It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness – I’m so accustomed to my Fate – Perhaps the Other – Peace – Would interrupt the Dark – And crowd the little Room – Too scant – by Cubits – to contain The Sacrament – of Him – I am not used to Hope – It might intrude upon – Its sweet parade – blaspheme the place – Ordained to Suffering – It might be easier To fail – with Land in Sight – Than gain – My Blue Peninsula – To perish – of Delight –
