0
Why make it doubt—it hurts it so (462) - Emily Dickinson
0 0

Why make it doubt—it hurts it so (462) Emily Dickinson

Why make it doubt—it hurts it so (462) - Emily Dickinson
Why make it doubt—it hurts it so—
So sick—to guess—
So strong—to know—
So brave—upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself—and smile—And shake—
For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake—
But—the Instead—the Pinching fear
That Something—it did do—or dare—
Offend the Vision—and it flee—
And They no more remember me—
Nor ever turn to tell me why—
Oh, Master, This is Misery—
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Login Register
Log into your account
And gain new opportunities
Forgot your password?