Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine — In a satin Vest!
Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
Ourself behind ourself, concealed — Should startle most — Assassin hid in our Apartment Be Horror’s least.
One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted — One need not be a House — The Brain has Corridors — surpassing Material Place —
Not knowing when the Dawn will come, I open every Door
No Rack can torture me — My Soul — at Liberty — Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One —
Nature is a haunted house — but Art — a House that tries to be haunted.
My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them!
Much madness is divinest Sense — To a discerning Eye — Much Sense — the starkest Madness — ‘Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail — Assent, and you are sane — Demur — you’re straightway dangerous — And handled with a Chain —
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
Luck is not chance — It’s Toil — Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned —
Love — thou are deep — I cannot cross thee — But, were there Two Instead of One — Rower, and Yacht — some sovereign Summer — Who knows — but we’d reach the Sun?
