The Soul Selects Her Own

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

The Heart Is The Capital Of The Mind— The Mind Is A Single State— The Heart And The Mind Together Make A Single Continent— One—is The Population— Numerous Enough— This Ecstatic Nation Seek—it Is Yourself.

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

Which Anguish Was The Utterest--then-- To Perish, Or To Live?

A Great Hope Fell You Heard No Noise The Ruin Was Within.