I think just how my shape will rise -
When I shall be "forgiven" -
Till Hair - and Eyes - and timid Head -
Are out of sight - in Heaven -
I think just how my lips will weigh -
With shapeless - quivering - prayer -
That you - so late - "Consider" me -
The "Sparrow" of your Care -
I mind me that of Anguish - sent -
Some drifts were moved away -
Before my simple bosom - broke -
And why not this - if they?
And so I con that thing - "forgiven" -
Until - delirious - borne -
By my long bright - and longer - trust -
I drop my Heart - unshriven!
Emily Dickinson
Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New life"...
No Notice gave She, but a Change -
No Message, but a Sigh -
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill -
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And p...