Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1716 Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam, Seek it with the saw, Baffle, if it cost you Everything you are. Then, if it have burrowed Out of reach of skill— Wring the tree and leave it, 'Tis the vermin's will. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:46 PM | Viewed: 11195 times
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