• Reverse cannot befall

    That fine Prosperity

    Whose Sources are interior —

    As soon — Adversity


    A Diamond — overtake

    In far — Bolivian Ground —

    Misfortune hath no implement

    Could mar it — if it found —

  • Revolution is the Pod

    Systems rattle from

    When the Winds of Will are stirred

    Excellent is Bloom


    But except its Russet Base

    Every Summer be

    The Entomber of itself,

    So of Liberty —


    Left inactive on the Stalk

    All its Purple fled

    Revolution shakes...

  • Ribbons of the Year —

    Multitude Brocade —

    Worn to Nature's Party once


    Then, as flung aside

    As a faded Bead

    Or a Wrinkled Pearl

    Who shall charge the Vanity

    Of the Maker's Girl?


  • Riches


    The countless gold of a merry heart

    The rubies & pearls of a loving eye

    The indolent never can bring to the mart

    Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury[4]

  • Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun

    Seductive in the Air —

    That Tun is hollow — but the Tun —

    With Hundred Weights — to spare —


    Too ponderous to suspect the snare

    Espies that fickle chair

    And seats itself to be let go

    By that perfidious Hair —


    The "foolish Tun" the...

  • Robbed by Death — but that was easy —

    To the failing Eye

    I could hold the latest Glowing —

    Robbed by Liberty


    For Her Jugular Defences —

    This, too, I endured —

    Hint of Glory — it afforded —

    For the Brave Beloved —


    Fraud of Distance — Fraud of Danger,

    Fraud...

  • Oh! how thou art changed, thou proud daughter of fame,

    Since that hour of ripe glory, when empire was thine,

    When earth's purple rulers, kings, quailed at thy name,

    And thy capitol worshipped as Liberty's shrine.


    In the day of thy pride, when thy crest was untamed,

    And the red star of conquest was bright...

  • O, pour upon my soul again

        That sad, unearthly strain,

    That seems from other worlds to plain;

    Thus falling, falling from afar,

    As if some melancholy star

    Had mingled with her light her sighs,

        And dropped them from the skies.


    No - never came from aught below

        This...

  • Last days of August ... autumn is already advancing.

         The sun was setting. Sudden gusts of rain, no thunder and no lightning, just flashed over our broad plain.

         Garden before the house burned and smoked, all bathed in the morning fire and flood of rain.

         She sat at a table in the living room and a stubborn looked pensively...