Emily Dickinson Poem

Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!

0
Please log in or register to do it.

Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!

Why, God, would be content

With but a fraction of the Life—

Poured thee, without a stint—

The whole of me—forever—

What more the Woman can,

Say quick, that I may dower thee

With last Delight I own!

 

It cannot be my Spirit—

For that was thine, before—

I ceded all of Dust I knew—

What Opulence the more

Had I—a freckled Maiden,

Whose farthest of Degree,

Was—that she might—

Some distant Heaven,

Dwell timidly, with thee!

 

Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot!

Strain till your last Surmise—

Drop, like a Tapestry, away,

Before the Fire’s Eyes—

Winnow her finest fondness—

But hallow just the snow

Intact, in Everlasting flake—

Oh, Caviler, for you!

Drab Habitation of Whom?
Doom is the House without the Door

Reactions

0
0
0
0
0
0
Already reacted for this post.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

GIF