Emily Dickinson Poems >>
It don't sound so terrible-qui

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It don't sound so terrible-quite-as it did-
I run it over-"Dead", Brain, "Dead."
Put it in Latin-left of my school-
Seems it don't shriek so-under rule.

Turn it, a little-full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest-
Shift it-just-
Say "When Tomorrow comes this way-
I shall have waded down one Day."

I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed-but then the Tomb
Like other new Things-shows largest-then-
And smaller, by Habit-

It's shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance-a Year-
How like "a fit"-then-
Murder-wear!