And Anguish—absolute—
And many hurt,
But, what of that?
I reason, we could die—
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?
I reason, that in Heaven—
Somehow, it will be even—
Some new Equation, given—
But, what of that?
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There is another sky,
And there is another sunshine,Though it be darkness there;Never mind faded forests, Austin,Never mind silent fields—Here is a little forest,Whose leaf is ever green;Here is a brighter garden,Where not a frost has been;In its unfading flowersI hear the bright bee hum:Prithee, my brother,Into my garden come!
‘Nature’ is what we see—
Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee—Nay—Nature is Heaven—Nature is what we hear—The Bobolink—the Sea—Thunder—the Cricket—Nay—Nature is Harmony—Nature is what we know—Yet have no art to say—So impotent Our Wisdom isTo her Simplicity.
The Hills in Purple syllables
To little Groups of ContinentsJust going Home from School.
I had no time to hate, because
And life was not so ample ICould finish enmity.Nor had I time to love, but sinceSome industry must be,The little toil of love, I thought,Was large enough for me.
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A Threadless WayI pushed Mechanic feet—To stop—or perish—or advance—Alike indifferent—If end I gainedIt ends beyondIndefinite disclosed—I shut my eyes—and groped as well‘Twas lighter—to be Blind—
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So sick—to guess—So strong—to know—So brave—upon its little BedTo tell the very last They saidUnto Itself—and smile—And shake—For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake—But—the Instead—the Pinching fearThat Something—it did do—or dare—Offend the Vision—and it flee—And They no more remember me—Nor ever turn to tell me why—Oh, Master, This is Misery—