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

244

It is easy to work when the soul is at play—
But when the soul is in pain—
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult—then—

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind—
But Gimlets—among the nerve—
Mangle daintier—terribler—
Like a Panter in the Glove—

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Sep 2008 9:33 AM | Viewed: 4956 times

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