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If your Nerve, deny you - Go above your Nerve
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My friends are my 'estate.' Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them.
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Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.
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To possess is past the instant; we achieve the joy, immortality contented, were anomaly.
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To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights,What must the Midnights - be!
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This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me - The simple News that Nature told - With tender MajestyHer Message is committed To Hands I cannot see - For love of Her - Sweet - countrymen - Judge tenderly - of Me
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My Faith is larger than the Hills— So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way— 'Tis first He steps upon the Vane— And then — upon the Hill— And then abroad the World He go To do His Golden Will— And if His Yellow feet should miss— The Bird would not arise— The Flowers would slumber on their Stems— No Bells have Paradise— How dare I, therefore, stint a faith On which so vast depends— Lest Firmament should fail for me— The Rivet in the Bands
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I must go in, the fog is rising.
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A dim capacity for wings demeans the dress I wear.
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Death is a supple suitor, that wins at last. It is a stealthy wooing; conducted first by pallid innuendos and dim approach, but brave at last with bugles.
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Dreams - are well - but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn - If One wake at Midnight - better - Dreaming - of the Dawn.
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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
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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.
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LOOK back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best; How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!
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The minister today preached about death and judgment, and what would become of those who behaved improperly - and somehow it scared me. He preached such an awful sermon I didn't think I should ever see you again until the Judgment Day. The subject of perdition seemed to please him somehow.
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'Faith' is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see - But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
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I am one of the lingering bad ones, and so do I slink away, and pause, and ponder, and ponder, and pause, and do work without knowing why - not surely for this brief world, and more sure it is not for heaven - and I ask what this message of Christ means.
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Fate slew him, but he did not drop; She felled-he did not fall- Impaled him on her fiercest stakes- He neutralized them all.She stung him, sapped his firm advance, But, when her worst was done, And he, unmoved, regarded her, Acknowledged him a man.
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He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
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How frugal is the chariot that bears a human soul.
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Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
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How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And does n’t care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
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A little Madness in the SpringIs wholesome even for the King.
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Could Hope inspect her BasisHer Craft were done -Has a fictitious CharterOr it has none -Balked in the vastest instanceBut to renew -Felled but by one assassin -Prosperity -