A Word That Breathes Distinctly

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

Just Girt Me For The Onset With Eternity, When Breath Blew Back, And On The Other Side I Heard Recede The Disappointed Tide!

The Crime, From Us, Is Hidden, [though] He Is Presumed To Know.

The Truth I Do Not Dare To Know I Muffle With A Jest.

A Narrow Fellow In The Grass Occasionally Rides