine victims of the charleston church massacre. “in 2016, i woke up from my delusions of being post race,” ndegeocello says, alluding to witnessing all of the atrocities in the aftermath of the u.s. electing its first black president. “i woke up from my delusions of things were getting better. and [some things] are better. we are not dying of cankerous sores; we are not in chains. but the mentality of the political system is not that different. and that’s what the fire next time ages in you. it gives you a blueprint. baldwin breaks down the police; he breaks down the church. in a clear, succinct manner, he breaks down white society and the black muslim movement at the same time. [the struggle for equality for all] is not one sided, because the color of my skin is not a unifying factor.” the fire next time refers to baldwin’s 1963 masterpiece in which he writes to his nephew about the horrors of being black in the u.s. during his time. a year prior to the gospel of james baldwin, award winning journalist, essayist and novelist ta nehisi coates issued between the world and me, a nonfiction book written as a letter to coates’ then 13 year old son about his thoughts on being black in america. coates’ between the world and me ignited worldwide renewed interest in the fire next time, whose structure it recalls; baldwin’s book inspired the title of ndegeocello’s no more water. surprisingly, she hadn’t read the fire next time until she co created the gospel of james baldwin. “my mind was blown; i was so ashamed that i hadn’t read that,” ndegeocello says before explaining how the book helped her release some deep seated resentment toward her now deceased parents. “[the fire next time] gave me more empathy toward them. not only were they trying to raise children; they were experiencing white supremacy in a way that i could not imagine.” ndegeocello, however, had read a few of baldwin’s other books prior to working on the theater piece. she grew up in washington, d.c., which has long been a bastion for black art, culture, education and upward economic and political mobility. still, it wasn’t until ndegeocello left d.c. that her literary horizons broadened. “i grew up with disney and shakespeare; i was definitely brought up in the dominant culture,” ndegeocello says about formative years in d.c. “it wasn’t until i moved to new york city when i was 22 that i met people like beverly jenkins, greg tate and arthur jafa that i expanded the knowing of myself. i was blessed to have people around me who didn’t treat me like i was ignorant, but they could see my provincialism.” baldwin: mind, body & spirit in conversation, ndegeocello often speaks of baldwin in the present tense, as though he’s physically still among us. throughout no more water, she sounds as if she’s interacting with baldwin’s work as a living, breathing entity. with keen insight, she explores not only baldwin’s incisive observations on race relations, queer life, love and life as an artist, she contextualizes them inside more recent movements such as #metoo and black lives matter. “baldwin not only propelled me to my future; he helped me digest the past,” ndegeocello says. “it was baldwin who taught me that white culture really believes that it has something to offer that it thinks black people need. it’s not until you realize that the american dream is something that you to have take part and parcel that you realize you have to figure out how it works for and against you.” ndegeocello, however, addresses baldwin beyond the iconic civil rights intellectual and advocate. she makes listeners consider baldwin as a complicated human being. in the liner notes, noted arts critic and essayist hilton als writes of giving baldwin his body back. “hilton wants to give baldwin back his cultural self,” ndegeocello explains. “baldwin became polemic in a way. his creative, artistic self shifted, and he became almost a spokesperson. there’s the creative, theatrical baldwin, who wants to be in the zeitgeist of pop culture. there’s the essayist, the civil rights person. and then there’s baldwin, the man whose father said he was unattractive; the man who did the church schtick; the man who is going through life thinking that he would never be loved.” “in a kind of way, baldwin has been idolized as an idealogue rather than a queer person of color,” adds als, who also contributed text and spoken word to the album track “on the mountain,” which zeroes in on the concept of delivering baldwin’s body back to him. “in that idealization, what happens is the draining of their blood. i don’t want us to idolize him that way, because he’s a figure who deserves the complexity of a real, living person. he lives on the page. and he lives in our hearts.” in this process of giving baldwin back his body and complex humanity, ndegeocello ponders what he would do if he was still living. “if baldwin were still alive, i would ask, ‘in your heart of hearts, what creative project did you really want to do?’’’ she says. “what would baldwin think of lil nas x? i would ask him, ‘do you feel loved? how does it feel, living inside your body with your sexuality as you age? what was it like to lose three people that you knew and loved: dr. martin luther king jr., malcolm x and medgar evers?’” fire music reimagined “all i know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. and even then, on the rare occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations.”  james baldwin, sonny’s blues no more water unfolds with multiple timbral and emotional temperaments, underscored by jarring, vibrant, transfixing sonic collages that allude to the best work of romare bearden. like baldwin’s prose, the lyrics and spoken word pieces on no more water punch with unflinching force. “i am a collagist; i come from that hip hop world and go go,” ndegeocello says. “i started writing music in collage form: through sampling. i come from a jazz background, even though my bass playing is not virtuosic. but i think in a jazz virtuosic way. i want to be the musician who writes compositions that other musicians like to play. and within those rhythmic and harmonic structures, they can find things they want to play within the composition. it gives them a place for self expression.” no more water shows ndegeocello surrounded by longstanding collaborators   guitarist chris bruce, saxophonist josh johnson, drummer abe rounds, keyboardists jebin bruni, julius rodriguez and jake sherman, and singers justin hicks and kenita miller. the album also features searing spoken word performances from acclaimed poet and political social activists staceyann chin, black lives matter co founder alicia garza, poet paul thompson and french jazz radio host caroline fontanieu. at various times, the album howls with clenched teeth fury, sobs in soul crushing despair, prances in queer joy with cautious optimism, investigates the deeper corridors of love and hate, and calls for unity and strength during exhausting, never ending social activism. no more water opens with the contemplative and wry “travels,” on which ndegeocello embodies baldwin, observing the plights of black america and ruminating on his role in the advancement of the struggle, while living in france. more poignantly, it articulates why baldwin fled the u.s.: so that he could breathe and be. ndegeocello inserts snippets of chin vigorously reciting baldwin’s famous 1963 lecture “the artist’s struggle for integrity” on two occasions on the album. “as an artist, you have this lofty idea of yourself when you’re young,” ndegeocello says. “hearing [“the artist’s struggle for integrity”] really helped me. that speech hurts me; it uplifts me; it brings me to my knees; it makes me want to better myself. it’s the whole foundation of the baldwin experience.” chin’s oratory gifts burn hotter on the incendiary “raising the roof,” which encapsulates the frustration black america has endured watching police murder unarmed black people with near absolute immunity during the last decade; the rousing “tsunami rising,” on which she takes on white patriarchy and its oppression against black women, particularly with regard to the policing of women’s bodies; and on the subversive “thus sayeth the lorde,” where chin channels the writings of audre lorde   one of baldwin’s literary friends and contemporaries   to address conservative christian sanctioned patriarchy and misogyny. the carnivalesque “pride,” which percolates to an ebullient soca rhythm, surrounded by glitzy synth riffs, takes listeners inside what sounds like a rousing gay pride dance party from the perspective of a marginalized participant, dissecting the class stratification of the lgbtq+ community based upon gender, race and gender identity. “with ‘pride,’ i wanted to express something that kind of had a disco feel   something inside of gay glamour that sounds like sound of blackness, diana ross or sylvester. that music transforms my soul,” ndegeocello says. nevertheless, she has reservations about how some aspects of the queer community have been gobbled up for mainstream public consumption. “i miss certain aspects of the closet,” says ndegeocello. “i miss the underground myth of the music, parties and the clubs not being so commodified by the dominant culture. baldwin taught me how to think for myself as a queer person, as a woman [and] as a two spirited person. there’s a great essay about manhood and freaks that he wrote. it healed my lesbian machismo and my understanding of being a jazz musician. i wish every jazz musician would read another country. baldwin talks about how the music affects us; and how we affect the music.” other standout cuts on no more water include the bucolic “the price of the ticket” sung from the perspective of an unarmed person pleading for their safety from trigger happy police; the sanguine “love,” which examines how true love helps us, in baldwin’s words, to “take off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within”; and the transcendental “down at the cross,” on which ndegeocello sings from the perspective of baldwin facing his own demise. we don’t need no water “human freedom is a complex, difficult   and private   thing. if we can liken life, for a moment, to a furnace, then freedom is the fire which burns away illusion.”  james baldwin, nobody knows my name no more water speaks to america’s current turbulent times, especially for people of color, women and queer people in the aftermath of such recent supreme court decisions that repealed women the constitutional rights to have an abortion and ended race conscious affirmative actions in higher education. there’s also the continuous onslaught of anti lgbtq bills, involving censorship against teaching queer culture and history, denying medical care to transgender people and abolishing drag queen performances. if that’s not enough, there’s the heritage foundation’s project 2025 on the horizon, which, if trump is re elected, calls for the president to have absolute power over the executive branch. it also seeks to abolish the department of education and the environmental protection agency and partisan control of the department of justice, the federal bureau of investigation and the department of commerce, among other federal agencies. as timely and crucial as no more water is, ndegeocello worried briefly that the sentiments inside the music would be outdated, considering that she recorded it four years ago. “the fear of it being old   i had to catch myself,” she says. “i had to really think of my intention. the whole intention of this album is to perhaps [inspire] 10 out of 100 people to pick up a baldwin book and teach it in their classes. “look how prophetic he is,” she continues. “we are experiencing what he talked about. there’s the crime; and then there’s the denial of the crime, which is the sickness. and that [sickness] is in the individual on a micro level and on the macro level of what we call the united states. that sickness will seethe inside you and become cancerous when you deny the past and don’t reconcile your betrayals, lies and missteps. with this record, i’m not trying to punish you; i’m trying to help you heal.” db “the musical mission remains the same as it did 25 years ago: to make the best music possible in the given moment,” says drummer jim black of working again with trumpeter natsuki tamura. it was back in 1999 that volcanic forces were unleashed on white & blue (dutch buzz records), the second release by japanese trumpeter natsuki tamura under his name. that ferocious free improv manifesto   released on the heels of his 1997 solo trumpet debut, a song for jyaki (on leo lab, a subsidiary of the british avant garde jazz label leo records)   paired tamura on different tracks with drummers jim black and aaron alexander. a showcase of the trumpeter’s highly idiosyncratic vocabulary blending jazz lyricism with extended, otherworldly techniques on the trumpet, it recalled the adventurous, cutting edge expressions of avant garde trumpet pioneer wadada leo smith, who remains a huge influence on tamura’s current aesthetic. “he is the musician i respect the most right now,” said tamura. “he’s also a friend.” that original white & blue session emerged organically 25 years ago, as the trumpeter explained: “at the time, jim, myself and many other musicians were living in the park slope area of brooklyn, and we often hung out together. jim was already active in various bands. i had experience working in japan as a top 40 and studio musician, but i thought i could do something more interesting in new york, so i recorded duos with jim and aaron, which became white & blue.” spinning ahead 25 years after that initial encounter, tamura and black returned to the studio (this time in bern, switzerland) to record natjim (libra records). and again, the sparks flew. “we are simply two more experienced improvisers and human beings,” said black of their reunion. “the musical mission remains the same as it did 25 years ago: to make what we would consider to be the best music possible in the given moment. and as usual with us, it was a fast and furious session. no wasted notes or output. and we sound checked the minimum.” while short motifs and bits of notations that tamura established at the beginning and end of each piece provided some structural guidance, the rest was wide open for exploration. only the ninth song, “bonus,” was completely improvised. tamura covers a wide swath of textures and tones on natjim, with black alternately accompanying and engaging toe to toe with the trumpeter on his unusually deep toned kit. “that’s my one and only sonor hilite from 1989,” he said. “i so rarely get to use it on sessions, but it was a treat to play because it responds exactly as i hear the sound in my head, no compromises. and it’s tuned from very high to more low tones, just going for a wall of low dense vibe.” on the very conversational “afternoon city,” the trumpeter conjures up the “jungle sound” of early duke ellington (courtesy of bubber miley and cootie williams) with some spectacular plunger mute work. then, on the tightly crafted “morning city,” he executes some pristine, crisply articulated passages before engaging in some frantic exchanges with black as the piece reaches an ecstatic crescendo. elsewhere on this highly interactive duo outing, tamura unleashes torrents of breath driven white noise on “noisy city,” then mumbles/grunts/screams through the mouthpiece of his instrument on the audacious “bright city.” as he said, “what kind of sounds can be produced from the trumpet? does the sound that comes out match the music i’m trying to make? i’m still trying to figure that out. but i think some of those sounds i make are similar to a dog’s howling.” black, who first came to prominence in alt jazz circles of the early ’90s, especially for his work with human feel, tim berne’s bloodcount, dave douglas’ tiny bell trio and the downtown collective pachora, is the perfect complement to tamura throughout natjim. whether doubling tightly crafted unisons on his kit, underscoring with deep ginger baker like grooves, engaging in scattershot exchanges with tamura on the energetic “city of night” or settling into a meditative zone on “calm city,” black is fully engaged. “nothing was really spoken about beforehand,” he said. “and we came up with different rhythms and dynamics and velocities on the spot. that’s the beauty in working with the greatest improvisers.” pianist composer satoko fujii, who produced the album and is also tamura’s wife and musical soulmate, pointed out in her liner notes to natjim: “they sound like whirling dervishes, playing with a vigor that utterly belies their ages [tamura is 72, black is 56]. their fearless creativity is inspiring.” regarding her trumpeter husband, she added, “today, 55 years after his first playing gig in japan, his playing is as powerful as ever.” tamura, who played in his high school brass band before gigging on kyoto’s infamous negligee salon circuit as a young man, ended up joining the popular tokyo big band new herd orchestra at age 26. he later became a ubiquitous session musician on tokyo’s busy studio scene during the 1970s and finally came to the states, at age 35, to study at the berklee college of music in boston, where fujii also had studied. the couple returned to japan for six years before relocating to the states once again, this time to study at new england conservatory, where fujii studied with paul bley. tamura made his debut recording as a leader in 1993 on tobifudo with a quartet featuring fujii on piano. they released their first duo album, how