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—