The Loneliness One dare not sound -- by Emily Dickinson
The Loneliness One dare not sound -- And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size --
The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see -- And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny --
The Horror not to be surveyed -- But skirted in the Dark -- With Consciousness suspended -- And Being under Lock --
I fear me this -- is Loneliness -- The Maker of the soul Its Caverns and its Corridors Illuminate -- or seal --
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