Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
276 Many a phrase has the English language— I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricket, Loud, as the Thunder's Tongue— Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs, When the Tide's a' lull— Saying itself in new infection— Like a Whippoorwill— Breaking in bright Orthography On my simple sleep— Thundering its Prospective— Till I stir, and weep— Not for the Sorrow, done me— But the push of Joy— Say it again, Saxton! Hush—Only to me!
Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 20 Nov 2008 5:29 PM | Viewed: 5106 times
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Emily Dickinson
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