There Is A Solitude Of Space. A

I Hope Your Rambles Have Been Sweet, And Your Reveries Spacious

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

I Think Heaven Will Not Be As Good As Earth, Unless It Bring With It That Sweet Power To Remember, Which Is The Staple Of Heaven Here.

The Sweets Of Pillage Can Be Known To No One But The Thief, Compassion For Integrity Is His Divinest Grief.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.