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Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


* * *


I know that He exists.
Somewhere -- in Silence --
He has hid his rare life
From our gross eyes.

'Tis an instant's play.
'Tis a fond Ambush --
Just to make Bliss
Earn her own surprise!

But -- should the play
Prove piercing earnest --
Should the glee -- glaze --
In Death's -- stiff -- stare --

Would not the fun
Look too expensive!
Would not the jest --
Have crawled too far!



Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
  1. Belshazzar Had a Letter
  2. Psalm of the Day
  3. Our Share of Night to Bear
  4. Renunciation
  5. The Wife


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