Emotions and Feelings

My heart is like a singing bird.

Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What Fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot— The opening of a Door—

Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What Fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot— The opening of a Door—

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet.

I took one Draught of Life— I’ll tell you what I paid— Precisely an existence— The market price, they said. They weighed me, Dust by Dust— They balanced Film with Film, Then handed me my Being’s worth— A single Dram of Heaven!

A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork Without a Revery— And so encountering a Fly This January Day Jamaicas of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in.

Love’s stricken “why” Is all that love can speak— Built of but just a syllable The hugest hearts that break.

Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone— A Whip so small you could not see it I’ve known To lash the Magic Creature Till it fell.

A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.

We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise And then, if we are true to plan Our statures touch the skies.

But never met this Fellow Attended or alone Without a tighter breathing And Zero at the Bone—

If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching Or cool one Pain Or help one fainting Robin Unto his Nest again I shall not live in Vain.

If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching Or cool one Pain Or help one fainting Robin Unto his Nest again I shall not live in Vain.

Adventure most unto itself The Soul condemned to be— Attended by a single Hound Its own identity.

Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot Delivered straighter to the Heart The leaving Love behind.

Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot Delivered straighter to the Heart The leaving Love behind.

God gave a Loaf to every Bird— But just a Crumb—to Me—

And that White Sustenance— Despair—

Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not—

Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not—

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf.

I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered— Brazil? He twirled a Button— Without a glance my way— “But—Madam—is there nothing else— That We can show—Today?”

After great pain, a formal feeling comes.