Emily Dickinson Poems

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I think the longest Hour of all
Is when the Cars have come --
And we are waiting for the Coach --
It seems as though the Time

Indignant -- that the Joy was come --
Did block the Gilded Hands --
And would not let the Seconds by --
But slowest instant -- ends --

The Pendulum begins to count --
Like little Scholars -- loud --
The steps grow thicker -- in the Hall --
The Heart begins to crowd --

Then I -- my timid service done --
Tho' service 'twas, of Love --
Take up my little Violin --
And further North -- remove.

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