by Emily Dickinson
276
Many a phrase has the English language-
I have heard but one-
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud, as the Thunder's Tongue-
Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,
When the Tide's a' lull-
Saying itself in new infection-
Like a Whippoorwill-
Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep-
Thundering its Prospective-
Till I stir, and weep-
Not for the Sorrow, done me-
But the push of Joy-
Say it again, Saxton!
Hush-Only to me!
Last updated June 21, 2015