To Make A Prairie It Takes A

I Can Wade Grief -- Whole Pools Of It -- I'm Used To That -- But The Least Push Of Joy Breaks Up My Feet -- And I Tip -- Drunken -- Let No Pebble -- Smile -- 'twas The New Liquor -- That Was All!

There Is A Solitude Of Space. A Solitude Of Sea. A Solitude Of Death, But These Societies Shall Be Compared With That Profounder Site-that Polar Privacy. A Soul Admitted To Itself--finite Infinity.

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.

Pain Has An Element Of Blank

The Only Commandment I Ever Obeyed — 'consider The Lilies.