532
 
I tried to think a lonelier Thing
Than any I had seen—
Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in the Bone
Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
 
I probed Retrieverless things
My Duplicate—to borrow—
A Haggard Comfort springs
 
From the belief that Somewhere—
Within the Clutch of Thought—
There dwells one other Creature
Of Heavenly Love—forgot—
 
I plucked at our Partition
As One should pry the Walls—
Between Himself—and Horror’s Twin—
Within Opposing Cells—
 
I almost strove to clasp his Hand,
Such Luxury—it grew—
That as Myself—could pity Him—
Perhaps he—pitied me—

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