Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.
The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
Time is short and full, like an outgrown Frock - .
Faith is a fine invention When gentlemen can see, But microscopes are prudent In an emergency.
Till I loved I never lived.
There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a trance So memory can step around, across, upon it.