Enough Is So Vast A Sweetness I

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, One Clover, And A Bee, And Revery. The Revery Alone Will Do, If Bees Are Few.

Common Sense Is Almost As Omniscient As God.

Is Bliss Then, Such Abyss, I Must Not Put My Foot Amiss For Fear I Spoil My Shoe? I'd Rather Suit My Foot Than Save My Boot -- For Yet To Buy Another Pair Is Possible, At Any Store -- But Bliss, Is Sold Just Once. The Patent Lost None Buy It Any More --

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes — The Nerves Sit Ceremonious, Like Tombs — The Stiff Heart Questions Was It He, That Bore, And Yesterday, Or Centuries Before? The Feet, Mechanical, Go Round — Of Ground, Or Air, Or Ought — A Wooden Way Regardless Grown, A Quartz Contentment, Like A Stone — This Is The Hour Of Lead — Remembered, If Outlived, As Freezing Persons, Recollect The Snow — First — Chill — Then Stupor — Then The Letting Go —

The Heart Is The Capital Of The Mind— The Mind Is A Single State— The Heart And The Mind Together Make A Single Continent— One—is The Population— Numerous Enough— This Ecstatic Nation Seek—it Is Yourself.