Emily Dickinson Poems

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It knew no Medicine --
It was not Sickness -- then --
Nor any need of Surgery --
And therefore -- 'twas not Pain --

It moved away the Cheeks --
A Dimple at a time --
And left the Profile -- plainer --
And in the place of Bloom

It left the little Tint
That never had a Name --
You've seen it on a Cast's face --
Was Paradise -- to blame --

If momently ajar --
Temerity -- drew near --
And sickened -- ever afterward
For Somewhat that it saw?

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