The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
Shy as the Wind of his Chambers
Swift as a Freshet's Tongue
So of the Flower of the Soul
Its process is unknown.
A better Coat if he possessed
Would help him to conceal,
Not subjugate, the Mutineer
Whose title is "the Soul.
A little bread -- a crust -- a crumb --
A little trust -- a demijohn --
Can keep the soul alive --
Not portly, mind!
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.
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.
Garrisoned no Soul can be
In the Front of Trouble --
Love is one, not aggregate --
Nor is Dying double --
The Subterranean Freight
The Cellars of the Soul --
Thank God the loudest Place he made
Is license to be still.
Motioned itself to drill
Loaded and Levelled
And let His Flesh
Centuries from His soul.
Steady -- my soul: What issues
Upon thine arrow hang!
The Soul should always stand ajar.
Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid --
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God.
Angel's breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee --
Imps in eager Caucus
Raffle for my Soul!
Slay -- and my Soul shall rise
Chanting to Paradise --
Still thine.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
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.
What Door -- What Hour -- Run -- run -- My Soul!
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
Enclosed 'twas not of Rail
A Consciousness its Acre, and
It held a Human Soul.
What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot The opening of a Door.
Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be --
Attended by a single Hound
Its own identity.
Garland for Queens, may be --
Laurels -- for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Could live -- did live --
Could die -- did die --
Could smile upon the whole
Through faith in one he met not,
To introduce his soul.
At leisure is the Soul
That gets a Staggering Blow --
The Width of Life -- before it spreads
Without a thing to do --
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories