'I shall be one with nature, herb, and stone', Shelley would tell me. Shelley wound be stunned:...
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I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.
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Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;
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Dead men may envy living mites in cheese, Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys, And subdivide, and never come to death.
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And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan. And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid...
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