A second crop thine acres yield
Which I gather in a song.
The Apology.
People say sometimes, “See what I have overcome; see how cheerful I am; see how completely I have triumphed over these black events.” Not if they still remind me of the black event.—Circles.
Queen of things! I dare not die
In Being’s deeps past ear and eye;
Lest there I find the same deceiver
And be the sport of Fate forever.
Ode to Beauty.
River and rose and crag and bird,