Poems by Emily Dickinson
It came at last but prompter Death
... And his metallic Peace --Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date ...
It came his turn to beg --
... 'Tis Penury in Chief --I scanned his narrow realm ...
It can't be "Summer"!
... There's that long town of White -- to cross -- ...
It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
... That something -- had benumbed the Track --Nor when it altered, I could say, ...
It dropped so low -- in my Regard --
... At bottom of my Mind --Yet blamed the Fate that flung it -- less ...
It is a lonesome Glee --
... Afar upon the WindA Bird to overhear ...
It is an honorable Thought
... Upon a daily StreetThat We've immortal Place ...
It knew no Medicine --
... And therefore -- 'twas not Pain --It moved away the Cheeks -- ...
It makes no difference abroad --
... And split their Pods of Flame --Wild flowers -- kindle in the Woods -- ...
It rises -- passes -- on our South
... It rises -- passes -- on our South ...
It sounded as if the Streets were running
... By and by -- the boldest stole out of his Covert ...
It stole along so stealthy
... It stole along so stealthy ...
It struck me -- every Day
... With every Morn that came --I though that Storm -- was brief -- ...
It tossed -- and tossed --
... And groped delirious, for Morn --It slipped -- and slipped -- ...
It troubled me as once I was --
... And yet the Heavens -- held --The Heavens weighed the most -- by far -- ...
