Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?
I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my Boot —
For yet to buy another Pair
Is possible,
At any store —
But Bliss, is sold just once.
The Patent lost
None buy it any more —
Say, Foot, decide the point —
The Lady cross, or not?
Verdict for Boot!
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— …
-
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 →