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

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It ceased to hurt me, though so slow

Emily Dickinson

584

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go—
But only knew by looking back—
That something—had benumbed the Track—

Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock—
I hung upon the Peg, at night.

But not the Grief—that nestled close
As needles—ladies softly press
To Cushions Cheeks—
To keep their place—

Nor what consoled it, I could trace—
Except, whereas 'twas Wilderness—
It's better—almost Peace—

Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 21 Jan 2018 6:54 PM | Viewed: 6861 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/6748/ | Viewed on 21 January 2018.
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