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It sounded as if the streets were running, And then the streets stood still.
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Not 'Revelation'-'tis that waits/ But our unfurnished eyes.
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The hearts that never lean must fall.
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The spreading wide my narrow Hands / To gather Paradise-.
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The sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another day For an approving God.
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Beauty crowds me till I die.
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The dandelion's pallid tube Astonishes the grass, And winter instantly becomes An infinite alas.
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Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
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What Soft--Cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen are-- One would as soon assault a Plush-- Or violate a Star
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There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a trance So memory can step around, across, upon it.
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We dream — it is good we are dreaming — It would hurt us — were we awake — But since it is playing — kill us, And we are playing — shriek — What harm? Men die — externally — It is a truth — of Blood — But we — are dying in Drama — And Drama — is never dead — Cautious — We jar each other — And either — open the eyes — Lest the Phantasm — prove the Mistake — And the livid Surprise Cool us to Shafts of Granite — With just an Age — and Name — And perhaps a phrase in Egyptian — It's prudenter — to dream —
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Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast; Grant, God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest.Please God, might I behold him In epauletted white, I should not fear the foe then, I should not fear the fight.
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As Summer into Autumn slips And yet we sooner say "The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest We turn the sun away, And almost count it an Affront The presence to concede Of one however lovely, not The one that we have loved - So we evade the charge of Years On one attempting shy The Circumvention of the Shaft Of Life's Declivity.
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To be alive is power; existence in itself; without a further function; omnipotence.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
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To travel far, there is no better ship than a book.
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Each that we lose takes a part of us; A crescent still abides, Which like the moon, some turbid night, Is summoned by the tides.
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What shall we do my darling, when trial grows more, and more, when the dim, lone light expires, and it's dark, so very dark, and we wander, and know not where, and cannot get out of the forest - whose is the hand to help us, and to lead, and forever guide us? ... Where do you think I've strayed and from what new errand returned. I have come from to and fro, and walking up and down the same place that Satan hailed from when God asked where he'd been.
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A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
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Then, as horizons step, Or noons report away,Without the formula of sound, It passes, and we stay:A quality of loss Affecting our content.
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God is indeed a jealous God. He cannot bear to see, that we had rather not with him, but with each other play.
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I like a look of Agony, because I know it's true - men do not sham Convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe
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At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.