Emily Dickinson Poems

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There's something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast --
And will not tell its name.

Some touch it, and some kiss it --
Some chafe its idle hand --
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!

I would not weep if I were they --
How rude in one to sob!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!

While simple-hearted neighbors
Chat of the "Early dead" --
We -- prone to periphrasis
Remark that Birds have fled!

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