“Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.”

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,And Mourners to and froKept treading – treading – till it seemedThat Sense was breaking through – And when they all were seated,A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thoughtMy Mind was going numb – And then I heard them lift a BoxAnd creak across my SoulWith those same Boots of Lead, again,Then Space – began to toll,As all the Heavens were a Bell,And Being, but an Ear,And I, and Silence, some strange RaceWrecked, solitary, here – And then a Plank in Reason, broke,And I dropped down, and down – And hit a World, at every plunge,And Finished knowing – then –”

“How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!”

“There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a tranceSo memory can step around, across, upon it.”

“Unto my Books-so good to turn-Far ends of tired Days-It half endears the Abstinence-And Pain-is missed-in Praise-As Flavors-cheer Retarded GuestsWith Banquettings to be-So Spices-stimulate the timeTill my small Library-It may be Wilderness-without-Far feet of failing Men-But Holiday-excludes the night-And it is Bells-within-I thank these Kinsmen of the Shelf-Their Countenances KidEnamor-in Prospective-And satisfy-obtained-”

“There is a pain – so utter – It swallows substance up – Then covers the Abyss with Trance – So Memory can step Around – across – opon it – As one within a Swoon – Goes safely – where an open eye – Would drop Him – Bone by Bone.”

“The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise.”