Not all die early, dying young —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
Not all die early, dying young —
Maturity of Fate
Is consummated equally
In Ages, or a Night —
A Hoary Boy, I've known to drop
Whole statured — by the side
Of Junior of Fourscore — 'twas Act
Not Period — that died.
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 →