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We will rush ever on without fear;
Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!
For we carry the Heavens with us, dear,The night is horrible here
With haggard faces and fear,No keener joy awaits us here.
And yet each day I write with fear.Today is ours; what do we fear?
Today is ours; we have it here.His Merit—all my fear—
Contrasting which, my quality
Do lowlier—appear—sing their song, mingled here
with sobs to soothe the spoiled child’s fear.We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year.But—the Instead—the Pinching fear
That Something—it did do—or dare—My heart went fluttering with fear
Lest you should go, and leave me hereAnd I guard thy gates in fear
Of words thou canst not hear,O collectors, have no fear,
For the publisher will issue
New editions every year.Run along, and never fear,
I'll take care of baby dear:And that Dorinda may not fear
I e'er will prove untrue,
My vows shall, ending with the year,Upon the mind to hold them clear,
And, knowing more may yet appear,
Unto one's latest breath to fearBut Gravity—and Expectation—and Fear—
A tremor just, that All's not sure.To them these silvery dews can never again be dear,
Nor the blue javelin-flame of the thunderous noons strike fear.Too near to Heaven—to fear—
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care—I have been wanton, and too bold, I fear,
To chafe o'er-much the virgin's cheek or ear;--All may go well for many a year,
But who can think without a fearIF you see this song, my dear,
And last year's toast,
I'm confoundedly in fear