Time Is Short And Full, Like An

I Had Been Hungry All The Years- My Noon Had Come, To Dine- I, Trembling, Drew The Table Near And Touched The Curious Wine. 'twas This On Tables I Had Seen When Turning, Hungry, Lone, I Looked In Windows, For The Wealth I Could Not Hope To Own. I Did Not Know The Ample Bread, 'twas So Unlike The Crumb The Birds And I Had Often Shared In Nature's Diningroom. The Plenty Hurt Me, 'twas So New,-- Myself Felt Ill And Odd, As Berry Of A Mountain Bush Transplanted To The Road. Nor Was I Hungry; So I Found That Hunger Was A Way Of Persons Outside Windows, The Entering Takes Away.

The Truth Dazzles Gradually, Or Else The World Would Be Blind.

Portrait The World Spreads Out On Either Side No Farther Than The Heart Is Wide.

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

... And Then I Heard Them Lift A Box, And Creak Across My Soul With Those Same Boots Of Lead, Again, Then Space Began To Toll.