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PoemSentimentClassification

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"sorry? of course you are, though you compress,
2
i would not live alway
2
the king ordains their entrance, and ascends
1
very sleepy with the silence.
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which clanged along the mountain's marble brow--
2
it steam in winter like an ox's breath,
2
in prosperous days. like a dim, waning lamp
3
jarr'd his own golden region; and before
2
flood his black hearthstone till its flames expire,
0
when high i heap it with the weed
2
the climax of those hopes and duties dear
1
wait his returning strength.
2
strove to raise itself in blessing,
1
nile shall pursue his changeless way:
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i must be home by noon-time with the cart.'
2
both the unseen and the seen;
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the poet comes the last!
2
with many sighs;
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where, all the long and lone daylight,
2
full of the calm that cometh after sleep:
1
men said, into a smile which guile portended,
0
still sigurd rides with the brethren, as oft in the other days,
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was she not somewhat that he could not rule
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gnossian his shafts, and lycian was his bow:
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you didn't stop for fuss,--
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deaf, and dumb, and blind, and cold,
0
i'm here--so far--and starting on again.
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a different man was brother timothy,
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see! neptune’s altars minister their brands:
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to match your wit against the maker's will,
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absently fingering and touching it,
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three hours the first november dawn
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ran ever clearer speech than that did run
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"i say it's someone passing."
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the visual nerve is withered to the root,
0
"what hope wouldst thou hope, o sigurd, ere we kiss, we twain, and depart?"
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there is nothing to hope for, i am tired,
0
i left the place with all my might, --
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let dat cradle swing,
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he has no calling and he owns no trade.
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as they were loosened by that hermit old,
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then rose they up around him,
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but because she stept to her star right on through death
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an' see a hundred hills like islan's
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and i am still the same;
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misnames as the dog rosey now.
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have seen the danger which i dared not look
0
and hoping chink, she talked of morts of luck:
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the meadows mine, the mountains mine, --
2
since ferdinand and you begun
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i'm always thinkin' long.
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ho! philip, send, for charity, thy mexican pistoles,
2
on to their shining goals:--
1
glory might burst on us!
1
what's de use o' gittin' mopy,
2
yet by experience taught we know how good,
2
all foredoomed to melt away;
0
as if she were a woman. we who have clipt
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it would be different if more people came,
2
plucked from the death, wilt thou repay me thus?
3
a spirit of unresting flame,
1
the present is enough, for common souls,
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hear its low inward singing,
2
be sure to read it rightly. so, i mused
2
and keep my senses straightened
2
three trojans tug at ev’ry lab’ring oar;
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mind us of like repose, since god hath set
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lift their blue woods in broken chain
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in nothing is wanting;
2
but thrown in a heap with a crush and a clatter;
0
and kissed him with a sister's kiss,
2
"thou of the god-lent crown,
2
like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.
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and she said: "what dost thou, brynhild? what matter dost thou seek?"
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or the bolder art essaying
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thither, if but to prie, shall be perhaps
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o'er sweet profounds where only love can see.
1
he smell de bacon cookin', an' he hyeah de fiah hum;
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came in slow pomp;--the moving pomp might seem
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with peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow,
1
but thy tranquil waters teach
1
smoothing the clustered hair, and parting it
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in all that clang and hewing out of men,
2
her scutcheon shows white with a blazon of red,--
2
looks, and is dumb with awe;
3
then oer the rushes flies again,
2
a thousand rubs had flattened down each little cherub's nose,
2
a fragrance from the cedars, thickly set
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of bright and dark obscurity;
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science and song, and all the arts that please;
1
you turn, o jeanne, on our mystery
2
a graciousness in giving that doth make
1
most beauteous isadore!
1
whose instinct was to listen and obey.
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but homesick tears would fill the eyes
0
already, land! thou hast declared: 'tis done.
1
with war unhop’d the latians to surprise?
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the eyes beside had wrung them dry,
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tis the chronicle of art.
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that moved in the beginning o'er his face,
2