I kind of miss way back
when you and I were
just us and everyday,
everyday was only ours.

You stood out like
every mishap does
and I could never regret you.
(Just open your eyes.)

People are walking poetry
Hard battles inside the mind.
Sometimes soft, sometimes loud, always chaos
Nothing forgotten, left behind.

Sometimes I think that people
Are full of burning hate
Then I realize that they hold love
Two opposing traits.

People are walking poetry
Each of us made of words
Caging feelings so very deep
We are adjectives and verbs
We are poems you’ll want to keep.

549

That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived—Enough—

That I shall love alway—
I argue thee
That love is life—
And life hath Immortality—

This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary—

1212

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

1251

Silence is all we dread.
There’s Ransom in a Voice—
But Silence is Infinity.
Himself have not a face.

1704

Unto a broken heart
No other one may go
Without the high prerogative
Itself hath suffered too.

1696

These are the days that Reindeer love
And pranks the Northern star—
This is the Sun’s objective,
And Finland of the Year.

175

I have never seen “Volcanoes”—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

Bear within—appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men—

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place—

If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome—
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy “Pompeii”!
To the Hills return!