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1046 I've dropped my Brain—My Soul is numb— The Veins that used to run Stop palsied—'tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies— A Breathing Woman Yesterday—Endowed with Paradise. Not dumb—I had a sort that moved— A Sense that smote and stirred— Instincts for Dance—a caper part— An Aptitude for Bird— Who wrought Carrara in me And chiselled all my tune Were it a Witchcraft—were it Death— I've still a chance to strain To Being, somewhere—Motion—Breath— Though Centuries beyond, And every limit a Decade— I'll shiver, satisfied. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:32 PM | Viewed: 8297 times
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Emily Dickinson
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