VI
The way I read a letter ‘s this:‘T is first I lock the door,And push it with my fingers next,For transport it be sure.
And then I go the furthest offTo counteract a knock;Then draw my little letter forthAnd softly pick its lock.
Then, glancing narrow at the wall,And narrow at the floor,For firm conviction of a mouseNot exorcised before,
Peruse how infinite I amTo—no one that you know!And sigh for lack of heaven,—but notThe heaven the creeds bestow.