Emily Dickinson Poem

Ah, Teneriffe!

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Ah, Teneriffe!

Retreating Mountain!

Purples of Ages—pause for you—

Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—

Day—drops you her Red Adieu!

 

Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—

Thigh of Granite—and thew—of Steel—

Heedless—alike—of pomp—or parting

 

Ah, Teneriffe!

I’m kneeling—still—

All but Death, can be Adjusted
Ah, Necromancy Sweet!

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