December 2010
“Little girls, this seems to say
Never stop upon the way
Never trust a...”
Poems by Emily Dickinson (184 of 447)
dailylitemilydickinson:
XI. THE LOVERS. The rose did caper on her cheek, Her bodice rose and fell, Her pretty speech, like drunken men, Did stagger pitiful. Her fingers fumbled at her work, — Her needle would not go; What ailed so smart a little maid It puzzled me to know, Till opposite I spied a cheek That bore another rose; Just opposite, another speech That like the drunkard goes; A vest...