many? (leo lab), in 1997 and have now recorded 11 duet projects together, the most recent being 2024’s aloft. tamura has also appeared on a dozen recordings by his wife’s acclaimed satoko fujii orchestra new york and another half dozen by her sakoko fujii orchestra tokyo. the couple currently resides in kobe, japan. so, how was septuagenarian tamura able to attack each tune on natjim with such vigor? “i think the biggest factor is that i have been able to stay healthy,” he said. “also, i know many older musicians around me who are still playing well, so maybe i am unconsciously playing in the same way. really, i just love the music, and i love playing my instrument. i think that along with staying open to new sounds and approaches helps keep things fresh.” and for black, “the key to staying vital is to surround yourself with younger people and play music with them, share music with them and allow yourself to be influenced by them as much as possible. also, further question, re investigate and develop all of your knowledge and hard earned, experienced wisdom. stay an eternal student. keep working and looking forward while also going back to the practice shed.” db multi instrumentalist joe mcphee will play on opening night of jazzfest berlin with the london organ trio decoy. jazzfest berlin has announced the program for its 60th anniversary edition, which will take place oct. 31 nov. 3 at the berliner festspiele, a trane, quasimodo and the kaiser wilhelm church. originally known as jazztage berlin (berlin jazz days), the festival first took place in 1964. while it is deservedly known for forward facing programming, 60th anniversaries demand some reflection. so, in addition to its usual selection of touring acts, specially commissioned performances and local artists, it has instituted an initiative called jazzfest research lab, for which it opened its archives and invited scholars to take a look at the festival’s history. the university of hildesheim and the university of the arts berlin have both held research seminars, the results of which will be published in the festival’s online magazine. and seven academics, including george lewis, ursel schlicht and downbeat contributor john corbett, will give talks that explore the festival’s history from the perspectives of visual presentation, gender, race, politics and the fest’s annual program magazines. explains artistic director nadin deventer, “the idea is really to make it accessible and also to have a critical analysis of what happened. it’s not only to celebrate this year, but also to learn from the past, for future years to come.” this concern with understanding the past corresponds to a thoughtful orientation towards the present, the future and the community within which the festival exists. the musical programming will include boundary pushing acts such as kris davis’ diatom ribbons, darius jones fluxkit vancouver and the pan european quartet the sleep of reason produces monsters. and beginning on oct. 28, jazzfest berlin will conduct a second initiative called community lab moabit, which will take place in moabit, a diverse neighborhood near the festival’s venues, to engage in community encounters. says deventer, “there will be workshops, there will be concerts, there will be flash mobs, there will be also talking formats because the occasion is an anniversary. this is an enterprise to step out of your comfort zone, step out of your bubble, and an invitation to a lot of participants, children, old people, musicians, non musicians, it doesn’t matter. we have refugee houses here that are participating, churches, little clubs, theaters, of course choirs and orchestras. we will have 80 kids that will be involved in this, 10 workshop leaders coming from different disciplines, 40 musicians of the jazzfest lineup of this year. on the final day of the festival, there will be spotlight on moabit with a grand finale and we will walk through that neighborhood. the jazzfest has always been funded with public money, and that money is coming from everybody, but not everybody could benefit. for 60 years, we are all in our bubbles; a lot of people don’t come. so, i thought, if they don’t come, we will step out of our theater, our clubs, and go to a community which might not feel addressed by the jazzfest berlin, or even not know that it exists. it’s not an audience development project. i think such an anniversary is an occasion to step out of the comfort zone.” the program spans four days of concerts which will run concurrently at a large concert hall and three smaller venues. it runs the gamut from younger musicians proposing new paradigms to veterans in their 70s and 80s. “as we are celebrating now 60 years, i also want to celebrate legends a bit,” says deventer. multi instrumentalist joe mcphee, who will turn 85 during the festival weekend, will play on opening night with the london organ trio decoy. another octogenarian, german pianist joachim kühn, will introduce a new trio featuring drummer sylvain darrifourcq and bassist thibault cellier, french musicians who performed at last year’s jazzfest. joe lovano will bring his trio tapestry, whose pianist, marilyn crispell, will also play a solo concert. the sun ra arkestra will return to the festival after 52 years. and the malacoda string quartet will honor the recently passed improvising cellist tristan honsinger. international selections will project the festival’s understanding of jazz as an international music. canadian drummer and composer john hollenbeck, who taught at jazz institute berlin from 2005 to 2016, will give two concerts. one is by george, his genre mashing electric quartet; the other is an expanded, multimedia version of the drum major instinct, a program informed by martin luther king’s final sermon, which will also incorporate archival jazzfest berlin television recordings projected onto multiple screens (for most of its first three decades, the festival was broadcast on german national tv). sun mi hong, a south korean drummer composer who is based in amsterdam, will lead her bida orchestra, which is a cross continental sextet. and the burgeoning swedish music scene will be represented by three ensembles. trumpeter goran kajfeš’ tropiques, currently a sextet, weds cinematic melodies to lush grooves; the 13 piece vilhelm bromander unfolding orchestra infuses don cherry informed multiculturalism with an extra dose of indian dhrupad music; and the 12 piece anna högberg extended attack commands a range from funereal dirges to free jazz catharsis. and japanese guitarist otomo yoshihide will lead his special big band, a 17 strong unit that laces boisterous but disciplined horn charts with feedback and sine waves. sylvie courvoisier will present a new project, poppy seeds. the quartet extends her long standing fondness for working with fellow pianists to another set of tuned keys: the vibraphone of patricia brennan. three other quartets   belgians de beren gieren, brooklyn’s wrens and saxophonist lakecia benjamin’s combo   will present music that deals with contemporary rhythms in intimate club sets. and three trios   oùat, devin gray’s melt all the guns and camila nebbia/kit downes/andrew lisle   will represent the broad horizons of berlin’s local scene. finally, the devastatingly accomplished vocal/piano duo of sofia jernberg and alexander hawkins, whose album musho is one of the year’s best jazz recordings, will subject ethiopian and swedish songs to fearless improvisational alchemies. db “nobody in jazz school is telling you to learn how to dance,” says bandleader eyal vilner (center). but he thinks maybe they should. when he was a music student in new york back in 2007, hanging out at smalls every night, eyal vilner, much like his classmates at the new school, was in love with bebop and hard bop   music not usually associated with dancing. how he came to lead one of the more notable swing dance orchestras in the world is a story about the fundamental connection between jazz and physical movement, whether it’s just tapping your foot or doing the lindy hop. his deeply swinging music, much of it original, is not just danceable   it’s eminently listenable. his love for swing started much earlier, in tel aviv, where he was a jazz obsessed teenager attending the city’s high school for the arts. “bird was my main inspiration,” he reminisced recently. “and dexter gordon, sonny rollins … that was the first stuff i loved and wanted to play.” he was trying to understand what it really meant to swing. his jazz history teacher gave him a cd of duke ellington’s newport 1958 album. “he said, ‘go listen to that, and you’ll get it.’” another incident with a different teacher proved just as indelible. “we were having a lesson in a basement in a suburb of tel aviv, and he said, ‘listen, you gotta feel the music!’ and he made me stand up, and he’s like, ‘we gotta move our bodies and dance.’” teacher and student moved their bodies   danced, if you will   to duke’s “cotton tail.” these days, dancing is essential to vilner’s art. now 39, he leads the eyal vilner big band in 10 piece and 17 piece iterations, each populated by top talent and rising stars on the new york jazz scene. his orchestras are highly favored by dance and lindy hop festivals around the world, including the international lindy hop championships in harlem. he is also the co creator and musical director of a jazz dance/theater production called swing out, which has played extended engagements at the joyce theater and has toured the u.s. while he loves vintage tunes, he is not content to simply reproduce danceable jazz from the middle of the 20th century. vilner, who plays alto saxophone, clarinet and flute, started to discover his voice in his 20s by writing for smaller ensembles before organizing, and writing originals for, his first big band in 2008. “i like to say the pencil is one of my instruments,” he said. his seventh album, swingin’ uptown, recorded with the tentet, includes six vilner originals. the band features established and up and coming musicians like brandon lee on trumpet, julieta eugenio on tenor saxophone, jon thomas on piano, ron wilkins on trombone and imani rousselle on vocals. “we recorded it after playing 22 shows in that month,” vilner said. “everything was done in one or two takes, all in the same room together. and we invited dancers to come into the studio and dance with us as we were recording.” vilner rejects the concept of “retro” jazz. “i’m not one of those cats who’s trying to relive the roaring ’20s or the ’30s. we’re not trying to recreate something but, rather, to be as close as possible to the source   the art form of swing dancing and lindy hopping   to create something new that is informed and influenced by it. to me, the album is a new take on what danceable jazz can be.” the dance community has reacted enthusiastically to vilner’s style of swing, and the vilner band, with its more modern leanings and original material, has become a fan favorite. the swing dance community has changed in the last few decades. where once it was mostly classic lindy hop with the man leading and the woman following, these days there are more same sex couples, and dancers feel freer to improvise. today’s swing dancers desire a broader musical palette than just classic big band music. there is also more interaction between the dancers and the band. vilner is known to come down from the stage and interact with particular dancers in a call and response manner. vilner cites tracks from the new album to demonstrate the band’s diversity of styles. “we have hard bop, like ‘i love the rhythm in a riff’; that’s a bebop tune by billy eckstine. ‘coffee bean stomp jubilee’ [an original] is new orleans style. it’s interesting to see how the different sub styles within jazz all can have a direct connection to the dance; it doesn’t need to be only from the ’30’s big band era to be danceable. it’s all jazz and all danceable.” he cites the need to play with “kavanah”   a hebrew word that means sincere feeling from the heart, something honest and soulful. “i feel that when i play for dancing   and also when i’m not playing for dancing, but the music is informed by dancing.” for vilner, as an “outsider” from the middle east coming to jazz and black american culture, discovering the concept of lindy hop, a dance born in harlem, “was as much of an educational experience as learning the other parts of jazz   transcribing the solos, reading the history and learning the blues and bebop.” he began to appreciate that “the experience of feeling the music in your body is much different than hearing it in your head and playing it. … nobody in jazz school is telling you to learn how to dance.” vilner corrected that deficit in his education by taking dance lessons himself. as a result, he started to understand more about the connection between jazz and movement. “learning the connection makes you feel some responsibility about what you play and how you play it,” he said. “it touches them, inspires them. you’re physically moving people. what could be better than that?” db cecil taylor, one of the greatest pianists of the avant garde, was taken advantage of before his death in 2018. the kyoto prize is not as well known as the guggenheim fellowship, or the macarthur grant, both of which pianist, composer and musical seeker cecil taylor received during his lifetime. but it is more exclusive   only three, or, at most, four people in the fields of science, philosophy and the arts receive it each year. in november 2013, taylor was announced as one of the three kyoto prize laureates for that year. he traveled to japan at the beginning of the month and performed at the kyoto international conference center on nov. 11, joined by longtime friend and collaborator min tanaka. taylor had been accompanied to japan by noel muir, a contractor who had befriended him while working on the building next door to taylor’s fort greene brownstone. but when they returned to new york, it became clear that muir was no friend at all. he had informed the inamori foundation that the prize money   $492,722.55   should be deposited in an account that he claimed belonged to the cecil taylor foundation. however, it was actually the account belonging to muir’s company, mcai construction. two weeks after taylor’s return from japan, the money was sent via wire transfer, and muir withdrew a sizable portion of it in cash, using the rest for his business. the fraud was reported to authorities in the summer of 2014; muir was arrested in august and charged with grand larceny. brooklyn district attorney kenneth thompson said at a press conference announcing the charges, “the defendant befriended mr. taylor and won his trust, which later made it easier for him to allegedly swindle this vulnerable, elderly and great jazz musician.” taylor, for his part, said, “what is painful in your heart is you have friends, that’s what friends are for, and if they make a mistake, hopefully the law will take care of them.” as part of the court proceedings, taylor was examined by an attorney named adam wilner in order to determine whether he was in need of a legal guardian. wilner initially met taylor in his role as court examiner, and then, with the pianist’s consent, was appointed his legal guardian. he remained in that position until taylor’s death. “basically, as a guardian i [did] all kinds of social service things from making sure he’s medically ok, making sure he’s getting to doctor’s appointments, he’s getting the right kind of medication prescribed for him, making sure that his bills are paid and his finances are being managed, that whatever assets we’re able to recover from any fraud prior to my involvement, we would recover,” he said. noel muir paid back $200,000 of the money he’d stolen shortly after being arrested, but still owed taylor the balance as the case passed through the justice system. from a cell on rikers island, he pleaded guilty in february 2016, though he filed a motion requesting new counsel, claiming his lawyer had pressured him to take the plea. ultimately, muir was sentenced on april 4, 2016, to one to three years in prison. brooklyn supreme court judge ruth shillingford, who had vacated muir’s february motion, said, “the thing about this case is that the money was taken from someone who was almost 90 years old. there’s a lot of damage done to someone at that age, when someone takes advantage of them   regardless of what the reasons are.” taylor was not present. australian filmmaker amiel courtin wilson had arrived in new york in 2014, with the intention of making an impressionistic documentary portrait of taylor. he borrowed a camera from a friend and began camping out on the pianist’s doorstep from roughly noon to 10 p.m. “on the seventh day, he opened the door at 7 p.m.,” courtin wilson recalled. “he said, ‘i’ve been watching you. you seem very patient. come inside.’” courtin wilson moved into taylor’s brownstone, where he lived off and on for the next two years. taylor wasn’t playing much piano since returning from japan, but he was mentally and physically active. “he always had, you know, four books spread out on his bed,” courtin wilson recalled. “he would practice, i would say, maybe like once a week, and then he might practice three or four hours.” the filmmaker cooked for taylor, shopped for him and helped connect him with the wider world again. “it seemed like i’d arrived at a period where he was particularly reclusive. … i mean, he definitely had his regular visitors. don’t get me wrong. there was, i would say, on average … six or nine