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

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It was not Death, for I stood up

Emily Dickinson

510

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos—crawl—
Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool—

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some -

When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—

But, most, like Chaos - Stopless—cool—
Without a Change, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
To justify—Despair.

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 24 Jan 2018 12:52 AM | Viewed: 10673 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/6394/ | Viewed on 23 January 2018.
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