O free indeed! O gloriously free
Am I in freedom from three crooked things: —
From quern, from mortar, from my crookbacked lord!
Ay, but I'm free from rebirth and from death,
And all that dragged me back is hurled away.

When they saw him on the road, many in scorn passed by on the other side; some mocking pushed him with their foot and went their way; others came near and poured out abuse, and having added pain to pain, departed.
What! is there not in this world one sorrowing heart, a tear or two, for a human being fallen? Him, fallen on the way and helpless, they trample underfoot and go by. Is there none to stretch out loving hands?

Look, she is a living doll. As the fruit of a thousand births, as reward for a thousand austerities, she had favour on us at break of day and came. To welcome her the dawn maiden with swift hands made blossom and bud to flower; when they heard that she would come to earth, the sweet singing birds carolled welcome with dulcet voice; the morning breeze said softly to all men, " There comes to earth a flower from heaven. "

Ev'ning, thou bringest whatever the splendor of morning had scattered:
Sheep and the goat to the pinfold, and home the child to the mother.

Girls of mine, who made me great in Lesbos,
Gifting me with works of their own weaving …

Bitter was the tsar's curse to hear; aye! and a word of woe:
" Who comes not to the battle with me at Kosovo,
Let nothing grow beneath his hand in the field that he shall till;
Let not the white wheat spring in the field, nor the vine shoot on the hill! "

If our life be less than a morning in eternity, if the revolving year drive on our days without a hope of return, if everything that's born must die,
What dost thou dream, O my imprisoned soul? Why dost thou joy in the darkness of our day, since on thy back thou hast plumed wings to soar to clearer heights?
There is the good that every soul desires; there is the rest for which the world doth yearn; there love is and there too is pleasure.
There, O my soul, led to the highest heaven, thou shalt perceive the Idea of Beauty which in this world I do adore!

My astronomies demand revision and a makeover. In other words, my stem cells are killing me. Open the zipper to your other self, and by your I mean me. I have all sorts of mentions. My bow is handy in situations like this. I have one and one arrow that flies crooked, but linear. It's called deliverance.

Your country-house is not exposed
To any blustering gale —
But, since your mortgagees foreclosed,
It's now exposed for sale:
And this exposure, none can doubt,
Is likely, friend, to freeze you out.

SILK EMBROIDERY

Lo silken my garden, and silken my sky,
And silken my apple-boughs hanging on high;
All wrought by the Worm in the peasant carle's cot
On the Mulberry leafage when summer was hot!