Suspense — is Hostiler than Death —

Suspense — is Hostiler than Death —

Death — tho'soever Broad,

Is Just Death, and cannot increase —

Suspense — does not conclude —


But perishes — to live anew —

But just anew to die —

Annihilation —...

Poet:
That this should feel the need of Death

That this should feel the need of Death

The same as those that lived

Is such a Feat of Irony

As never was — achieved —


Not satisfied to ape the Great

In his simplicity

The small must die, as well as...

Poet:
The first We knew of Him was Death —

The first We knew of Him was Death —

The second — was — Renown —

Except the first had justified

The second had not been.

Poet:
The Frost of Death was on the Pane —

The Frost of Death was on the Pane —

"Secure your Flower" said he.

Like Sailors fighting with a Leak

We fought Mortality.


Our passive Flower we held to Sea —

To Mountain — To the Sun —

Yet even on...

Poet:
The Manner of its Death

The Manner of its Death

When Certain it must die —

'Tis deemed a privilege to choose —

'Twas Major Andre's Way —


When Choice of Life — is past —

There yet remains a Love

Its little Fate to stipulate...

Poet:
The Test of Love — is Death —

The Test of Love — is Death —

Our Lord — "so loved" — it saith —

What Largest Lover — hath

Another — doth —


If smaller Patience — be —

Through less Infinity —

If Bravo, sometimes swerve —
...

Poet:
There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,

There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,

As lately as Today —

I know it, by the numb look

Such Houses have — alway —


The Neighbors rustle in and out —

The Doctor — drives away —

A Window opens...

Poet:
A thought on death



Alas! my thoughts, how faint they rise,
Their pinions clogg'd with dirt;

They cannot gain the distant skies,
...

Poet:
Till Death — is narrow Loving —

Till Death — is narrow Loving —

The scantest Heart extant

Will hold you till your privilege

Of Finiteness — be spent —


But He whose loss procures you

Such Destitution that

Your Life too abject for...

Poet:
To make One's Toilette — after Death

To make One's Toilette — after Death

Has made the Toilette cool

Of only Taste we cared to please

Is difficult, and still —


That's easier — than Braid the Hair —

And make the Bodice gay —

When eyes...

Poet: