For Students
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There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.
Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.
Luck is not chance—
It's Toil—Fortune's expensive smile
Is earned—.
How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one life the Aching
Or cool one Pain
blanks
Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit—Life!
Pain—has an Element of Blank—
It cannot recollect
When it begun—or if there were
A time when it was not—.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise—you know!
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons—
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes.
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
Time is a Test of Trouble—
But not a Remedy—
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady—.