[BNP/E3, 49A2 – 86]
Salisbury and Ultimate.
He’s dead, yet him we know, we man that
Against he weak, being one of the strong
Brought insult. Knowing that ill and wrong
Revolve upon the doer, {…}
Our hands are too much cruel to hurt and long
Justice and Right. He who on Justice harms
May conquer, for this conquers of strong arms
And but the just in the world evil throws
Yet aught of ill remains ill he who spit
To heaven receiveth back up his fame
The soil insult be to heaven thrown:
Thus you, dead, statemen, he who justice hists
Aside, to conquer, may, hit the disgrace
Mentally come. It will[1] to you.
June 1908
[86v]
I regret not the dead. But for the living
Can regret be, not {…}
For what remains to the best after death[2]?
Rot[3] and a name. Nothing and nothingness.
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I turn Zola aside, Hugo I’ve defeat
Behind the chair and in the sure chair
I give my soul entirely unto thee.
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When shall we voyage. I feel energy
To dream bold things. By nothing we’ll be stopped.
I have been happy which I learned to
He could then but have these strange nor thank thee?
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To Jules Verne
I thank thee, oh thank thee. Even to day
There are no tales as thine to make me read.
In the imagination of swift descend
Of {…} invention I do have my way
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Pleasantly, glad that I from life do stray
Not out dreams unhealthy, such as feed
Upon me often {…}
And on my spirit {…} prey.
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No; and I thank thee. I did fell thy death
Deeply, thou might dream of good things
With them I dream, yet rise in common wings
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Let me again read and again have faith
That the past time {…}
[1] will /comes\
[2] death/less\
[3] Rot /Dust\