Emily Dickinson Poems

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I got so I could take his name --
Without -- Tremendous gain --
That Stop-sensation -- on my Soul --
And Thunder -- in the Room --

I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned -- how --
And all our Sinew tore --

I got so I could stir the Box --
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath --
As Staples -- driven through --

Could dimly recollect a Grace --
I think, they call it "God" --
Renowned to ease Extremity --
When Formula, had failed --

And shape my Hands --
Petition's way,
Tho' ignorant of a word
That Ordination -- utters --

My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair --
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery --
Itself, too vast, for interrupting -- more --

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