by Emily Dickinson
269
Bound - a trouble -
And lives can bear it!
Limit - how deep a bleeding go!
So - many - drops - of vital scarlet -
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!
Tell it the Ages - to a cypher -
And it will ache - contented - on -
Sing - at its pain - as any Workman -
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!
- Share this Poem:
Last updated June 21, 2015