sort of regular visitors. and then, he would read, hold court, we would talk, five, six hours a day at least, listen to music.” courtin wilson introduced taylor to youtube, showing him clips of etta james and stevie wonder; the pianist referred to it as “the infernal library machine.” courtin wilson describes taylor as “a machine. … i have so many photos of him being up until 8, 9, 10 o’clock in the morning and an array of people a third his age sleeping around him on couches and stuff   he would sometimes not sleep for close to two days.” taylor’s 87th birthday was a particularly long night in courtin wilson’s recollection. “we were at kgb until like 8 a.m., and then everyone was fading, and he was really out out. and then he wanted to go back [to brooklyn] for breakfast, and we had pancakes and a big chocolate milkshake at the local diner. it was like 11 in the morning. and i was like, ‘cecil, i’m absolutely fucked. i need to sleep, man.’ and we went home, and i slept. woke up at like 4 and he hadn’t gone to bed. he was awake until like 11 that night.” in 2015, the whitney museum had moved from its former location on madison avenue and 75th street to a new building designed by italian architect renzo piano at 99 gansevoort st., just off the west side highway and marking the southern terminus of the high line park. jay sanders, a curator of live performance events for the whitney, had been planning a large scale project with taylor since mid 2014. in december, taylor came to the museum, still under construction, and sanders gave him a tour of the fifth floor, a massive column free space with gigantic windows overlooking the highway and the hudson river on one side, and lower manhattan on the other. “the building hadn’t opened,” sanders said, “and he came in this beautiful pendleton looking coat, and we gave him a hard hat … and he saw that open floor and it was like, at that point, ‘would you like to do something here?’ and he said yes. so that was the start of it.” open plan: cecil taylor, which ran april 15 24, 2016, was a multimedia art show, an academic conference and a concert series all in one. during its 10 day run, it included poetry readings, musical performances by taylor’s former sidemen, a panel discussion on the role of dance in his work featuring dancers who had performed with him, and much more. but most important of all was that taylor himself played three times, twice at the beginning of the show and once at the end, with three different ensembles. taylor had barely touched the piano for months between his return from japan and the time the show was first conceived. but as the hour drew closer, something in him reawakened. “i still remember the night he first played, like, for real,” courtin wilson said. “it was raining and the basketball was on, and i was downstairs making dinner, and i heard the piano go. and it was a familiar kind of sound. you could hear him shuffling across to his piano, but then instead of the usual scales, this most fucking beautiful, wistful, slow, almost like blues … and it was the sound of the rain on the roof and this basketball match going and these notes, so much space between the notes, and that was the first moment i remember being so moved that he was inspired again, because at that point i’d been there on and off for almost 18 months. and then it really [was] like a dam broke. … he played a lot, because he really wanted to get fit for it.” the first performance on april 14, 2016, was with tony oxley and min tanaka, who despite being a purely visual presence seemed to be a crucial component of the music from the pianist’s perspective. oxley was too ill to get behind a kit, but had prepared cds of himself playing drums that he played through twin cd players with volume pedals, fading himself in and out; sanders called it “beautiful and strange.” the second performance that night came as a surprise. after a break, taylor played again with a group he called the new unit, featuring bobby zankel on alto saxophone, elliott levin on tenor saxophone and flute, harri sjöström on soprano saxophone, tristan honsinger on cello, albey balgochian on bass and jackson krall on drums, with poetry by jane grenier balgochian and taylor himself. writer hank shteamer, who was present for the entire evening, wrote, “there was a sort of casual aspect to the proceedings. much of the audience filed out, players made their way to the stage … and what followed was a sort of loose, old school free jazz jam. moments of inspiration, moments of tedium, but what was striking was the smile on taylor’s face.” the third and final performance, on april 24, featured another one off ensemble: harri sjöström on soprano sax, okkyung lee on cello, tony oxley on electronics and jackson krall on drums. the music began slowly, but eventually rose to a towering height, with taylor leaping and pounding his way across the keyboard and krall driving him onward with what seemed like an unbroken series of explosions. after a little more than 35 minutes of music, though, he stopped playing, and everyone else stopped, too. standing up at the keyboard, he began reading a poem, which turned into a discourse on issues of biology, human migration and the history of the artistic impulse in man. this was not poetry, it was a lecture, its theme a sustained counter to the traditional western, phallocentric narrative of (pre)history. he was arguing for blackness, for matriarchy and for the primacy of art in the human spirit. in key ways, this was a direct articulation of theories that had flowed at the heart of his music for 60 years. and after a brief return to the hyper abstract, words as sounds poetic mode in which he’d begun, he stopped and said, “thank you all, that’s it,” his voice full of life and joy. he would never perform in public again. in the months after the show, taylor withdrew. courtin wilson returned to australia; the materials from the exhibit were crated up and returned to taylor’s home in brooklyn; and adam wilner and his staff kept potentially untrustworthy people away. “i totally understand, because he’d been totally ripped off and stolen from. i totally get the need for a lawyer to vet who came to see him,” courtin wilson said. “but what was really tragic to me was it seemed as though as less and less people were deemed trustworthy to see cecil … it seemed to accelerate his deterioration in my mind, which i thought was very sad.” even if he was receding into dementia   which some claimed, and others denied   it was part of a larger shift. a kinder, gentler version of the infamously volatile taylor emerged. “certain things that had previously driven him had dissipated with age, maturity,” said longtime friend robert levin. “i think he knew that he had achieved what he had set out to do, at least in some measure … and that enabled him to relax, and to be more indulgent of other people’s needs and characters.” cecil taylor died in his sleep, at home in brooklyn, on april 5, 2018. the word had spread in the new york musical community that he was very ill, and he had been surrounded by friends and former collaborators for several days before his passing. a few days later, a memorial service was held at the frank e. campbell memorial chapel on madison avenue in manhattan. “i had nothing to say that i hadn’t already said in a couple of things that i wrote, and it was too personal,” levin said. “you know, he didn’t need me to eulogize him. … i didn’t even go to the coffin. i didn’t want to see him dead. i had already seen him die. i stayed away from the coffin and stayed out of anything i was hearing about what arrangements were being made. i mean, he wasn’t there anymore. wherever they put his body made no difference.” taylor’s body was cremated, but his ashes were interred at woodlawn cemetery in the bronx, where many notable jazz musicians are buried, including duke ellington, miles davis, ornette coleman and max roach. taylor died without a will, and as of this writing there are multiple competing factions trying to lay claim to his estate. lawrence kumpf of the nonprofit blank forms has been working to set up a foundation and preserve his work. kumpf quickly realized that he was going to have to take a very active role if he wanted to preserve any materials at all. “i was in touch with adam wilner initially because cecil and i had been working on a book of [his] poetry together, and i wanted to complete that process. and then one day adam was just like, ‘i’m not involved in this anymore,’ and he directed me to kings county. so i went in and … offered to advise them on some of the materials at the house and just sort of explained to them that he was an important figure and they shouldn’t just, like, sell his stuff off at a flea market, which is normally what they do.” hired as a consultant, he boxed up everything that remained in the house, documenting all of it and placing it in storage. one particular item was treated with special reverence: taylor’s yamaha piano, which had lived in the house for decades. “right now it’s at the smithsonian in d.c.,” kumpf said, “it’s in storage waiting for the estate to be settled and the paperwork to be filed so they can permanently integrate it into their collection.” db vocalist norma winstone writes of lost love, melancholy and dreams on her new recording with pianist kit downes. u.k. vocalist norman winstone took the title of her new album, outpost of dreams, from the first piece that she and pianist kit downes had ever written together: his music, her lyrics. she listened over and over again to downes’ melancholic instrumental until the words began to take shape. “i remember the starting line,” winstone said. “it’s about a feeling of losing somebody, and there’s no way you can find them.” the song’s last line, though, gives the album its thematic title: “i thought that i heard you today/the slow drip, drip of a fantasy/i’m almost submerging/in this lonely outpost of dreams.” conveying such strong emotions   without a whiff of the maudlin or precious   is winstone’s bailiwick as both a lyricist and vocal interpreter of modern jazz composition. her lyric writing in particular stands out for its captivating imagery: “a timeless place”   her poetic adaptation of pianist jimmy rowles’ breathless ballad “the peacocks”   has become something of a vocal jazz classic, recorded by singers as distinguished as mark murphy, tierney sutton and jazzmeia horn. winstone’s authorial intent seems eminently personal, almost private. and she writes to her own vocal mien, suited for more sparing melodic lines and nuanced jazz soundscapes. such vulnerability is all the more visible in a duo setting like outpost of dreams, where winstone’s vocals stand starkly against the minimal background of downes’ intuitive playing. creatively, there is no place to hide. the idea of recording an album together   and a duo record specifically   was downes’. winstone and downes had first met when he was subbing for nikki iles, winstone’s regular trio pianist, on a london gig; the easy musical rapport between the two had sparked that initial conversation. it was only a coincidence that soon thereafter ecm contacted winstone about doing another album, the first for her longstanding label after a six year hiatus. given downes’ professed interest in recording together, she asked him to join her on the project. “kit loved the duo recording that i did with [pianist] john taylor, like song, like weather, and he preferred to use just voice and piano,” winstone recalled. “[by then] we’d done one or two concerts together, and they were always last minute   but it seemed to work because i love the sense of danger in music. that’s why i loved working with john taylor   you never knew what was going to happen. it could go anywhere.” during the 50 plus years of her career, winstone herself has garnered accolades for her ability to “go anywhere” vocally, whether reframing a standard, fronting jazz ensembles of any size or exploring experimental vocal improvisation. she’s been known mostly for the latter, however, especially with the avant garde trio azimuth, formed in 1977 with her then husband taylor and trumpeter kenny wheeler. winstone first recorded for ecm as a part of azimuth and has since appeared on more than a dozen of the label’s releases. her ecm work gained a new audience when rapper drake sampled a track from azimuth’s eponymous debut on his 2023 album for all the dogs; a one minute clip from “the tunnel,” featuring winstone’s etheric voice and pensive lyrics, opens “idgaf,” one of drake’s chart topping singles. that azimuth’s sound still resonates with artists and listeners alike almost 50 years on speaks to the universality of its appeal   due in no small part to winstone’s contributions. the 10 track lineup on outpost of dreams furthers this legacy. the opener, “el”   the second of downes’ four compositions on the album   brims with forward motion and optimism, and downes’ lullaby like solo (honoring his young daughter) shows how expertly this composer commandeers simplicity. by contrast, “nocturne,” a piece that he’d originally written for classical piano, proved more difficult as a rangy vocal piece, but winstone meets downes’ harmonic challenge with her haunting, resolute lyrics. last, downes fashioned a free composition to enhance winstone’s spoken word performance on “in search of sleep,” a sorrowful musing that underscores the album’s reflective theme. the pair also tackled selections by some of winstone’s earlier co creators: the rhythmic “fly the wind,” with music by taylor, afforded winstone the space to play with an equally cadenced vocalese line. and composer ralph towner’s “beneath an evening sky,” a time shifting elegy, became a free exposition under downes’ touch, prompting some of the most romantic lyrics on the record. winstone also wanted to include carla bley’s “jesus maria,” drawn by its tricky, intervallic melody. not knowing that the tune already had words, she wrote her own delicate verse, with a nod from steve swallow, bley’s longtime partner. (of note, winstone and swallow, frequent collaborators, are releasing their own duo album on ecm later this year.) winstone also found herself captivated by a radio broadcast of fiddler aidan o’rourke’s “every morning she steps out of the back door,” only to realize at its end that downes was the other half of the on air duo (playing harmonium, no less). she chose to add the song to the album, retitled as “out of the dancing sea,” her sensate lyrics retaining all of the original’s joyous feel. finally, toward the end of the record, winstone added two traditional tunes: the celtic air “black is the color,” with the original words, in a surprise turn as an expressionistic jazz tune, and “rowing home,” a scandinavian folk song reharmonized by downes. in this final track, winstone’s lyrics again return to a sense of loss: “the perfect moment is gone,” she sings. after the album’s july release, winstone had several gigs booked throughout the u.k., with one of special interest: the we out here jazz festival, with her two sons, drummer leo taylor and singer/guitarist alex taylor. for this particular show she planned to pull from both her first solo record, edge of time (arco), and her sons’ album with their father, 2081 (cam jazz), released after his passing in 2015. post drake, she said, given the renewed interest in her 1970s work, she wanted to call the project “edge of time revisited.” “i don’t know what might come of that,” she added. “but i’m up for exploring.” as always. db holman’s writing or playing was documented in an astounding 552 jazz sessions over the course of more than 70 years. chronology aligned the timeline of bill holman’s music education with a remarkable precision, positioning him to intersect with a destiny that in 1998 led critic gary giddins to pronounce him perhaps “the premier living jazz orchestrator.” when he died on may 6 in olive, california, two weeks and a day short of his 97th birthday, his career had clocked nearly a century of big band history from ballroom jitterbugs to classroom academics. born in 1927, he reached early adolescence as the first swing bands hit him like a missile at an impressionable age. his ear was inspired by the sweeping flights of benny goodman and artie shaw, leading him to take up the clarinet when he was 12. the writings of jimmy mundy, eddie durham, jerry gray and fletcher henderson grounded him in the fundamentals of the jazz ensemble. by high school the more nuanced vocabulary of eddie sauter, sy oliver and strayhorn ellington was expanding the literary horizons of swing. they were his immediate generational predecessors as world war ii briefly stalled his trajectory as a musician, composer and arranger. by the time holman exited the navy in 1946, big bands were nearing life support, no longer the arbiters of popular music. as their commercial supremacy dimmed, however, their artistic options flourished. they found new frontiers of expression and more implicit ways to swing. no longer expected to generate hit records, producers let them have their way, and a young generation of composer arrangers (bill russo, shorty rogers, george russell, johnny mandel, bob brookmeyer, ernie wikins) were liberated to follow their muse and experiment with new thinking. this was the state of the big band when holman abandoned a budding engineering career to study music under the g.i. bill with wesley laviolette, whose other pupils included shorty rogers, neal hefti, andre previn, jimmy giuffre, even stan kenton and nelson riddle. in december 