Emily Dickinson Poem

Going to Him! Happy letter!

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Going to Him! Happy letter!

Tell Him—

Tell Him the page I didn’t write—

Tell Him—I only said the Syntax—

And left the Verb and the pronoun out—

Tell Him just how the fingers hurried—

Then—how they waded—slow—slow—

And then you wished you had eyes in your pages—

So you could see what moved them so—


Tell Him—it wasn’t a Practised Writer—

You guessed—from the way the sentence toiled—

You could hear the Bodice tug, behind you—

As if it held but the might of a child—

You almost pitied it—you—it worked so—

Tell Him—no—you may quibble there—

For it would split His Heart, to know it—

And then you and I, were silenter.


Tell Him—Night finished—before we finished—

And the Old Clock kept neighing “Day”!

And you—got sleepy—and begged to be ended—

What could it hinder so—to say?

Tell Him—just how she sealed you—Cautious!

But—if He ask where you are hid

Until tomorrow—Happy letter!

Gesture Coquette—and shake your Head!

Good Morning—Midnight
Going to Heaven!


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