She's happy, with a new Content -
That feels to her - like Sacrament -
She's busy - with an altered Care -
As just apprenticed to the Air -
She's tearful - if she weep at all -
For blissful Causes - Most of all
That Heaven permit so meek as her -
To such a Fate - to Minister.
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...