1948 he made his first records on tenor with the ike carpenter band. it was the beginning of what would become one of the most prolific footprints in jazz history. holman’s career would continue for more than 70 years, during which his writing or playing would be documented in an astounding 552 jazz sessions   more than any contemporary arranger of the post war generation, including quincy jones (273), hefti (424) and rogers (509). his vast library lives on in jazz education. holman’s most direct early influences were russ garcia, with whom he studied, and gene roland, who brought him into kenton’s imperial orbit early in 1952. it’s hard today to imagine how hot kenton was then. literally all of the great legacy big bands were either gone or struggling. but in 1954 kenton’s stature swept him into the down beat hall of fame (third after louis armstrong and glenn miller). initially holman sat in the kenton reed section, but his arranging skills surfaced quickly. “when i joined stan, i could write,” he told downbeat’s don gold in 1957. “but i didn’t have a conception of my own. fortunately, stan was patient. the first six months i didn’t write anything, but i got to associate with some of the inspiring people in the band. when i started to write, stan accepted everything i turned in.” that was because the kenton band in the early ’50s was a progressive think tank of restless intellectuals. many of the smartest young writers of holman’s generation had converged around kenton, who was hungry for challenging new ideas. the variety and depth of the collective repertoire were as rich as they were controversial, often within the kenton ranks. kenton was indulgent. “after i quit,” holman later recalled in db, “i tore the band down verbally to [stan]. he went right out and recorded an album of my music. i thought that was extraordinary.” holman became a pillar of the kenton creative brain trust with its “positive antagonism.” in 1991 mosaic records collected the definitive portrait of that period in stan kenton: the complete capitol recordings of the holman and russo charts. holman thought of forming a band in the late ’50s. but the security of kenton was too valuable to trade for a solo life. it remained his principal platform through the decade, as he divided his time between playing, writing, and studying. born and raised in southern california, holman was at home among the rising modern stars of the west coast jazz scene, most of whom were card carrying kentonites or fellow travelers. he recorded only six albums as leader between 1954 and 1960, all accompanied by kenton alums and the cream los angeles studio men. there wouldn’t be another for 27 years. beyond holman’s documented jazz discography, hollywood offered many lucrative but uncredited opportunities. he played on the soundtrack sessions of the sweet smell of success. and when his 1952 “invention for guitar and trumpet” somehow found its way into blackboard jungle three years later, no one was more surprised than holman. “it was one of the worst pieces i ever wrote,” he later told downbeat, “but i’ve made more money on it than anything else of mine.” in 1992 he arranged the soundtrack score for glengarry glen ross. l.a. was an atmosphere in which commerce and art enjoyed an accommodating détente. it allowed the creative jazz impulse to explore far and wide, but in the comfort of a good life. holman was not an avant gardist. his was loyal to his jazz roots. “i’ve always tried to write things that sound like jazz,” he explained to downbeat. “no bach revisited. … i always write as if i’m playing. when i write i often play passages on my horn in order to preserve the improvised mood. usually, i find a fragment and build on that. i come up with the fragment by thinking in jazz terms. i’ve never used a melody that is classical sounding. … it’s the correct plane for jazz.” perhaps that’s the reason so many different bandleaders   woody herman, harry james, terry gibbs, benny goodman, buddy rich   felt safe in holman’s hands; why leaders as diverse as kenton and count basie each could build whole albums around his writing: kenton showcase: the music of bill holman (capitol, 1954) and i told you so: count basie (pablo, 1976). holman scored “norwegian wood,” “ready mix” and “midnight cowboy medley” for rich. vocalists sought out holman: sarah, ella, peggy lee, patti page, natalie cole and tony bennett. in his later years he worked and recorded with many of the finest european ensembles. db saxophonist lakecia ​benjamin (left) was joined onstage by australian trumpeter and trombonist james morrison during her d.c. jazzfest performance. the 20th anniversary of the d.c. jazzfest (aug. 28 sept. 2) commenced with a bang. alto saxophonist lakecia benjamin gave the musical equivalent of a radiant fireworks display inside the embassy of australia. leading a crackling quartet with drummer e.j. strickland, bassist elias bailey and keyboardist oscar perez, benjamin strutted across the stage and engaged the audience as if they were attending a rousing hip hop concert. hip hop esthetics certainly played an integral role in benjamin’s concert, especially when she grabbed the mic and spat a few rapid rhymes from her empowering composition “let go.” also, during an incendiary duel with strickland, she quoted the signature line from the jbs’ “pass the peas,” a funky soul groove long embraced by hip hop artists. yet benjamin imbued other strains of black american musical excellence into the framework of modern bebop. she deftly threaded the needle between scalding walking the bar blues and head nod inducing modal jazz with snippets of ’60s motown revue and sweaty nights at the apollo theatre thrown in the mix. nevertheless, she proved to be more of a cunning alchemist of the various idioms than a mere chameleon prone to callow pastiche. benjamin powered her diamond hard alto tone, spiky motivic attacks and searing improvisations on material drawn mostly from her recent albums, phoenix reimagined (2024), phoenix (2023) and pursuance: the coltranes (2020). her quartet plowed hard on such driving pieces as a serrated, latin tinged take on john coltrane’s “spiral” and an exhilarating romp through “my favorite things.” for sure, coltrane’s influence burst forth unapologetically. but so did shards of johnny griffin and kenny garrett. in fact, she tipped her hat toward the latter by quoting his early aughts anthem, “happy people.” still, benjamin was in full command of her influences as she superbly projected her own magnetic personality. and to illustrate that she’s not just a pyrotechnical, one trick pony, she serenaded the crowd with a sumptuous take on vernon duke’s classic ballad “i can’t get started.” considering that the concert was held at the embassy of australia, and acknowledging the d.c. jazzfest’s knack for fostering international cultural exchanges, it comes as no surprise that benjamin would be joined by one of down under’s finest jazz musicians: trumpeter and trombonist james morrison. like benjamin, morrison is a spark plug of a musician, capable of creating his own musical fireworks. when he joined benjamin on stage, he not only provided a complementary frontline horn, but he often matched her intensity by spitting quicksilver runs on the trumpet with the virtuosic dexterity and sizzle that recalled dizzy gillespie and jon faddis at the heights of their powers. together, benjamin and morisson shifted the vibe from mostly explosive modal jazz excursions to simmering, hip shaking soul jazz. perez played more organ; strickland laid down more soul powered backbeats; benjamin and morrison engaged in the frothy banter of jovial one upmanship that elated the enthusiastic crowd. benjamin’s performance on the opening night was just the tip of the festival’s superlative lineup, most of which performed at the district’s warf. the international cast included such returning stars as jacob collier, samara joy, d nice, dianne reeves, nicholas payton and ron carter. the best of the returning stars, however, was terri lyne carrington, who delivered one of the festival’s most memorable concerts with her new standards project celebrating women composers. she steered a rotating cast of musicians (bassist ben williams; pianists marta sanchez, kris davis and gerald clayton; trumpeters josh evans, brandon woody and nicholas payton; singers dianne reeves and christie dasheill; guitarist bill frisell; harpist brandee younger; saxophonist greg osby; and dancer christiana hunte) through an elastic prism of modern jazz that often nudged toward the avant garde   especially during her duet with davis on the suspenseful “sympodial sunflower,” an intriguing take on marilyn crispell’s “rounds” featuring frisell and on a majestic makeover of alice coltrane’s “blue nile,” which featured younger’s celestial harp work and osby’s serpentine alto lines. carrington’s enthralling set was complemented by a multimedia exhibition, new standards, co presented by the d.c. jazz fest, the carr center and the berklee institute of jazz and gender justice. the exhibition showcased sculptures, video instillations, collages and other interdisciplinary works of women jazz artists. db ​upcoming broken record podcasts will spotlight blue note artists norah jones, meshelle ndegeocello, julian lage, ron carter and charles lloyd. starting oct. 15, jazz enthusiasts can listen in as broken record podcast host justin richmond interviews musicians norah jones, meshell ndegeocello, julian lage, ron carter and charles lloyd about their storied careers. the lage interview will include a special musical performance by the artist. the interviews are part of an exclusive collaboration between broken record and blue note records celebrating 85 years of the historic jazz label. the broken record podcast targets a new audience of music lovers in a world where album liner notes are quickly becoming a thing of the past, according to richmond, who is the producer and co host of broken record with writer malcolm gladwell, journalist bruce headlam and music producer rick rubin. “for generations of music lovers, the liner notes on albums were a central part of the way music was heard. you bought an album and it came with an accompanying narrative: a digression, an aside, a backstory   maybe even an invented history,” richmond said. “we intuitively understood that great music required not just listening but conversation between the artist and the audience and the audience and the rest of the world. broken record is a podcast that restarts those conversations.” for more information, click here. db “if i rewind to 10 years ago, i was an explorer,” says collier. “now i’m an artist and an explorer.” jacob collier started to build his fanbase back in 2011 when he began sharing intoxicating arrangements to popular songs on youtube. one of those fans was quincy jones, who in 2015 flew to ronnie scott’s jazz club in london to watch collier’s solo show. jones began managing him soon afterward. the rest, as they say, is history … but not quite. just turning 30   with five studio albums and four world tours under his technicolored belt   the multi instrumentalist, producer, arranger and educator is just getting started. collier has been described by fans and the press as a genius and a musical prodigy, and such praise is backed up by the likes of jones and herbie hancock   his chosen “godfathers”   as well as film score composer producer hans zimmer and chris martin of coldplay. such descriptors don’t appear to faze the young english musician, whose first four albums yielded a total of six grammy awards. music is in collier’s blood. his mother, suzie collier, is a violinist, conductor and professor at the royal academy of music; she had followed in almost the exact same footsteps as her father, derek collier. if you see jacob perform with an orchestra, as he often does, you’ll likely spot his mom. collier could be called the first crossover jazz infused star of the digital age. his youtube versions of popular tracks like stevie wonder’s “don’t you worry ’bout a thing” and gershwin’s “fascinating rhythm” demonstrated a rare level of talent, and not just in reference to his age. in his split screen videos, collier plays a band’s worth of instruments, from drums to upright bass to keyboards, and performs harmony vocals divided into eight parts. his bedroom based feats of ingenuity led directly to his first studio album, in my room (membrane international/must have jazz/qwest), released in 2016. the djesse period came next. collier released a series of four albums between 2018 and 2024, each of them with distinct characters and showcasing remarkable virtuosity in harmony and composition. they boasted impressive lineups   not only featuring some of the biggest names in jazz, but chart topping pop stars, too, from alicia keys to british rapper stormzy. in total, collier has worked with more than 150 collaborators. the most notable collaborator of all, perhaps, is his audience. in 2019, collier began to experiment with turning his audiences into split harmony choirs. in fact, it’s this creative move that inspired the direction of djesse vol. 4, but collier’s infatuation with the voice began much earlier. “if i look back at my earliest musical fascinations when i was aged 16 or 17   recording in that room in london   they were all about the human voice,” he says. collier is not guilty of gatekeeping. he frequently teaches master classes in music theory; at age 23, he took part in a 15 minute video on harmony for wired, explaining the concept to viewers through five levels of difficulty from “child” level through “herbie hancock” level, and, yes, hancock shows up in the video. it went viral, with 15 million people watching collier exchange wisdom with the legend. days before his 30th birthday on aug. 2, collier took a pause during one of the last dates of his u.s. tour to talk with downbeat from a diner in cincinnati. he was delivered a hamburger and fries as the conversation began. moments later, a mega fan approaches the table. “i’m very sorry,” collier says. “i can’t take a picture right now. i’m in an interview.” all the while, he politely refuses to bite into his burger as we talk, despite encouragement. he speaks with vibrant enthusiasm, as if this were the first and last interview he’d ever done. he is the most animated, excited to be alive musician you could ever hope to meet. tina edwards: i would love to ask you to reflect on your four djesse albums, now that the final album, vol. 4, has been released. do you find that each one has a different character? jacob collier: i do. when i laid out the four album plan at the end of 2017, i knew that i wanted them to each be distinct, sonically. i knew that vol. 1 was going to be orchestral and vast, vol. 2 would be acoustic and intimate, vol. 3 would be more experimental and digital sounding, then vol. 4 was just a question mark   i didn’t know! when i listen back to them now, they definitely hold an identity sonically, but i can also sense the person i was in each chapter; how i was amassing this experience, my priorities, my skill set   there’s a sort of north star that shone through the whole thing that led me to make certain decisions. edwards: how did you solve the question mark behind vol. 4? collier: the interesting thing was that i really didn’t know what it was going to look like; i didn’t have a sense of it. i wasn’t traveling [due to covid restrictions], and like many other artists around the world, i was just a bit thrown by the lack of people and the lack of reality that was surrounding the work i was doing. it took until i went on tour in 2022 to really figure out what the identity of that one was. ultimately, it was the audience choir that kicked it into being. it was standing on a stage and pushing the envelope within myself of what audiences can do when they’re singing or when they’re directed in interesting ways that completely rocked my socks off. that ended up being the anchor point of the album. not just musically, but kind of spiritually. edwards: you’ve often used the voice very creatively, starting with your own vocal arrangements on youtube. but what was the first moment where you thought about turning a live audience into a choir? collier: it dates back to my first memories of being a human. when i was 2, i used to watch my mom conduct the chamber orchestra at the royal academy of music   she still does it to this day. it was an amazing thing to watch her conduct and for the musicians to just spring into life. it’s like casting a spell; i can’t unsee that. i never thought of myself as a conductor of any kind. then, when i started going on tour with a one man show, i think i got excited about the audience getting involved. it wasn’t until the end of 2019 that i first did the thing where i divide them into three parts and then move the parts up and down in pitch. they would move by themselves, and it was a truly profound moment of realization for me because there was the feeling that it’s so much bigger than me; i’m tapping into an understanding that everybody in the world has. as long as they’ve ever heard music, there’s a sense that they understand what to do. i feel both at my biggest, but also in a sense at my smallest, in a beautiful way. i feel like a pixel in the image, but i don’t feel like a main character in it. i still feel like i’m just scratching the surface, and i’ve been exploring it for five years. edwards: does it take courage to explore ideas like these? if so, what does courage look like to you? collier: connecting with