I have not told my garden yet, Lest that should conquer me; I have not quite the strength now To break it to the bee.
Brewed from decades of agony! To think just how the fire will burn, Just how long-cheated eyes will turn.
Ah, brig, good-night To crew and you; The ocean’s heart too smooth, too blue, To break for you.
Cherries suit robins;.
Peril as a possession ‘T is good to bear, Danger disintegrates satiety; There’s Basis there Begets an awe, That searches Human Nature’s creases As clean as Fire.
And dip your fingers in the frost:.
I lived on dread;.
If you were here, and Oh that you were, my Susie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us...
Not even God can heal; For ‘t is his institution, – The complement of hell.
I looked in windows, for the wealth I could not hope to own.
And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine And ask my business there.
The silence like an ocean rolled, And broke against my ear.
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
They fling their speech By means of it in God’s ear;.
There interposed a fly, With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz, Between the light and me; And then the windows failed, and then I could not see to see.
A face devoid of love or grace, A hateful, hard, successful face, A face with which a stone Would feel as thoroughly at ease As were they old acquaintances, –.
There’s been a death in the opposite house.
The thought behind I strove to join Unto the thought before, But sequence ravelled out of reach.
THE SNOW. It sifts from leaden sieves, It powders all the wood, It fills with alabaster wool.
It burned me in the night, It blistered in my dream;.