This was a Poet (448), di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

This was a Poet (448)

This was a Poet —It is That

Distills amazing sense

From ordinary Meanings —

And Attar so immense

From the familiar species

That perished by the Door —

We wonder it was not Ourselves

Arrested it —before —

Of Pictures, the Discloser —

The Poet —it is He —

Entitles Us —by Contrast —

To ceaseless Poverty —

Of portion —so unconscious —

The Robbing —could not harm —

Himself —to Him —a Fortune —

Exterior —to Time —

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—

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Remorse– Is Memory– Awake -

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75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn

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A Burdock—clawed my Gown—

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I Could Not Drink It, Sweet

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Emily Dickinson