people always takes courage of some kind, right? it begins with the courage to look within yourself and figure out who you are, where you are, what matters to you, what interests you   and build a language out of those things. then it becomes the courage to share that stuff. i think every artist on the face of the earth … experiences that feeling. it’s a strange culture for creating things, because i feel like in some ways there’s quite a pressure to be ready immediately. pressure to come out of the gates knowing all the answers, knowing who you are, knowing what you want to say. i’ve embraced, over the years, the courage to take time. edwards: your music theory knowledge feels infinite. i’m wondering how that affects your music making? does the knowledge overwhelm you, or liberate you? collier: that’s a big question. i think of my love for music as having increased in resolution over time. what i mean by that is, i feel in an exciting way that if i hear something, or i play something, i’m able to understand both on an emotional level and then also on a technical level, the components that make it useful or meaningful or funny or interesting. then there’s also the part of music that no one really understands and can never understand, which is the magic and the mystery of it. i’ve definitely spent a lot of time over the years deepening my understanding of things i love and reverse engineering stuff. if i hear something i like, i’ll think, “why do i like that? what is this? how does this work? where does this want to move? what are the emotional properties of this?” the thing i’ve come to realize   especially as an artist   is that if i rewind to 10 years ago, i was an explorer. now i’m an artist and an explorer. you can’t expect people to be moved by ideas or information. the only thing that can move a person is a person, right? so the best thing you can do as an artist is to embrace the idea of building a language out of the things that make you you. the stuff that feels the most you out of everything, you acquire that, and you stretch it and you understand it. i would say, in a sense, when i’m writing music or playing music now, i’m not sitting there counting up numbers and solving equations and things with theory. in fact, i don’t think about theory at all   it’s kind of disappeared for me in a sense. edwards: let’s revert back to 10 years ago for a moment; you were building a name for yourself as the u.k. jazz scene was picking up steam. did you feel a part of it? collier: to go back a couple steps further than that, i grew up deeply interested and fascinated by a lot of different kinds of music, including jazz. i remember there was a jazzfm compilation cd that ruled my car for the first 10 years of my life; i know every note of every song. but in the same car, there was bartók, bobby mcferrin, queen, sting and stevie wonder. so, i think the first time i ever really encountered jazz as a defined concept was when i was about 16. i was starting to get really interested in harmony. i’ve always been absolutely obsessed with chords and what happens when you collide them in unusual, interesting ways. so that led me to start to explore the jazz scene as a student. edwards: tell us about studying at the royal academy of music in london. collier: i studied there, aged 16, in the junior jazz department, and i auditioned for that on both bass and piano. i wasn’t sure which to play, but i was encouraged to do piano as that’s where the chords are. i never really went into the jazz education system thinking that on the other side, i would be a jazz musician. i guess the time i felt the closest to the jazz scene was when i was studying it. when i left the academy, halfway through my degree, i had this fierce hunger for expanding on the language of the things i was learning within the jazz world, but taking a step far beyond. i didn’t think too much about genre and what kind of genre i wanted to live in, and i still don’t really think about that. maybe i think about that now less than ever before. edwards: your music and your mind have been championed by some of the greatest living legends, from quincy jones, who signed you in 2014, to herbie hancock and wayne shorter. is there anything they’ve shared with you that has influenced your music making process? collier: quincy and herbie are like my two godfathers! it’s been the most extraordinary privilege to get to know them. some of the knowledge, wisdom and advice i’ve got from them is unsaid; it comes from hanging out and through osmosis. quincy often talks about the balance between science and soul. it’s the idea of understanding the criteria, the materials at play, the tool kit you have; his science has defined the game, but it’s his soul that has moved people. i forget when i’m hanging out with herbie that he’s not 18. he’s one of these people that is so excited by life. because of his deep buddhist studies over the past 50 plus years, i think he’s very connected to the world. he’s the kind of spiritual being who is limitless; not opaque or intimidating. he wants to bring you into it. he also plays how he feels. those two have really changed my life. me and wayne shorter have gone back so many years, and i remember wayne shorter once saying to me, “play what you wish for.” it’s just one of those extreme bits of advice that hits you. edwards: you have a unique outlook; how do you see the world? collier: i see people as needing people more than they’ve ever needed people before. the world right now is more open, more vulnerable, more colorful than it’s ever been. it’s an interesting time to be creating music and creating things in the world. i think it’s a challenging time to be creating things and to be a human in this world as well. foundationally, what i have noticed just from experiences, is that you get to design the world you live in based on how you see it. this is one of the things i’ve spoken to herbie about   and it’s a nuanced thing to articulate   but herbie does such a good job of it. if you look for fear in the world, you find it everywhere. if you look for doubt, if you look for cracks, then you find them. it’s true that a lot of things in the world right now are scary and unknown, and there aren’t clear answers to a lot of the world’s biggest problems. the other side of it is also true: if you look for love in the world, you will find it everywhere, in everything. sometimes it’s so deeply in disguise, but really everyone’s just trying to love in the best way they know how. db cindy blackman santana will be among the performers at the inaugural san diego tijuana international jazz festival. while politicians proclaim crisis on the u.s. and mexico border, one jazz producer sees perfect harmony. on oct. 4 6, the inaugural san diego tijuana international jazz festival launches with a lineup that should make border crossings the most popular activity of the weekend. the festival, being produced by san diego jazz ventures, will feature concerts across the southern california/baja california region, focusing on the area’s musical comaraderie and expansiveness. “we launched san diego jazz ventures in 2020 with the goal to create a major jazz festival that would be binational in scope,” said dan atkinson, festival founder and executive director. “to me as a native san diegan, our location on the border, adjacent to the increasingly vibrant city of tijuana, is a unique asset that opens a world of opportunities for people who live and work here. the designation of our two cities as the world design capital provided the catalyst to bring our vision for the festival into reality, with the collaboration of some very essential partners from both sides of the border.” this year’s lineup focuses on musicians who have deep cross border ties, like san diego trumpeter gilbert castellanos’ sextet featuring pianist gerald clayton, rolling stones saxophonist karl denson and dizzy gillespie drummer ignacio berroa. the lineup also includes mexico city born, new york based vocalist magos herrera, whose aire project combines her jazz quartet and san diego’s hausmann string quartet; tijuana’s nortec collective; cindy blackman santana; and latin jazz/funk band sure fire soul ensemble. ensenada trumpeter, composer, educator and bandleader ivan trujillo, an artistic advisor to the san diego tijuana international jazz festival, also will be featured with his band. the music takes place at the california center for the arts concert hall in escondido, tijuana’s avenida revolución and quartyard in downtown san diego’s east village. for more information, visit sdtjjazz.org. db makaya mccraven will perform at brooklyn’s bric jazzfest on oct. 18. bric, a multi disciplinary arts and media institution based in brooklyn, new york, has announced the return of the bric jazzfest, which will run oct. 17 19 at bric house (647 fulton st.). since its inception in 2015, bric jazzfest has presented the next generation of cutting edge jazz talent at bric house alongside some of the biggest names in the genre. the festival fosters opportunities for rising stars like artist curator brandee younger, who has grown from a young performer at the first ever bric jazzfest in 2015 to bric’s esteemed 2024 curatorial partner. “bric jazzfest 2015 was a transformative experience,” younger said. “the backstage energy was electric, and witnessing kamasi washington’s live debut was a career defining moment. to return as curator a decade later is surreal. beyond the thrill of performing, i’m deeply honored to celebrate this incredible community of artists. seeing dear friends ascend to headlining status and discovering fresh talent is a dream come true.” set across two stages and three nights, this year’s bric jazzfest lineup includes drummer, composer and producer makaya mccraven (oct. 18); saxophonist, arranger, composer and educator lakecia benjamin (oct. 19); groundbreaking harpist brandee younger with her trio featuring rashaan carter and allan mednard (oct. 17); bassist reggie workman (oct. 19); drummer, producer and educator terri lyne carrington’s art of living project (oct. 18); vocalist and poet allysha joy (oct. 19); spanish composer, trumpeter and flugelhorn player milena casado (oct. 17); panama born, chicago based drummer and dj daniel villarreal (oct. 18); and bassist, singer and composer mali obomsawin (oct. 17). to view the full bric jazzfest 10th anniversary lineup, click here. db ​mats gustafsson at this year’s edition of jazzfest saalfelden in saalfelden, austria. the best jazz festivals in the world tend to construct a kind of temporary community each year, not only bringing together throngs of listeners both devoted and casual, obsessive and curious, but often overlooked is how organizers also assemble pre existing communities of musicians in new locales. whether artists visit a festival as a stop on a bigger tour or make a one off appearance, there’s often a dazzling critical mass of talent gathered in a single spot for a few days. sadly, a lot of festivals pass up an opportunity to subtly showcase such community gatherings. they might occur backstage, out of the view of attendees, but many of the strongest festivals present a side of that exchange on their public stages. beyond revealing the close sense of camaraderie shared by creative musicians, such programming provides an invaluable look at how the actual jazz ecosystem functions these days. such activity is common at the long running jazzfest saalfelden, nestled in a picturesque valley marked by austria’s breathtaking alps, and it was in full force during the 2024 edition of the gathering, which ran aug. 22 25. given the financial difficulties of the working jazz musician, it’s increasingly commonplace for individuals to belong to numerous ensembles, whether as a leader, side person or collective member. this practice reflects both the economic necessity of earning income from a variety of projects to survive, but, more interestingly, as part of a big picture need to reflect the full range and interest of many players. as listeners we enjoy variety, but for many musicians it’s almost a requirement to explore one’s full artistic diapason. thus, the programming at jazzfest saalfelden offered a unique opportunity to experience disparate facets of some of the world’s greatest improvisers by letting them present work in very different situations. swedish reedist and composer mats gustafsson is well known for his relentless work ethic and sprawling aesthetic tendencies, so it felt appropriate that he was a part of four wildly varied performances during the festival. i wasn’t able to attend an early morning duo set he played with trumpeter nate wooley as the pair drifted around the ritzensee in a small rowboat, but i did catch him in three other settings, each revealing assorted facets of his multi pronged practice, none more exciting that a first time trio with the austrian turntablist dieb13 (aka dieter kovacic) and spanish pianist jordina millà, who lives in nearby salzburg. the nonchalant push and pull of the three musicians was remarkable. dieb13 eschewed extremes with his three turntable setup, usually drawing coloristic, sustained sounds from unidentifiable recordings of experimental and improvised music which he manipulated through repetition, turntable speed, friction and overlap to generate a fertile sound stream that both provided his collaborators with countless portals into new spontaneous directions and allowed him to provide his own running commentary and interventions. millà, who recently demonstrated her strong grasp of contemporary music practices on an excellent duo album with bassist barry guy on ecm, toggled between passages of rhapsodic melancholy drawn more from classical tradition than jazz and elaborate prepared piano and inside her instrument tinkering. sandwiched between these two inventive sound makers, gustafsson deftly moved between flute, baritone saxophone, slide saxophone and even harmonica, moving between spasmodic gestures, abraded drones and knotted curlicues. for nearly an hour the performance flowed seamlessly from episode to episode, each musician adroitly aware of their surroundings. gustafsson also led his hard hitting band the end through selections in its repertoire, but the most exciting moments offered a hint of a new shift in the band’s sound away from heavy rock vibes toward a more meditative folk flavor. on one particular piece guitarist anders hana moved to the traditional norwegian zither like langeleik while singer sofia jernberg intoned a folk melody with crystalline precision, eventually veering into a bit of kulning, a scandinavian vocal technique used in herding. as they cast a spell with their delicate interplay, gustafsson and saxophonist kjetil møster played gauzy, meditative unison lines that took the music into otherworldly terrain. gustafsson also played abstract sounds in ifaname, a new trio with bassist johan berthling, his bandmate in the trio fire!, and electronics maven jan st. werner of mouse on mars. the new trio seems to still be finding its footing, but when gustafsson and st. werner locked in with shape shifting blurts and bloops over the bassist’s muscular constructions its promise was clear. likewise, pianist sylvie courvoisier excelled in a freely improvising trio with drummer nasheet waits and reedist ned rothenberg, delivering a thrilling series of exchanges ranging from sound oriented gesture to groove driven extrapolation. her mastery of internal piano manipulations veered often veered toward the rhythmic, vividly enmeshed into the infectiously off kilter funk judiciously meted out by the drummer between bracing cymbal play. rothenberg gamely adapted to each shift, moving between reedy clarinet and nasally alto saxophone, long tones and post bop momentum depending on circumstance. later in the fest the pianist led her ambitious chimaera project, implanting incisive extended improvisations from a cast including trumpeter wooley, vibraphonist patricia brennan, and electric guitarist christian fennesz within lithe compositions by turns cinematically atmospheric and meticulously turbulent. there were also plenty of dazzling one offs, including the european debut of pianist kris davis’ new trio with bassist robert hurst and drummer johnathan blake. they opened the set with “little footsteps,” a tune named for the way the pianist’s child prances around the family home, and the trio played with the groove so naturally that it couldn’t help but reflect a joyful sense of newly discovered mobility, although there was nothing child like in the virtuosic malleability. davis told the audience that playing with the veteran hurst was a dream fulfilled, explaining his mastery of the vamp before they launched into a tune where he demonstrated that astonishing skill. austrian trumpeter franz hautzinger, a pioneer in mapping out the use of unpitched breaths and weightless abstractions, revealed a sharp 180 degree turn in his set leading regenorchester xvii, summoning the spirit of early ’70s miles davis through his effects heavy blowing, the funk groove of drummer lukas könig, and the ferociously dueling guitars of fennesz and martin siewert, although the second half of the set lost focus in loud, ambient drift. tomeka reid’s long running quartet with guitarist mary halvorson, drummer tomas fujiwara and bassist jason roebke delivered a knockout set fueled by feverish interplay and a deep seated rapport that allowed the musicians to truly lift the notes off the score into a deeply intuitive statement of collective might. db editor’s note: