At leisure is the Soul
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
At leisure is the Soul
That gets a Staggering Blow —
The Width of Life — before it spreads
Without a thing to do —
It begs you give it Work —
But just the placing Pins —
Or humblest Patchwork — Children do —
To Help its Vacant Hands —
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
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There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
-
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
-
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
All poems by Emily Dickinson →