...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Emily Dickinson


Death sets a Thing significant
The Eye had hurried by
Except a perished Creature
Entreat us tenderly

To ponder little Workmanships
In Crayon, or in Wool,
With "This was last Her fingers did"--
Industrious until--

The Thimble weighed too heavy--
The stitches stopped--themselves--
And then 'twas put among the Dust
Upon the Closet shelves--

A Book I have--a friend gave--
Whose Pencil--here and there--
Had notched the place that pleased Him--
At Rest--His fingers are--

Now--when I read--I read not--
For interrupting Tears--
Obliterate the Etchings
Too Costly for Repairs.

[for L.B.]

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