an earlier version of this feature was illustrated by a photo that was not mats gustafsson. downbeat regrets the error. mcneil’s virtuosity as a player was unimpeachable and his imagination as an improviser was vast. john mcneil, a trumpeter, composer and educator who built an accomplished and progressive career in jazz despite a genetic disorder that continuously challenged his abilities, died sept. 27. he was 76. his death was confirmed by sunnyside records, in a post on x. self taught, with finishing schools that included the horace silver quintet and the thad jones mel lewis big band, mcneil cultivated a distinctive, original sound: even, soft voiced and built on short notes and subtly complex harmonies. his virtuosity as a player was unimpeachable and his imagination as an improviser was vast, with the trumpeter as comfortable and facile in the standard repertoire as on his own compositions. he was also a formidable educator, teaching for decades at the new england conservatory in boston. his students included trumpeter dave douglas, pianist randy ingram and saxophonist bill mchenry, the latter with whom he co led a quartet in the late 2000s. he also wrote or co wrote several books, the most prominent being the art of jazz trumpet and flexus: trumpet calisthenics for the modern improvisor (with laurie frink). despite his fearsome body of work, however, mcneil was largely an insider’s musician, acclaimed by critics and adored by fellow musicians but little known to the larger jazz audience. this was largely an effect of charcot marie tooth disease: a genetic disorder of the nervous system. mcneil had a rare variation that attacked the muscles of his face, making it difficult and at times impossible to play the trumpet. he sat out much of the 1980s and ’90s from the scene, woodshedding and teaching instead; in addition, his early records   on the danish label steeplechase   flickered in and out of availability. however, mcneil made a comeback in 1997; he made another in 2013, when surgery helped him recover from years of degenerating physical technique. in recent years, however, he had once again stepped away from performance. john patrick mcneil was born march 23, 1948, in yreka, california. as a toddler, he exhibited problems with his legs, then later a twisted spine. the result was a childhood full of various leg and back braces that subjected him to bullying and humiliation until he had surgery at 16. he was assumed to have muscular dystrophy (which had afflicted his uncle); it wasn’t until a visit to the mayo clinic as a teenager that mcneil was properly diagnosed. around the age of 10, though, mcneil saw louis armstrong performing on television, which inspired him to learn to play trumpet. with little musical education infrastructure in the small town of yreka, he taught himself to play despite warnings from doctors that physical exercise would only hurt him. he then arrived in new york in 1974, where he passed an audition for horace silver’s quintet. he also worked with the jones lewis big band before he began working as a leader in his own right; he made his first recording, embarkation, in 1978. fifteen more albums followed over the next 40 years, including three with hush point, a quartet he led in the 2010s featuring saxophonist jeremy udden, bassist aryeh kobrinsky and drummer anthony pinciotti. mcneil is survived by trombonist lolly bienenfeld, his partner of more than 40 years. db benny golson soaks in the music during a late career performance at chicago’s jazz showcase. benny golson, one of the greatest composers and saxophonists of the bebop era, passed away saturday, sept. 21, at his home in manhattan. he was 95. golson composed some of the most indelible songs in the jazz canon   from “i remember clifford,” written in 1956 as a tribute to his friend, trumpeter clifford brown, who died in a car crash; to “killer joe,” “stablemates,” “along came betty,” “are you real” and numerous other masterfully crafted pieces long considered to be standard fare and essential listening in the jazz world. on stage, golson played with a tone, tenor and intelligence that thrilled audiences throughout his eight decade career. after graduating from howard university, he emerged on the new york scene during the post charlie parker bebop era, performing with the likes of lionel hampton and dizzy gillespie. a stint with tadd dameron heavily influenced him to compose. in less than a year with art blakey and the jazz messengers, he began to write intensely, with three of his future jazz standards   “are you real,” “along came betty” and “blues march”   appearing on blakey’s 1958 blue note album moanin’. he then came to another level of prominence co leading the jazztet with trumpeter art farmer, which recorded and performed from 1959 to 1962, then regrouped for reunions in the 1980s and 1990s prior to farmer’s death in 1999. “i’ve been fortunate,” golson told writer john mcdonough in a 2009 cover feature for downbeat. “i had such a desire to get into this music, not to become famous, not even to make money, but to have my things played and please the people who would hear it. and it’s happened in great abundance, more than i had anticipated. it’s been good to me.” good to golson meant one of the longest running and decorated careers in jazz. he was named an nea jazz master in 1996. he was voted into the downbeat hall of fame in 2018. he also received a guggenheim fellowship in 2004 and honorary doctorate degrees from berklee college of music and butler university, which named their jazz festival after him. for all of his success, golson was best known to the general public for being the central figure, and making a cameo appearance, in the 2004 movie the terminal starring tom hanks. the film centered on one of the most iconic photos in jazz, “a great day in harlem,” taken in 1958 and portraying a historic gathering of esteemed mid century american jazz artists, including golson. at the time of the movie’s release, there were seven musicians in the photo who were still alive. with golson’s passing, only saxophonist sonny rollins remains. in that 2009 downbeat interview, golson looked at the photo and reflected, “i had just come to town, one of the young lions of 1956. [jazz writer] nat hentoff called me for that picture. i don’t know how he had heard of me. i was playing with dizzy when that was taken, so i knew diz. also art farmer, horace silver, johnny griffin and emmett berry. but i had never met any of the others. look at that. coleman hawkins, lester young, gene krupa, charlie mingus, basie. i had to keep myself from asking for autographs. we didn’t do that in those days. i was a nobody and just glad to be there.” jason franklin, the saxophonist’s longtime manager and agent, said golson passed away after a short illness. franklin has been working on a documentary about golson’s life called benny golson: going beyond the horizon, which is currently in post production. franklin said golson got to see, and enjoyed, a rough cut of the film before his passing. “over the last few months, uncle benny was fairly ill,” franklin said. “a few weeks ago, i gave him a call. his voice was strong and he was in good spirits. i said to him, ‘do you have a little time to look at something?’ and he replied, ‘i have nothing but time.’ we laughed and i replied, ‘right on! i’m going to send you something.’ i sent him a link to the documentary. i informed him that it was 99% finished, and it had to go in for color and sound correction. he understood. a few days later he called and said, ‘jason, i didn’t know you were sending me the whole movie. i thought you were sending me a scene. i can’t believe it. this is the whole two hour movie.’ i nervously asked, ‘what did you think?’ he eagerly replied. ‘i loved it! i absolutely loved it. this is the story of my life. i can’t believe it. you got everything in there. i didn’t think you could do it, but you got everything in there. wow! this is the story of my life!’ his excitement and joy brought a tear to my eye. who am i kidding? it brought several tears to my eyes. i promised him that i would do right by him, and thank god i did.” golson spoke and wrote as eloquently as he played. he penned several articles for downbeat, which were full of thoughtfulness and grace. his use of vocabulary in even basic email could send “even the most literate reader to a dictionary,” according to mcdonough. that thoughtfulness is what made his compositions so lasting and well loved. “what gives a composition validity is the knowledge of the person writing it, the experience he can draw on,” golson said. “but when you get to the meat of it, it’s in the intervals, what follows what. that’s what a melody is. when i write my songs, i’m conscious of intervals. art farmer was conscious of intervals. that’s why he played so beautifully. you get the right intervals in place and you’ve got something that will live past your time   duke, coltrane, bill evans, claude thornhill.” db the bad plus, plus joshua redman, one of many creative pairings nonesuch has developed. can an online experience mimic the record store hunt? can streaming new singles transmit the feeling of stalking down aisles, through rows of familiar names and half familiar images; of drawing from shelves a thin sleeve, shrink wrapped and weighted, with the hope of discovery? in the years since independent record stores and sprawling retail outlets began closing their doors permanently, avid listeners and collectors of the eclectic have established new rituals. through the midnight album drop and the grocery run playlist, they create their own communion with the music. reddit threads reveal how many fans won’t listen to single releases until they have streaming access to the entire album, from start to finish. but many still miss the freedom to explore, shielded from algorithmic matches and automated riyls. they miss those moments of strange solitude among clusters of people in search of something both physical and intangible. “everything we make, without exception, we put out a physical version of,” says nonesuch records president david bither. “whether that’s vinyl in some cases or cds in 100% of cases, that physical component is very important to us because it’s the canvas on which the artists paint.” now celebrating its 60th year, nonesuch records, which began as “a budget classical music label,” has remained   much like those beloved indie record stores   steadfast in its commitment to the community that drives its purpose and sustains its success: the artists, listeners, writers, designers and conceptualists who value   who thrive on   originality and ambition. “it’s not a particular genre or style of music, but i think there was the intent, throughout the whole 60 years, to do something original that we weren’t hearing anywhere else,” says bither, who began consulting at nonesuch in the mid 1980s while at elektra, its then umbrella label under warner communications. “we’ve never made decisions simply because we felt something would be successful. that’s clearly one [reason for] everything we do, but it’s not the only reason. it is about hearing something fresh and original that we feel we haven’t heard anyone else try.” among the artists and creative thinkers involved in what nonesuch calls its “broad mission” through the years, the label advanced through the vision of “essentially three people,” says bither. across six decades, he, bob hurwitz and the late tracey sterne signed or closely partnered with a roster of individualists that includes cesária évora, george crumb, laurie anderson, john adams, steve reich, buena vista social club, kronos quartet, john zorn, rhiannon giddens, the black keys, brad mehldau, caetano veloso, wilco and cécile mclorin salvant. these and countless other artists have become part of the community that, according to bither, “draws artists and listeners [to nonesuch] more than anything else. sometimes it starts early, sometimes it’s a little later. cécile was a recognized, multi grammy winning figure when she moved to nonesuch. but i think [she], too, saw the community here and it spoke to her bigger ambitions as an artist.” in december 2023 another such artist, ambrose akinmusire, issued owl song, the first of three records he’s partnered with nonesuch to release following his prolific tenure with blue note records. the trio album unites new orleans drummer herlin riley and guitarist bill frisell, a former nonesuch artist who released with the label for more than two decades. and in the spirit of that broad mission, akinmusire seized the opportunity to revitalize his creative impulses and stretch his sound. “i’m thinking a lot about how we’re living in a day and age where a lot of energy is going into erasing boundaries and erasing these walls,” says the trumpet player and composer. “you see it in gender equality, you see it in genre, you see it in all these things. even in a physical space   [for owl song] i thought about removing the bass [as] the wall between piano and drums.” roughly a year and a half before the pandemic, akinmusire began talks with nonesuch with a desire to “have the freedom to do whatever i wanted to do, without associations.” affirming his gratitude and appreciation for blue note, and acknowledging its earnest efforts to “stretch and push and deal with things,” he found himself drawn to the nonesuch community of expansive styles, voices and perspectives. “i honestly have never felt comfortable only being [considered a jazz artist]” he says. “i’ve had classical commissions that i’ve wanted to release, and i didn’t feel comfortable doing that on blue note. i just wanted to have the freedom, going forward, to do what i wanted to do.” according to akinmusire, the encouragement, from a label, to abandon traditional classifications of genre transforms his approach to composing. “it changes my process completely,” he says. “even if i do choose to do things that easily fit under the umbrella of jazz, i think the music feels a little bit different if it feels like it can grow into other spaces.” to celebrate 60 years of ambition, originality and an unwavering commitment to artistic expression, nonesuch presents new listeners and longtime fans with a suite of programming and official merch, including a playlist of more than 750 tracks; an exhibition and portfolio set featuring 25 years of artist portraits by photographer michael wilson; and classic vinyl reissues, plus a partnership with vinyl me, please to release its paragon series comprising reissues from anderson and kronos quartet, the black keys, philip glass, morton subotnick, allen toussaint and akiko yano. while no label in the digital age can replicate the treasure hunt anticipation of an hour spent wandering through aisles of lps, nonesuch provides listeners a similar feeling of community and discovery. its commemorative youtube series nonesuch selects features artists like anderson, mehldau and guitarist mary halvorson stopping by the new york office to browse its physical archive and share recommendations. through her three minute video, pulling vinyls and cds from drawers and shelves, halvorson renews her sense of discovery, and repeats a refrain familiar to every ritualistic listener: “this is one of my favorite records.” db wim wabbes, outgoing european jazz network president, makes a point during an opening day session of the enj conference in ghent, belgium. each year programmers and representatives of most of europe’s most prestigious and important jazz festivals, clubs and concert series come together to strengthen continental connections, allowing members of the european jazz network to meet face to face. the organization was founded back in 1987 and has grown steadily in subsequent decades, now boasting 202 members from 37 different countries. the 10th and most recent gathering took place sept. 12 15 in ghent, belgium, where outgoing ejn president wim wabbes welcomed international guests to the picturesque city. not only was wabbes relinquishing his ejn post, but he has also just retired from his position as artistic director of the gorgeous handelsbeurs concert hall, a post he held for nearly 12 years, designing a stylistically kaleidoscopic program built around various strains of jazz, but also including rock and world music. the venue, which passed the programming reins to jaïr tchong, hosted a number of concerts showcasing belgian artists. the opening day of the conference was a closed session for members to discuss business affairs, including the introduction of the polish curator karolina juzwa   the founder of the international jazz platform in lodz   but on friday and saturday, sept. 13 and 14, daytime activities occurred at the stunning music centre de bijloke, a former 13th century hospital converted in a live music center. while the main concert hall has been updated with state of the art acoustic treatments and a modern sound system, its original roof remains intact, an architectural marvel that required an entire forest in the ardennes to be felled for its planks and arches. the theme of this year’s conference was “tomorrow comes today,” placing an unabashed focus on youth   exploring ways to attract young listeners, to address its changing concerns regarding the environment, gender and racial balance, and an unstable political period. while wabbes and ha concerts served as this year’s host, they partnered with vi.be, a support organization serving the music industry in brussels and flanders, and jazzlab, the largest organizer of jazz performances in flanders. together