That Love Is All There Is, Is

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

Truth Is So Rare That It Is Delightful To Tell It.

They Address An Eclipse Every Morning, Whom They Call Their "father."

Ample Make This Bed. Make This Bed With Awe; In It Wait Till Judgment Break Excellent And Fair. Be Its Mattress Straight, Be Its Pillow Round; Let No Sunrise’ Yellow Noise Interrupt This Ground.