523 POEMS Seventh Station 'Tis not the stones that conquer now, nor the knotted flails; It is the soul that falters here, it is the soul that fails. O midway of our mortal life when the strong...
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467 POEMS Quietness I would kiss the hand of Quietness, Like some white flower; fingertips as cool As carved white jade upon my burning wrist; Peaceful as lilies in an opal pool Of beauty...
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