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HE 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 off To counteract a knock; Then draw my little letter forth And softly pick its lock.

Then, glancing narrow at the wall, And narrow at the floor, For firm conviction of a mouse Not exorcised before,

Peruse how infinite I am To -- no one that you know! And sigh for lack of heaven, — but not The heaven the creeds bestow.