Emily Dickinson Poem

Fitter to see Him, I may be

Please log in or register to do it.

Fitter to see Him, I may be

For the long Hindrance—Grace—to Me—

With Summers, and with Winters, grow,

Some passing Year—A trait bestow


To make Me fairest of the Earth—

The Waiting—then—will seem so worth

I shall impute with half a pain

The blame that I was chosen—then—


Time to anticipate His Gaze—

It’s first—Delight—and then—Surprise—

The turning o’er and o’er my face

For Evidence it be the Grace—


He left behind One Day—So less

He seek Conviction, That—be This—


I only must not grow so new

That He’ll mistake—and ask for me

Of me—when first unto the Door

I go—to Elsewhere go no more—


I only must not change so fair

He’ll sigh—”The Other—She—is Where?”

The Love, tho’, will array me right

I shall be perfect—in His sight—


If He perceive the other Truth—

Upon an Excellenter Youth—


How sweet I shall not lack in Vain—

But gain—thro’ loss—Through Grief—obtain—

The Beauty that reward Him best—

The Beauty of Demand—at Rest—

Flowers—Well—if anybody
First Robin


Already reacted for this post.

Your email address will not be published.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