The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest

How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking Of A Door.

To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave, But Gallanter, I Know, Who Charge Within The Bosom, The Cavalry Of Woe.

I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb, When One Who Died For Truth Was Lain In An Adjoining Room. He Questioned Softly Why I Failed? "for Beauty," I Replied. "and I For Truth, The Two Are One; We Brethren Are," He Said. And So, As Kinsmen Met A Night, We Talked Between The Rooms, Until The Moss Had Reached Our Lips, And Covered Up Our Names.

I Can Wade Grief -- Whole Pools Of It -- I'm Used To That -- But The Least Push Of Joy Breaks Up My Feet -- And I Tip -- Drunken -- Let No Pebble -- Smile -- 'twas The New Liquor -- That Was All!

The Truth Must Dazzle Gradually Or Every Man Be Blind.