they sought to present a vibrant array of speakers to tackle youth oriented issues, pointedly enlisting young people as panelists. while the undertaking was admirable, many of the discussions failed to provide many answers, too often sticking to superficial bromides and platitudes rather than facing difficult conversations. in a bold move, the keynote speech was given by a 25 year old belgian slam poet champion and songwriter of rwandan descent, lisette ma neza. she’s currently the first ever city poet of brussels, and rather that giving a traditional address she presented as a shape shifting performance titled letters from a young poetess, accompanied by piano improvisations played by neil akenzua. ma neza proved herself to be a superb singer, whether delivering lines steeped in western soul or african roots, and while there were pearls of wisdom in her oratory, bringing a poetic sensibility to an immigrant perspective with lines like, “the genocide still lives inside of us. i’ve learned it from within, that tomorrow is today. i’ve seen it in my brother’s eyes, that the past is present,” and “may we create hope from all this concern,” her optimistic yet measured message was light on details or solutions. in fact, most of the panels and discussions i attended consistently elided conflict or real exploration, too often settling on cliched expressions of unity or vague talking points. english writer and broadcaster anna umbima did her best to draw out the participants of the plenary panel debate on saturday morning, but the discussion rarely felt substantive. oddly, only one of the three panelists   the poland based pianist, improviser and artist kateryna ziabliuk   had any connection to jazz. fatih de vos is a rapper and social worker of turkish descent, and frederike berendsen is danish singer who initiated the dutch branch of the climate advocacy organization music declares emergency. while ziabliuk confronted the conservatism that too often impacts jazz programmers who steer clear of controversial issues   and shockingly, the israeli palestinian conflict was scarcely mentioned all weekend   the discourse was otherwise superficial, often loaded with cliches. berendsen declared that jazz was always a music of protest, an assertion she backed up citing how hard drummers played during a year she spent living in new york city. i attended one of five concurrent discussion groups presented on friday called “curating for all,” which focused on how to reach broader audiences in terms of age, ethnicity and gender. while there were some interesting proposals, the sheer number of attendees and limited time tended to water down the interchange. late on saturday, after the official program concluded, xavier lemettre, artistic director of the french festival banlieues bleues, called an ad hoc discussion to consider the potential ramifications of the increasing rightward shift in european politics, a transition that threatens arts funding in the future. it was the only period during the weekend where i experienced serious passion and debate. sadly, i also heard little discussion of the actual music all of the attendees devote their livelihoods to, focusing on the administration and presentation of jazz releated work rather than the music itself. still, there were many showcase performances by belgian artists during the weekend, including an impressive set by a quartet led by bassist yannick peeters with guitarist frederik leroux, reedist frans van isacker and drummer samuel ber, where artfully measured post bop unspooled with exquisite patience and thoughtfulness. van asacker spiked his lyric improvisations with an acidic tonal bite, leroux provided harmonically varied harmony, ber pushed the music forward with a light hand and the leader framed the others with her warm, woody tone and assertive propulsion. pleasing sets were also played the chamber sextet aki and the charged minimalism of donder, but too much of the music felt hushed and tight lipped, leaving this listener hungry for some fits of energy and tension. still, despite the lack of substantial debate during the weekend, there was no missing the energy and enthusiasm the gathering transmitted for the task of preserving and extending a wide array of jazz related music. here’s hoping future solutions emerge for pressing issues on display, but the community surrounding the music keeps growing, and that’s an undeniably positive sign. db “when i heard jackie mclean, it was like the perfect mixture of bebop or hard bop, but also some edge,” says monford. it’s tough to rank jazz’s most important cities, but the top centers of activity have to include chicago, detroit, los angeles, new orleans and new york. detroit in particular has produced such a stunning array of top level jazz players that there’s an entire book devoted to the subject. saxophonist mike monford grew up a hip hop kid in the motor city, picking up the horn as a teenager. he always had wide ranging tastes. “i found myself loving bebop and swing and all of that,” he said, “but i [also] loved what they called at that time avant garde or free jazz or the new thing.” then he discovered one musician who seemed to be at the center of all these sounds. “when i heard jackie mclean, it was like the perfect mixture of bebop or hard bop, but also some edge … and when i found out that i could study with him, i zeroed in on it.” monford worked with local heroes like trumpeter marcus belgrave, reeds player and tribe records co founder wendell harrison, keyboardist and strata records leader kenny cox, drummer roy brooks and others, and eventually traveled to connecticut to study with mclean at the hartt school of music. from there, he was off to new york, where he spent two decades working with bassist/composer bill lee, pianist marc cary and many others. eventually, though, he returned home. “i moved back to detroit … during the emergency city manager period, when the city was bankrupt,” monford says. “there were no streetlights, there was no ambulance … no school system. so just a lot of turmoil, and people were just kind of beat up and battle weary.” to counter that, he began to seek out musicians who were interested in rebuilding and revitalizing the city through art. he created a multigenerational ensemble called detroit effervescence to make music that combined jazz, hip hop and soul. monford doesn’t like to describe his music with genre tags like “spiritual jazz” or “avant garde”; instead, he calls it afrofuturism, which puts it into a continuum that includes the sun ra arkestra, parliament/funkadelic, burnt sugar, the art ensemble of chicago, miles davis’ electric bands and more. “so it’s like the best of the past,” he said. “and then we’re pushing forward with the future.” the group played around detroit, building a strong local following, but also traveled to washington, d.c., and even to europe. meanwhile, monford was touring with the french vocal duo les nubians and teaching at chandler park academy; sometimes, the school’s concert band would open detroit effervescence gigs. after several years of performances, he put together a version of the group for a residency at cliff bell’s, a legendary detroit venue that first opened its doors in 1935. monford’s new album the cloth i’m cut from features five extended live tracks performed by an ensemble that includes trumpet player allen dennard, tenor saxophonist calvin taylor, keyboardists pamela wise and william hill, violinists bebe sewell and xavier gillium, bassist jaribu shahid, drummer tariq gardner, percussionist kevin jones and mc napi devi. some players are in their 60s, while others are students of monford’s. the album includes two original compositions, “jah jah” and “piercing eyes,” and versions of lee morgan’s “exotique,” abbey lincoln’s “throw it away” and mclean’s “jack’s tune,” rendered here as one word: “jackstune.” the morgan tune is a nod to his parents, both of whom were philadelphia natives. the lincoln piece holds great meaning for monford; one of his daughters is named for her. and the mclean piece connects to his time as a student, but on the album, monford uses it as a generational bridge much the way the older man bridged bebop and the avant garde and continued to progress throughout his career. napi devi delivers a heartfelt hip hop verse in the middle of the piece. “i wanted to pay homage to jackie’s innovations and take his tune somewhere else [into] the 2000s. so that’s how that layer of cloth got on the album.” the cloth i’m cut from comes wrapped in a beautiful cover painting by chicago based artist tracy crump, featuring monford in profile, holding his horn and surrounded by abstract, floating lines and spheres. the record took several years to produce, partly because the pandemic shut down studios and nightclubs and partly because life got in the way. monford is a husband and father, after all, with both professional and familial responsibilities. eventually, though, it all came together with money saved from gigs and some donations from the community, and the residency at cliff bell’s, which allowed him to capture the music without paying for studio time. “when the industry changed and almost went completely independent,” monford says, “artists had to become booking agents, managers, a&r, everything that a record company would have. so it takes longer, unless you have the capital already. that’s the reality. so if i could tell any independent artist [anything] … definitely be patient and don’t give up. when a project isn’t going anywhere for a year or two, that’s when you can let it go and you’ll lose it. you just want to dig in. you put it on hold for however long you have to, and then you get back to it.” as a bandleader, a teacher, a parent and a community activist, monford is in the uplift business. detroit has decades of jazz history to its credit, but it’s people like monford, who recognize that leadership and encouragement are just as important as musical talent, who ensure that it will continue to move forward, innovate and grow. db “what happens when we put special people with other special people?” asks immanuel wilkins, who seeks to cross pollinate the arts. after bursting onto the scene with his acclaimed 2020 debut, omega, immanuel wilkins announced his arrival as a talent deserving wider recognition. hitting the downbeat critics poll trifecta last year with wins in the alto saxophonist of the year, rising star group of the year and rising star composer of the year categories in the wake of his 2022 outing, the 7th hand, only upped the ante on wilkins’ prospects. now with wins in the jazz group and alto saxophone categories in this year’s critics poll, wilkins has firmly established himself as a prominent figure in jazz. in this recent interview with downbeat, wilkins chatted about his upcoming, and provocative, blue note release, blues blood, which examines the story of the harlem six: a group of teenagers falsely accused of murder in 1965 and brutally beaten by prison guards in order to elicit confessions. relying on actual testimony during the trial from 19 year old daryl hamm, one of the accused, blues blood is also wilkins’ first vocal project. the release features guest appearances by cécile mclorin salvant, singer songwriter lyricist alyssa mcdoom (aka june mcdoom), singers yaw agyeman and ganavya doraiswamy and guitarist marvin sewell, all of whom augment wilkins’ working quartet with pianist micah thomas, bassist rick rosato and drummer kweku sumbry. bill milkowski: “blues blood” is probably the one track on the new album that could have fit on either omega or the 7th hand. the rest of the tunes on blues blood have that quality of finding a more peaceful, meditative space through ostinatos and vamps, but this tune is just killing right out of the gate. immanuel wilkins: that was the roundup tune. that one was the chance for all of us to get some playing in with the quartet and also feature the singers and marvin in a way that felt like vignettes. it’s also meant to be played at the end, just because of the fact that it’s all inclusive. there are moments for genavya, moments for yaw, moments for alyssa, moments for marvin, micah and me. so it just it feels like a collection of small vignettes. and, yeah, it’s probably the most intense tune of the album. it’s also the only track that doesn’t have lyrics on it. on that tune i was thinking about genavya and yaw as improvisers, really as other instruments. it was just a way to feature everybody in a way that still felt organic and natural, but also we were able to really stretch out and play. milkowski: the presence of singer ganavya also lends a kind of world music appeal to this project. wilkins: for sure, ganavya is amazing. she sings in tamil, which is a south indian language. and i thought that ganavya and yaw, the male singer, and our drummer kweku, who also plays djembe in the west african farina kan percussion ensemble, all bring the factor of improvising using a past tradition. kweku and yao come from the ghanaian tradition and ganavya comes from the south indian tradition. and so, when tasked with the idea of improvising within a vamp or a certain world, they are calling upon past traditions that date back thousands of years. so on the piece “motion” from blues blood, i was just thinking about how the body kind of holds that memory in their improvisations. milkowski: i enjoyed those four brief interludes on blues blood, especially the west african drums on “air” and the backwards spoken word stuff on “assembly.” wilkins: kweku recorded “air” in ghana with a lot of west african talking drum players at a ceremony. and he got permission from them to use it for this record. and then “assembly” … there was a lot of post production on that. meshell ndegeocello [the album’s producer] was pretty instrumental in encouraging me to experiment with stuff that i would normally just do in my house on my computer and the world would never hear. i often play with soundscapes at home and do little 30 second to minute long interludes … just little things that require a lot of post production. and so she was like, “yeah, just make a bunch of those.” and then eventually she said, “ok, you have enough. now pick which ones you love.” and so, it was a way for me to manipulate the already existing material into a new space, and just find new ways of moving some of the themes around. so i was really playing like a puzzle there and seeing if i can juxtapose different things against other things. milkowski: the collage of voices on “your memory” triggers memories of steve reich’s groundbreaking electronic music piece, “come over,” which loops a brief fragment of testimony from daniel hamm and then treats it electronically with phasing, echo and other devices. wilkins: i was definitely drawing on that. also, i feel like when you collage all of those voices together, it actually does feel like memory. it feels like how your mind kind of drifts from one thing to the next. the way that i found out about the whole harlem six incident was via two people: glenn ligon, who is a visual artist, and steve reich. glenn has a visual art piece called “blues blood bruise,” which consists of just three words put next to each other. and it was based off of the reich recording. in working with an archivist on this record, i tried to look into the archives of daniel hamm to see if we could find a full recording of his testimony, but i wasn’t able to find any conclusive info. there’s no real reference for the full audio recording of daniel hamm talking. the only thing that exists is that brief fragment that steve reich used for “come over.” milkowski: meanwhile, you’ve already built an impressive body of very thoughtful, very substantial work at the age of 26 with these three blue note albums. wilkins: thank you. but for me, i want to look back on my life when i’m 80 years old and know that i knew other people who were making things at the time that i was making things, whether that’s artists or cooks or fashion designers or filmmakers. i want to look back and say i knew the other people who were being just as creative as me and my colleagues were in other avenues. i think of ornette’s obsession with jackson pollock and miles davis knowing pablo picasso and even bird visiting stravinsky at his home. it’s important that writers know musicians and musicians know artists and artists know filmmakers and filmmakers know chefs; that we really cross pollinate. there’s a lot of power in the collective. a part of me is always thinking, “what would happen if we got a lot of cooks in the kitchen?” so to speak. what would happen if i get one of my favorite photographers, one of my favorite filmmakers and one of my favorite fashion designers in the room together? what do we talk about? what happens when i get my favorite vocalist and my favorite chef and my band together to make something together. you know, what happens when we put special people with other special people. milkowski: there you go, thinking on that big canvas again. you know where that’s going to lead you? to the metropolitan opera. ask terence blanchard. wilkins: well, yeah, you’re right. and it’s funny because i have been obsessed lately with gesamtkunstwerk, wagner’s term for works that cover the whole thing. [wagner’s ring cycle is considered the epitome of gesamtkunstwerk, combining musical, visual and dramatic art into an all embracing theatrical work]. i like that idea where the costume design is great, the art direction is great, the choreography is great, the singers are