Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome.

His mind of man, a secret makes
I meet him with a start
He carries a circumference
In which I have no part.

We must be careful what we say. No bird resumes its egg.

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing Eyes --
I wonder if It weighs like Mine --
Or has an Easier size.

This World is not Conclusion.
A Sequel stands beyond--
Invisible, as Music--
But positive, as Sound.