Why make it doubt-it hurts it so

by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson


Why make it doubt-it hurts it so-
So sick-to guess-
So strong-to know-
So brave-upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself-and smile-And shake-
For that dear-distant-dangerous-Sake-
But-the Instead-the Pinching fear
That Something-it did do-or dare-
Offend the Vision-and it flee-
And They no more remember me-
Nor ever turn to tell me why-
Oh, Master, This is Misery-

Last updated June 21, 2015