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Poems about Dark
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Sometimes when I'm alone
I Cry,
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
The bricks are the color of blood
and very small.
There are never any suicides in the quarter among people one knows
No successful suicides.
Peace, good reader, do not weep;
Peace, the lovers are asleep.
I HAVE walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
We each of us have a good "alibi"
For being down here in the "joint"
All fled--all done, so lift me on the pyre;
The feast is over, and the lamps expire.
Darkest clouds of blackest Hades, Whirling onward into space;
A suicide in front of a mirror.
A frightened soul.
THE CRAB, the bullace, and the sloe,
They burgeon in the Spring;
Many red devils ran from my heart
And out upon the page,
Hair-braided chestnut, coiled like a lyncher's rope,
THE warder looks down at the mid hour of night,
On the tombs that lie scatter'd below:
Burgum, I thank thee, thou hast let me see
That Bristol has impress'd her stamp on thee,
koii ummiid bar nahii.n aatii
koii suurat nazar nahii.n aatii
THOU art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
One ought not to have to care
So much as you and I
Andrada, rip that flag of the air!
Columbus, close the door of your seas!
She marched across the floor of hell;
And all the damned stood up to see.
How would you have us, as we are? Or sinking 'neath the load we bear?
Within my house of patterned horn
I sleep in such a bed
Sometimes at night through the shadowy trees
She rides along on a winter breeze.
Listen thou, my foul heart,
Heart of a human beast
This was what the pointsman said,
With both hands at his throbbing head:--
My mournful soul, you, sorrowing
For all my friends around,
I go out in the grey evening
In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation.
WHEN Orpheus with his wind-swift fingers
Ripples the strings that gleam like rain,
It was the night before the famous day
When that befell of which I write. The house
Nor Love nor Fate dare I accuse
For that my love did me refuse,
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