There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain -
'Tis Pain's Successor - When the Soul
Has suffered all it can -
A Drowsiness - diffuses -
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness -
As Mists - obliterate a Crag.
The Surgeon - does not blanch - at pain
His Habit - is severe -
But tell him that it ceased to feel -
The Creature lying there -
And he will tell you - skill is late -
A Mightier than He -
Has ministered before Him -
There's no Vitality.
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...