Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1482 'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe— 'Tis dimmer than a Lace— No stature has it, like a Fog When you approach the place— Nor any voice imply it here Or intimate it there A spirit—how doth it accost— What function hat the Air? This limitless Hyperbole Each one of us shall be— 'Tis Drama—if Hypothesis It be not Tragedy— Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2017 6:11 AM | Viewed: 12184 times
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