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It don't sound so terrible -- quite -- as it did --It don’t sound so terrible — quite — as it did –
I run it over — “Dead”, Brain, “Dead.”
Put it in Latin — left of my school –
Seems it don’t shriek so — under rule.

Turn it, a little — full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest –
Shift it — just –
Say “When Tomorrow comes this way –
I shall have waded down one Day.”

I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed — but then the Tomb
Like other new Things — shows largest — then –
And smaller, by Habit –

It’s shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance — a Year –
How like “a fit” — then –
Murder — wear!

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Is it dead -- Find it --Is it dead — Find it –
Out of sound — Out of sight –
“Happy”? Which is wiser –
You, or the Wind?
“Conscious”? Won’t you ask that –
Of the low Ground?

“Homesick”? Many met it –
Even through them — This
Cannot testify –
Themself — as dumb –

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'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem –
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke –
And let you from a Dream –

As if a Goblin with a Gauge –
Kept measuring the Hours –
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws –

And not a Sinew — stirred — could help,
And sense was setting numb –
When God — remembered — and the Fiend
Let go, then, Overcome –

As if your Sentence stood — pronounced –
And you were frozen led
From Dungeon’s luxury of Doubt
To Gibbets, and the Dead –

And when the Film had stitched your eyes
A Creature gasped “Reprieve”!
Which Anguish was the utterest — then –
To perish, or to live?

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A House upon the Height --A House upon the Height –
That Wagon never reached –
No Dead, were ever carried down –
No Peddler’s Cart — approached –

Whose Chimney never smoked –
Whose Windows — Night and Morn –
Caught Sunrise first — and Sunset — last –
Then — held an Empty Pane –

Whose fate — Conjecture knew –
No other neighbor — did –
And what it was — we never lisped –
Because He — never told –

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Before I got my eye put outBefore I got my eye put out
I liked as well to see –
As other Creatures, that have Eyes
And know no other way –

But were it told to me — Today –
That I might have the sky
For mine — I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me –

The Meadows — mine –
The Mountains — mine –
All Forests — Stintless Stars –
As much of Noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes –

The Motions of the Dipping Birds –
The Morning’s Amber Road –
For mine — to look at when I liked –
The News would strike me dead –

So safer — guess — with just my soul
Upon the Window pane –
Where other Creatures put their eyes –
Incautious — of the Sun –

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It can't be It can’t be “Summer”!
That — got through!
It’s early — yet — for “Spring”!
There’s that long town of White — to cross –
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can’t be “Dying”!
It’s too Rouge –
The Dead shall go in White –
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!

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We -- Bee and I -- live by the quaffing --We — Bee and I — live by the quaffing –
‘Tisn’t all Hock — with us –
Life has its Ale –
But it’s many a lay of the Dim Burgundy –
We chant — for cheer — when the Wines — fail –

Do we “get drunk”?
Ask the jolly Clovers!
Do we “beat” our “Wife”?
I — never wed –
Bee — pledges his — in minute flagons –
Dainty — as the trees — on our deft Head –

While runs the Rhine –
He and I — revel –
First — at the vat — and latest at the Vine –
Noon — our last Cup –
“Found dead” — “of Nectar” –
By a humming Coroner –
In a By-Thyme!

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Is it true, dear Sue?It can’t be “Summer”!
That — got through!
It’s early — yet — for “Spring”!
There’s that long town of White — to cross –
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can’t be “Dying”!
It’s too Rouge –
The Dead shall go in White –
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!

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