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Again – his voice is at the door –
I feel the old Degree –
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one – as me –
I take a flower – as I go –
My face to justify –
He never saw me – in this life –
I might surprise his eye!
I cross the Hall with mingled steps –
I – silent – pass the door –
I look on all this world contains –
Just his face – nothing more!
We talk in careless-and it toss –
A kind of plummet strain –
Each – sounding – shyly –
Just – how – deep –
The other’s one – had been –
We walk – I leave my Dog – at home –
A tender – thoughtful Moon –
Goes with us – just a little way –
And – then – we are alone –
Alone – if Angels are “alone” –
First time they try the sky!
Alone – if those “veiled faces” – be –
We cannot count – on High!
I’d give – to live that hour – again –
The purple – in my Vein –
But He must count the drops – himself –
My price for every stain!
(Emily Dickinson)
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