In many and reportless places
We feel a Joy —
Reportless, also, but sincere as Nature
Or Deity —
It comes, without a consternation —
Dissolves — the same —
But leaves a sumptuous Destitution —
Without a Name —
Profane it by a search — we cannot
It has no home —
Nor we who having once inhaled it —
Thereafter roam.
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