EMILY DICKINSON




- That after Horror - that 'twas us
-That passed the mouldering Pier
- Just as the Granit Crumb let go
- Our Savior , by a Hair





















A second more, had dropped too deep
- For Fisherman to plumb
The very profile of the Thought
-Puts Recollection numb

























The possibility - to pass
- Without a Moment's bell
- Into Conjecture's presence
- Is like a Face of steel
That suddenly looks into ours
-With a metallic grin
The Cordiality of Death
- Who drills his Welcome in