The vane a little from her. He, unmoved,
the forest of itself–the sexton keeps–
the soul selects her own desires, she
repeated–holding on–the dawn; the sun.
A boy, along appointed sands. A child,
the first in fight! The two Malays, unmoved,
a fame petite–a few ascetic eyes–
in England. If the streets were running, and
the bridges often go. The time. The sun!
Her lips; a purple tar, the sea. The sun.
The chief. A man. A light. The hope, amongst
the men in them. The thunder–had expired–
in human nature’s West! The apple on
the glass. The creatures chuckled on the ground,
between the rooms, until the morning and
the silence of the bird, a leap, a half
a smile, her face, her fingers at the child
in his possession–of the host–away.
Composed using Gnoetry0.2. End-user added a few em-dashes a’la Dickinson…
Emily Dickinson, Complete Dickinson
Joseph Conrad, An Outcast of the Islands