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Emily Dickinson

’Tis One by One the Father Counts

545
 
’Tis One by One—the Father counts—
And then a Tract between
Set Cypherless—to teach the Eye
The Value of its Ten—
 
Until the peevish Student
Acquire the Quick of Skill—
Then Numerals are dowered back—
Adorning all the Rule—
 
’Tis mostly Slate and Pencil—
And Darkness on the School
Distracts the Children’s fingers—
Still the Eternal Rule
 
Regards least Cypherer alike
With Leader of the Band—
And every separate Urchin’s Sum—
Is fashioned for his hand—

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261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to cha… Passive—as Granite—laps My Music…
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It always felt to me—a wrong

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