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Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!
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... And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again, Then space began to toll.
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod.
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The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.
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The Things that never can come back, are several- Childhood-some forms of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may sometimes make a Journey- And still abide-.
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You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.
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MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me!
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And then--a Day as huge As Yesterdays in pairs, Unrolled its horror in my face-- Until it blocked my eyes
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Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be seen So gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest felt at Noon When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify Remit as yet no Grace No Furrow on the Glow Yet a Druidic Difference Enhances Nature now.
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Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true.
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Spring is the Period Express from God.
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The brain is wider than the sky, For, put them side by side, The one the other will include With ease, and you beside.
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You cannot put a fire out! A thing that can ignite can go itself- without a flame- E'en through the darkest night!
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The Supernatural is only the Natural disclosed.
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Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? Not death. For who is he?
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Does not Eternity appear dreadful to you. I often get to thinking of it and it seems so dark to me that I almost wish there was no Eternity. To think that we must forever live and never cease to be. It seems as if Death would be a relief to so endless a state of existence.
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Expectation is contentment - Gain satiety.
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My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June - and in it are my friends - every one of them.
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To shut your eyes is to travel.
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God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.
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Existence has overpowered Books. Today I slew a Mushroom.
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To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
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Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.