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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— How small in those who…

The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch— Praying that I might be Worthy—the Destiny— The Swarthy fellow swam— And bore my Jewel—Home— Home to the Hut! What lot Had I—the Jewel—got— Borne on a Dusky…

The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury ‘twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me In whatsoever Presence makes Till for a further Food I scarcely recollect to starve So first am I supplied— The Luxury…

The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon— And smites the Tinder in the Sun— And hinders Gabriel’s Wing— ‘Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—…

The lonesome for they know not What— The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday— And ever since—the purple Moat They strive to climb—in vain— As Birds—that tumble from the clouds Do fumble at the strain—…

The Loneliness One dare not sound— And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size— The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see— And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny—…

The Lightning playeth—all the while— But when He singeth—then— Ourselves are conscious He exist— And we approach Him—stern— With Insulators—and a Glove— Whose short—sepulchral Bass Alarms us—tho’ His Yellow feet May pass—and counterpass— Upon the Ropes—above our Head— Continual—with the…

The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference. The Parties in both cases Enjoining secrecy— Inviolable compact To notoriety.

The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different We noticed smallest things— Things overlooked before By this great light upon our Minds Italicized—as ’twere. As We went out and…

The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil! The Slave—forgets—to fill— The Lamp—burns golden—on— Unconscious that the oil is out— As that the Slave—is gone.