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Love -- is that later Thing than Death --
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 it
I cannot meet the Spring unmoved --
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, Remor
I know of people in the Grave
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 upo
The Butterfly in honored Dust
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly --
Some such Butterfly be seen
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 -
I saw no Way -- The Heavens were stitched
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
Hope is a strange invention --
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 --
She sped as Petals of a Rose
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
Lines Written in an Album, at Malta
As o'er the cold sepulchral stone Some _name_ arrests the passer-by; Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, May _mine_ attract thy pensive eye! And when by thee that name is read, Perchance i
The Butterfly's Assumption Gown
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 --
A little Snow was here and there
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 in
To Frances S. Osgood
Thou wouldst be loved?--then let thy heart From its present pathway part not; Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways, Thy grace, th
I send you a decrepit flower
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 in
A Light exists in Spring
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 w
The Road was lit with Moon and star --
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 s
How know it from a Summer's Day?
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
So gay a Flower
So gay a Flower Bereaves the Mind As if it were a Woe -- Is Beauty an Affliction -- then? Tradition ought to know --
Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell
Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell Be once disclosed to us The clamor for their loveliness Would burst the Loneliness --
Consulting summer's clock,
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
Fragment: 'Ye Gentle Visitations of Calm Thought'
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought-- Moods like the memories of happier earth, Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth, Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,-- But that the cloud
John Keats
WHO killed John Keats? "I," says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; "'T was one of my feats." Who shot the arrow? "The poet-priest Milman (So ready to kill man) "Or Southey, or Barrow."
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
"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 s
No Autumn's intercepting Chill
No Autumn's intercepting Chill Appalls this Tropic Breast -- But African Exuberance And Asiatic rest.
There is a pain -- so utter --
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