Poems

Capa
Modern Library, 1921 - 311 páginas

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I
II
1
III
12
IV
24
V
79
VI
97
VII
115
VIII
125
XV
178
XVI
182
XVII
189
XVIII
194
XIX
195
XX
209
XXI
213
XXII
228

IX
135
X
141
XI
146
XII
151
XIII
158
XIV
169

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Página 279 - Coffin that passes through lanes and streets, Through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land, With the pomp of the inloop'd flags with the cities draped in black, With the show of the States themselves as of...
Página 278 - Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd WHEN lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring. Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, And thought of him I love.
Página 125 - AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road. Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
Página 75 - I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is. And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud...
Página 29 - The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Página 213 - Down from the shower'd halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories sad brother, from the...
Página 58 - I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs...
Página 70 - Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay it. For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata...
Página 28 - And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.

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