I Dwell In Possibilities .

... 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.

To See Her Is A Picture- To Hear Her Is A Tune- To Know Her An Intemperance As Innocent As June- To Know Her Not-affliction- To Own Her For A Friend A Warmth As Near As If The The Sun Were Shining In Your Hand.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

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 —

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