The Brain Is Just The Weight Of

Affection Is Like Bread, Unnoticed Till We Starve, And Then We Dream Of It, And Sing Of It, And Paint It, When Every Urchin In The Street Has More Than He Can Eat.

I Have An Appetite For Silence.

And You Dropt, Lost, When Something Broke-- And Let You From A Dream

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several- Childhood-some Forms Of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may Sometimes Make A Journey- And Still Abide-.

They Say That God Is Everywhere, And Yet We Always Think Of Him As Somewhat Of A Recluse.