Enough Is So Vast A Sweetness I

The Appetite For Silence Is Seldom An Acquired Taste.

I See Thee Better In The Dark, I Do Not Need A Light. The Love Of Thee A Prism Be Excelling Violet. I See Thee Better For The Years That Hunch Themselves Between, The Miner’s Lamp Sufficient Be To Nullify The Mine. And In The Grave I See Thee Best— Its Little Panels Be A-glow, All Ruddy With The Light I Held So High For Thee! What Need Of Day To Those Whose Dark Hath So Surpassing Sun, It Seem It Be Continually At The Meridian?

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

'arcturus' Is His Other Name- I'd Rather Call Him 'star.' It's Very Mean Of Science To Go And Interfere!

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?