Noon - is the Hinge of Day-.

I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; 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.

The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.

There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.

If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now

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.