My Soul — accused me — And I quailed —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
My Soul — accused me — And I quailed —
As Tongue of Diamond had reviled
All else accused me — and I smiled —
My Soul — that Morning — was My friend —
Her favor — is the best Disdain
Toward Artifice of Time — or Men —
But Her Disdain — 'twere lighter bear
A finger of Enamelled Fire —
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 →