Poor little heart!
Poor little heart! / Did they forget thee?
FORGOTTEN - There is a word
❦
There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man.
It hurls its barbed syllables,--
At once is mute again.
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted brother
Gave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun,
Wherever roams the day,
There is its noiseless onset,
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!
The most accomplished shot!
Time's sublimest target
Is a soul 'forgot'!
More poems by Emily Dickinson
I CAN'T tell you, but you feel it
I CAN'T tell you, but you feel it– / Nor can you tell me,
SIMPLICITY - How happy is the little stone
How happy is the little stone / That rambles in the road alone,
Death is a dialogue between
Death is a dialogue between / The spirit and the dust.