Morns like these — we parted —
Noons like these — she rose —
Fluttering first — then firmer
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it —
It was not for me —
She — was mute from transport —
I — from agony —
Till — the evening nearing
One the curtains drew —
Quick! A Sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
(Emily Dickinson)
More Poetry from Emily Dickinson:
- Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Sic transit gloria mundi (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- I cannot live with You (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- The Wind begun to knead the Grass (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- One Year ago-jots what? (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Your Riches - taugh (Emily Dickinson Poems)