The Mob Within the Heart

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 realms contain
Its Past — enlightened to perceive
New Periods — of Pain. 

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.

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;
'T is starving makes it fat.

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
Indefinites disclosed -
I shut my eyes - and groped as well
'Twas lighter - to be Blind -

I felt a [cleavage]1 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 reach
Like balls upon a floor.

Remorse is memory awake,
Her companies astir, -
A presence of departed acts
At window and at door.

It's past set down before the soul,
And lighted with a match,
Perusal to facilitate
Of its condensed despatch.

Remorse is cureless, - the disease
Not even God can heal;
For 't is his institution, -
The complement of hell.

Much madness is divinest sense
To [a]1 discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
'Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane,
Demur, - you're straightaway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

I Cannot ope mine eyes,
            But thou art ready there to catch
            My morning-soul and sacrifice:
Then we must needs for that day make a match.

		            My God, what is a heart?
            Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
            Or starre, or rainbow, or a part
Of all these things, or all of them in one?
	
		            My God, what is a heart?
            That thou shouldst it so eye, and wooe,
            Powring upon it all thy art,
As if that thou hadst nothing els to do?

		            Indeed mans whole estate
            Amounts (and richly) to serve thee:
            He did not heav'n and earth create,
Yet studies them, not him by whom they be.

		            Teach me thy love to know;
            That this new light, which now I see,
            May both the work and workman show:
Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee.