A Little Madness In The Spring Is

There Is A Zone Whose Even Years No Solstice Interrupt - Whose Sun Constructs Perpetual Noon Whose Perfect Seasons Wait - Whose Summer Set In Summer, Till The Centuries Of June And Centuries Of August Cease And Consciousness - Is Noon.

... 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.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul - And Sings The Tunes Without The Words - And Never Stops At All.

My Business Is Circumference.

Does Not Eternity Appear Dreadful To You. I Often Get To Thinking Of It And It Seems So Dark To Me That I Almost Wish There Was No Eternity. To Think That We Must Forever Live And Never Cease To Be. It Seems As If Death Would Be A Relief To So Endless A State Of Existence.