God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her.
What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
You call for faith: I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists. The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say, If faith o'ercomes doubt.
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!
grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.
Wander at will, Day after day,-- Wander away, Wandering still-- Soul that canst soar! Body may slumber: Body shall cumber Soul-flight no more.
The best way to excape his ire Is, not to seem too happy.
But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Each life unfulfilled, you see; It hangs still, patchy and scrappy: We have not sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, despaired,—been happy.
The curious crime, the fine Felicity and flower of wickedness.
Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
Lofty designs must close in like effects.
Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.
Lose who may-I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
I want to know a butcher paints, A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute.
A man in armor is his armor's slave.
To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!
Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.
Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.
What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.
The moment eternal - just that and no more - When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
Graved inside of it, "Italy".
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