Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain— It moved away the Cheeks— A Dimple at a time— And left the Profile—plainer— And in the place of Bloom It left the little Tint That never had a Name— You've seen it on a Cast's face— Was Paradise—to blame— If momently ajar— Temerity—drew near— And sickened—ever afterward For Somewhat that it saw?
Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 12:39 PM | Viewed: 5064 times
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Emily Dickinson
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