Ah, when shall come love's courage to be strong!
Tell me, O Lord?tell me, O Lord, how long
Are we to keep Christ writhing on the cross!

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Calvary (l. 12-14). . . Modern American Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed. (8th rev. ed., 1962) Harcourt, Brace and Company.)

Your Dollar is your only Word,
The wrath of it your only fear.

"You build it altars tall enough
To make you see, but your are blind;
You cannot leave it long enough
To look before you or behind.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Cassandra (l. 3-8). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Friendless and faint, with martyred steps and slow,
Faint for the flesh, but for the spirit free,

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Calvary (l. 1-2). . . Modern American Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed. (8th rev. ed., 1962) Harcourt, Brace and Company.)

He comes unfailing for the loan
We give and then forget;
He comes, and probably for years
Will he be coming yet,?
Familiar as an old mistake,
And futile as regret.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Bewick Finzer (l. 25-30). . . Modern American Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed. (8th rev. ed., 1962) Harcourt, Brace and Company.)

And though I know the fellow, I have spent
Long time a-wondering when I shall be
As happy as Cliff Klingenhagen is.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Cliff Klingenhagen (l. 12-14). . . Anthology of American Poetry. George Gesner, ed. (1983) Avenel Books.)

A thousand golden sheaves were lying there,
Shining and still, but not for long to stay?
As if a thousand girls with golden hair
Might rise from where they slept and go away.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. The Sheaves (l. 11-14). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Black water, smooth above the weir
Like starry velvet in the night,
Though ruffled once, would soon appear
The same as ever to the sight.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. The Mill (l. 21-24). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

"There are no millers any more,"
Was all that she had heard him say:
And he had lingered at the door
So long that it seemed yesterday.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. The Mill (l. 5-8). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. Richard Cory (l. 7-8). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Give him the darkest inch your shelf allows,
Hide him in lonely garrets, if you will,?
But his hard, human pulse is throbbing still
With the sure strength that fearless truth endows.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), U.S. poet. George Crabbe (l. 1-4). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)