It is a poetry book. Dearl Is the distance vast? I cross it here. The chasm fathomless? I span it thus. The silence dread? I break it. What is jhar? When onbz our own hearts can sever us. The gold and frankineense I should have given, Envy the myrrh I lay within your hand, Dearer to me than fame of earth or heaven It is, to know that you will understand.
