What Soft--cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen Are-- One

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.

We Dream — It Is Good We Are Dreaming — It Would Hurt Us — Were We Awake — But Since It Is Playing — Kill Us, And We Are Playing — Shriek — What Harm? Men Die — Externally — It Is A Truth — Of Blood — But We — Are Dying In Drama — And Drama — Is Never Dead — Cautious — We Jar Each Other — And Either — Open The Eyes — Lest The Phantasm — Prove The Mistake — And The Livid Surprise Cool Us To Shafts Of Granite — With Just An Age — And Name — And Perhaps A Phrase In Egyptian — It's Prudenter — To Dream —

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

Faith-is The Pierless Bridge Supporting What We See Unto The Scene That We Do Not.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.