Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

Unto my books so good to turn
Far ends of tired days;
It half endears the abstinence,
And pain is missed in praise.

As flavors cheer retarded guests
With banquetings to be,
So spices stimulate the time
Till my small library.

It may be wilderness without,
Far feet of failing men,
But holiday excludes the night,
And it is bells within.

I thank these kinsmen of the shelf;
Their countenances bland
Enamour in prospective,
And satisfy, obtained.

1. If I Should Die
2. Saved!
3. A Syllable
4. Two Swimmers Wrestled on the Spar
5. He Put the Belt around My Life

Print

1621 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version