(106) DUST is the only secret, Death the only one You cannot find out all about In his native town: Nobody knew his father, Never was a boy, Hadn’t any playmates Or early history. Industrious, laconic, Punctual, sedate, Bolder than a Brigand, Swifter than a Fleet, Builds like a bird too, Christ robs the next— Robin after robin Smuggled to rest!
-Emily Dickinson