Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breast For His Shy House— And baffles quest— Grief is a Thief—quick startled— Pricks His Ear—report to hear Of that Vast Dark— That swept His Being—back— Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play— Lest if He flinch—the eye that way Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three— Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury— Best Grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell— Burn Him in the Public Square— His Ashes—will Possibly—if they refuse—How then know— Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable—now.
Added: 30 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 16 Oct 2008 2:52 AM | Viewed: 5745 times
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Emily Dickinson
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