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Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.

514

Her smile was shaped like other smiles—
The Dimples ran along—
And still it hurt you, as some Bird
Did hoist herself, to sing,
Then recollect a Ball, she got—
And hold upon the Twig,
Convulsive, while the Music broke—
Like Beads—among the Bog—

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 29 Aug 2008 4:42 AM | Viewed: 5451 times

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