Whose Pink career may have a close

Death—had the same design—But the Success—was His—it seems—And the Surrender—Mine—I meant to tell Her how I longedFor just this single time—But Death had told Her so the first—And she had past, with Him—To wander—now—is my Repose—To rest—To rest would beA privilege of HurricaneTo Memory—and Me.

Where Daffodils—abide—Her Maker—Her Metropolis—The Universe—Her Maid—To fetch Her Grace—and Hue—And Fairness—and Renown—The Firmament’s—To Pluck Her—And fetch Her Thee—be mine—

If Immortality unveilA third event to meSo huge, so hopeless to conceiveAs these that twice befell.Parting is all we know of heaven,And all we need of hell.

At Morning, in a Truffled HutIt stop opon a SpotAs if it tarried alwaysAnd yet it’s whole CareerIs shorter than a Snake’s Delay –And fleeter than a Tare –‘Tis Vegetation’s Juggler –The Germ of Alibi –Doth like a Bubble antedateAnd like a Bubble, hie –I feel as if the Grass was pleasedTo have it intermit…

I met one, — forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightaway.God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine. How dreary marbles,After playing the Crown!

I cannot climb thee—But, were it Two—Who know but we—Taking turns—at the Chimborazo—Ducal—at last—stand up by thee—Love—thou are deep—I cannot cross thee—But, were there TwoInstead of One—Rower, and Yacht—some sovereign Summer—Who knows—but we’d reach the Sun?Love—thou are Veiled—A few—behold thee—Smile—and alter—and prattle—and die—Bliss—were an Oddity—without thee—Nicknamed by God—Eternity—