You Left Me Boundaries Of Pain Capacious

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.

We Do Not Play On Graves— Because There Isn't Room— Besides—it Isn't Even—it Slants And People Come— And Put A Flower On It— And Hang Their Faces So— We're Fearing That Their Hearts Will Drop— And Crush Our Pretty Play— And So We Move As Far As Enemies—away— Just Looking Round To See How Far It Is—occasionally—

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

We Outgrow Love Like Other Things And Put It In A Drawer, Till It An Antique Fashion Shows Like Costumes Grandsires Wore.

To Multiply The Harbors Does Not Reduce The Sea.