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