amazing. firing on all cylinders like that is something that i think is important. db the third artistic director in the festival’s history, darin atwater comes to monterey with a distinctively different background than his predecessors. the 67th edition of the monterey jazz festival, which runs sept. 27 29 at the monterey fairgrounds, features just what its loyal fans have come to expect: a star studded mix of headliners, commissioned work, challenging new acts, youth programs and a funky saturday afternoon party. no less than stanley clarke, brandee younger, jason moran, somi, robert glasper, mavis staples, josh redman, samara joy, chief adjuah, the sfjazz collective, hiromi, keyon harrold, miguel zenon and robert glasper are on the bill. but longtime patrons will notice hints of some new directions. they come courtesy of monterey’s new artistic director, darin atwater, who took the helm last fall after the retirement of tim jackson. only the third artistic director in the festival’s history (san francisco dj jimmy lyons came first), atwater, 53, comes to monterey with a distinctively different background than his predecessors. he is the first from the east coast and also the first african american. a pianist, composer and educator with a classical and gospel background, as well as a deep knowledge of jazz, he is the founding artistic director of the baltimore based soulful symphony, which performs american music with an emphasis on african american experience. atwater has served as composer in residence for the baltimore symphony, and his composition “day of affirmation” was commissioned and performed by the jazz lincoln center orchestra. he also teaches american roots music at the peabody institute of the johns hopkins university. “he’s a renaissance kind of guy,” says lenora helm, dean of professional education at berklee college of music, who has often collaborated with atwater. “he has his heart and mind and work in circles that overlap, as a musician, as an academic leader and as a cultural arts programmer.” atwater says he has no intention of dramatically changing monterey. he especially admires its tradition of commissioning new work and the commitment to jazz “baked into its constitution.” “most jazz festivals are no longer jazz festivals,” he notes. but just as jackson brought his particular outlook to the festival, atwater clearly intends to add his own touch to monterey. for starters, this year’s schedule reflects his love of the human voice. nearly two dozen singers and vocal ensembles share the bill, from samara joy and mavis staples to lila downs and gabriella cavassa. “i come out of the gospel choral tradition,” he explains. “the voice is a sonic canvas. the american songbook is a vehicle for storytelling. i want to embrace those traditions.” atwater has also significantly expanded the festival’s gospel component. the monterey peninsula gospel community choir joins texas southern university gospel choir, which appeared last year, on the sunday morning program on at the newly named tim jackson garden stage. there is now a gospel program at the arena sunday, as well, featuring the inspirational donald lawrence and company. atwater is a macher in the gospel world. when monterey jazz festival executive director colleen bailey attended a celebration with him earlier this year at houston’s wesley ame church, she was stunned by the reception he received. “i walked in with darin and it was like, ‘darin atwater’s here!’” bailey says. “all these famous gospel singers were there, and he got called out along with them. when we were in baltimore, he was given a key to the city. he is a very well known figure in the music industry, in other places. i think this is his west coast opportunity.” it’s also an opportunity for atwater to show off east coast acts californians might not have seen before. one is baltimore tenor saxophonist tim green, who has performed with christian mcbride; another is a d.c. area favorite, vocalist sara jones. charlotte, north carolina based pianist sean mason is also a first timer at monterey this year, as is the soulful pennsylvania singer avery sunshine. if you notice a healthy mix of genders in atwater’s program, it’s no accident. “this was really, really intentional,” he says. “we have to scrub ourselves of any blind spot biases.” in addition to his commitment to equity, atwater also appears ready to take on the monterey audience’s notorious resistance to change, particularly jazz adjacent forms such as hip hop. in 2014, the crowd exited en masse when the roots came on at the jimmy lyons stage, the festival’s main, 5,000 seat arena. undeterred, atwater has invited baltimore born hip hop artist mumu fresh (maimouna youssef) to the big stage saturday and the infectious new orleans hip hop group the soul rebels to the west end stage. the west end stage is also where curious listeners can soak up the sounds of marquis hill, harriet tubman, tarbaby, joel ross and jason moran’s band wagon. “we want to inject the festival with as much new life as possible, build a bridge to the next generation,” atwater affirms. there is one ingredient that old timers might notice is missing from this year’s program: monterey’s customarily fulsome nod to bay area musicians. though san francisco’s christian pepin & orquesta bembé is featured at the pacific jazz café, a venue where atwater hopes to reassert jazz’s oft forgotten ties to dance, the festival is short on local names. “that’s just my learning curve,” atwater admits. “that will shift. i’ve been doing a lot of homework. that’s my job.” in fact, his job is even bigger than that. in addition to booking the festival, atwater will teach master classes in the festival’s ongoing collaboration with historic black colleges and universities   to date, texas southern university (sending its gospel choir) and north carolina central university (offering its jazz ensemble). eventually, bailey says, atwater will also participate in monterey jazz festival on tour, which offers a revue to major cities around the country. “it’s a juggernaut,” says atwater, who also will retain his position as artistic director of soulful symphony and continue to compose, if he can find time. “but i’m so honored to have the opportunity to take the baton.” db ​harpist brandee younger is among the performers on the program for this year’s hyde park jazz fest in chicago. the 18th annual hyde park jazz festival will be held on 13 unique stages across chicago’s hyde park, kenwood and washington park neighborhoods on sept. 28 29. the festival lineup features more than 36 free performances and includes visiting national artists alongside some of chicago’s brightest lights. venues include the smart museum, international house, rockefeller chapel, reva and david logan center for the arts, hyde park bank, hyde park union church, the dusable black history museum and education center, augustana church, institute for the study of ancient cultures, hyde park art center and the midway plaisance. drummer and composer nate smith, who fuses his original compositions with an eclectic mix of music, will join this year’s lineup for a solo performance. harpist brandee younger and pianist and macarthur fellow courtney bryan will present a special collaboration. drummer willie jones iii’s quintet featuring jeremy pelt will present “our man higgins” in tribute to the prolific drummer billy higgins. flutist/saxophonist anna webber and clarinetist ben goldberg will travel to chicago to join geof bradfield’s (reeds/mbira) new project colossal abundance. anna webber will also perform a duo set with pianist matt mitchell. guitarist jeff parker and drummer jeremy clemmons will join chicago pianist justin dillard for a new trio, the wherewithal. the boston based makanda project will collaborate with chicago vocalist dee alexander. pianist craig taborn brings his trio with cellist tomeka reid and drummer ches smith. and guitarist bobby broom will present his trio with visiting drummer kobie watkins, a long time colleague. the annual rockefeller chapel performance to close saturday night’s activities will feature a solo performance by trumpeter ambrose akinmusire. the hyde park jazz festival will celebrate the 100th anniversary of african american writer and civil rights activist james baldwin’s birthday (born aug. 2, 1924) with a performance in collaboration with the hyde park art center and chicago poet laureate avery r. young and de deacon board ensemble. the performance will be set amid artist robert earl paige’s exhibition “the united colors of robert earl paige.” the festival has also added a video project, “rob mazurak exploding star orchestra, live at the adler planetarium,” which documents a singular performance that featured original images by mazurek projected onto the planetarium’s domed ceiling during hypnotic interpretations of music from the most recent exploding star orchestra album, lightning dreamers (international anthem). the hyde park jazz festival is free to the public, but attendees are asked to consider a $10 per person donation. for additional information, click here. db the angel city jazz festival encourages metamorphosis of the genre. this year’s event will host 23 concerts. now in its 17th year, the angel city jazz festival will take place oct. 11 27 at various los angeles venues including redcat (roy and edna disney/calarts theater), 2220 arts & archives, lacma (los angeles county museum of art), the barnsdall gallery theatre, art share l.a. and the world stage. this year’s event will host 23 concerts featuring performances by the otmaro ruiz quartet, kris davis trio, steve lehman & garden of klōns, elsa nilsson, sasha berliner, mauricio morales, jeff denson & romain pilon trio, yafeu tyhimba, joy guidry, deron johnson, mark dresser, thollem mcdonas, patrick shiroishi, brandon seabrook, iseul kim, jenny scheinman, the fes orchestra, zony mash and wayne horvitz’s electric circus. while some jazz festivals focus through a traditional lens, angel city encourages and embraces metamorphosis of the genre. although the city provided a foundation for historic innovators like ornette coleman, eric dolphy and charles lloyd, los angeles never consistently hosted a festival dedicated to post traditional improvisation until artistic curator rocco somazzi founded the angel city jazz festival in 2008. “angel city has gone to great lengths to establish los angeles as a jazz destination through 17 years of affordable and accessible live concerts throughout the city featuring artists such as bill frisell, archie shepp, bennie maupin, roscoe mitchell, wadada leo smith, vijay iyer, ravi coltrane, nels cline, tigran hamasyan, rudresh mahanthappa and many others,” somazzi said. the festival kicks off friday, oct. 11, at lacma with a performance by venezuelan pianist otmaro ruiz’s quartet performing a set of original compositions. opening weekend continues saturday, oct. 12, with pianist kris davis, who performs with her new trio. the program’s double bill also includes the world premiere of steve lehman’s garden of klōns project featuring pianist cory smythe and drummer jonathan pinson. the weekend concludes on sunday, oct. 13, featuring swedish flutist elsa nilsson and vibraphonist sasha berliner. nilsson will be performing pulses, a spoken word/jazz piece inspired by an maya angelou poem. the festival’s second leg opens thursday, oct. 17, with l.a. based bassist mauricio morales. he’ll celebrate the release of his forthcoming album, seven days, featuring an all star band that includes guitarist horace bray and pianist luca mendoza. bay area bassist jeff denson’s trio featuring french guitarist romain pilon and drummer clarence penn will also appear. on friday, oct. 18, bassist/composer yafey tyhimba will premier a new piece commissioned by the los angeles jazz society. an additional set from keyboardist diego gaeta will also take place. on saturday, oct. 19, new york city based bassoonist joy guidry performs material from her most recent album, amen. miles davis alumnus deron johnson opens the evening in celebration of free to dance, his new recording consisting of all original material. sunday, oct. 20, concludes the second weekend of programming with a festival exclusive concert that features all solo performances. artists set to appear include bassist mark dresser, pianist thollem mcdonas, saxophonist patrick shiroishi and guitarist brandon seabrook. the concluding third week commences on thursday, oct. 24, featuring a double bill of two new york based composers: jenny scheinman’s all species parade featuring guitarist adam ratner and bassist tony scherr, and iseul kim’s liberosis, a jazz project inspired by her love of tango music. on friday, oct. 25, the belgium based big band flat earth society orchestra celebrates its 25th anniversary with an exclusive southern california performance. on saturday, oct. 26, various ensembles will engage in spontaneous musical creation during a special festival program titled angel city jazz festival and vernacular: new music performed by a unique collective that includes of some los angeles’ finest local musicians. the festival concludes on sunday, oct. 27, with an evening hosted by seattle based composer/pianist wayne horvitz performing in two different contexts. zony mash will open with a groove based quartet featuring horvitz on hammond b 3, and the program concludes with horvitz conducting a 15 piece band for his electric circus project. for the full schedule, tickets and details, click here. db “watching people like max roach or elvin jones and seeing how they utilize the whole drum kit in a very rhythmic and melodic way and how they stretched time   that was a huge inspiration to me,” hussain said in downbeat. dec 17, 2024 9:58 am tabla master ustad zakir hussain, one of india’s reigning cultural ambassadors and a revered figure worldwide… gerald and john clayton at the family home in altadena during a photo shoot for the june 2022 cover of downbeat. the house was lost during the los angeles fires. jan 21, 2025 7:54 pm roy mccurdy and his wife had just finished eating dinner and were relaxing over coffee in their altadena home, when he… queen latifah extols harlem and the apollo theater at this year’s kennedy center honors. dec 12, 2024 1:58 am cuban american jazz trumpet legend arturo sandoval and harlem’s apollo theater were among the honorees at the 2024… the old country: more from the deer head inn arrives 30 years after ecm issued the keith jarret trio live album at the deer head inn. jan 21, 2025 7:38 pm last november, keith jarrett, who has not played publicly since suffering two strokes in 2018, greenlighted ecm to drop… “with jazz i thought it must be ok to be black, for the first time,” says singer sofia jernberg. jan 2, 2025 10:50 am on musho (intakt), her recent duo album with pianist alexander hawkins, singer sofia jernberg interprets traditional… about|terms of use|privacycopyright © 2025 maher publications. all rights reserved. downbeat is an internationally registered trademark of maher publications.
performances in n.y.c. critic’s notebook in a rarity for contemporary music, the entire catalog of crumb, who died two years ago, has been recorded and released in 21 volumes. the composer george crumb (1929 2022) at his home in pennsylvania five years ago.credit... jessica kourkounis for the new york times supported by by david weininger it’s rare for a composer to quickly find a broad audience. it usually takes years, or even decades, and sometimes doesn’t happen at all. the american composer george crumb, though, who was born in 1929 and died two years ago, reached wide prominence within a decade. he found his musical voice in the early 1960s, and by 1968 had won the pulitzer prize, not to mention a bevy of grants and fellowships. perhaps most important, his premieres were seen as genuine events, such as the pandemonium that was said to have greeted “ancient voices of children,” his 1970 setting of poems by federico garcia lorca for soprano, boy soprano and chamber ensemble. what explains crumb’s near immediate assimilation to the musical mainstream? there was, first and foremost, his dizzying sonic imagination. crumb took the extended techniques that originated with henry cowell and john cage and exploded them, plying instruments for virtually any sound they would yield and creating a vast new timbral universe. his scores   created by hand and themselves works of art   are rife with exacting instructions to performers: how to thread paper between the strings of a harp, or how string players should use the thimbles on their fingers. in “ancient voices,” there is an 86 word note instructing the pianist how to use a chisel (crumb specifies the size) to create a glissando on the piano strings that last well under a minute. he insisted that his extended techniques were not mere sound effects, as some listeners believed, but essential elements of musical expression. in addition, crumb was largely untouched by the rift between serialists and tonal composers that split the music world in the 1960s and ’70s. his writing was so original, it seemed to sidestep that whole fiasco. indeed, there was something both timely and timeless about crumb’s music. his pieces had titles that evoked distant worlds and had deep, primordial resonances, but they were unmistakably of their day. in “black angels,” one of his most famous works, symmetries, numerology and religious allusions in the score were accompanied, crumb said, by “vibrations from the surrounding world, which was the world of the vietnam time.”