TO pile like Thunder to its close
TO pile like Thunder to its close, / Then crumble grand away,
LOYALTY - Split the lark and you'll find the music
❦
Split the lark and you'll find the music,
Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled,
Scantily dealt to the summer morning,
Saved for your ear when lutes be old.
Loose the flood, you shall find it patent,
Gush after gush, reserved for you;
Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas,
Now, do you doubt that your bird was true?
More poems by Emily Dickinson
The last night that she lived
The last night that she lived, / It was a common night,
TOO LATE - Delayed till she had ceased to know
Delayed till she had ceased to know, / Delayed till in its vest of snow
MOTHER NATURE - Nature, the gentlest mother
Nature, the gentlest mother, / Impatient of no child,