Much Madness is divinest Sense —

This is my letter to the World

’Twas just this time, last year, I died

I died for Beauty — but was scarce

I heard a Fly buzz — when I died —

I'm ceded — I've stopped being Theirs —

It was not death, for I stood up

If you were coming in the Fall

To hear an Oriole sing

The Martyr Poets — did not tell —

To fill a Gap

I've seen a Dying Eye

Trust in the Unexpected —

I see thee better — in the Dark —

I dwell in Possibility —

One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted —

Essential Oils — are wrung —

To be alive — is Power —

They say that "Time assuages" —

Would you like summer? Taste of ours.