DANKLAND FEELS THE INTENSE DESIRE TO SCOOP UP EMILY DICKINSON IN HIS ARMS AND RUN TO THE FURTHEST CORNER OF THE WORLD WHERE THEY CAN KISS ALL NIGHT

In many and reportless places
We feel a Joy --
Reportless, also, but sincere as Nature
Or Deity --

It comes, without a consternation --
Dissolves -- the same --
But leaves a sumptuous Destitution --
Without a Name --

Profane it by a search -- we cannot
It has no home --
Nor we who having once inhaled it --
Thereafter roam.

--Emily Dickinson