large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb_5
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
XLII. Lay this laurel on the one Too intrinsic for renown. Laurel! veil your deathless tree,    Him you chasten, that is he! FORTY TWO LAY THIS LAUREL ON THE ONE TOO INTRINSIC FOR RENOWN LAUREL VEIL YOUR DEATHLESS TREE HIM YOU CHASTEN THAT IS HE
eat, an outgrown anguish, Remembered as the mile Our panting ankle barely gained When night devoured the road; But we stood whispering in the house, And all we said was "Saved"! XL. I think just how my shape will rise When I shall be forgiven, Till hair and eyes and timid head Are out of sight, in heaven. I think just how my lips will weigh With shapeless, quivering prayer That you, so late, consider me, The sparrow of your care. I mind me that of anguish sent, Some drifts were moved away Before my simple bosom broke, -- And why not this, if they? And so, until delirious borne I con that thing, -- "forgiven," -- Till with long fright and longer trust I drop my heart, unshriven! XLI. THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, -- Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged, Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone orthography Of the elder dead. Winds of summer fields Recollect the way, -- Instinct picking up the key Dropped by memory.  IS A SORT UNKNOWN ON THIS SUPERIOR SOIL DEFEAT AN OUTGROWN ANGUISH REMEMBERED AS THE MILE OUR PANTING ANKLE BARELY GAINED WHEN NIGHT DEVOURED THE ROAD BUT WE STOOD WHISPERING IN THE HOUSE AND ALL WE SAID WAS SAVED FORTY I THINK JUST HOW MY SHAPE WILL RISE WHEN I SHALL BE FORGIVEN TILL HAIR AND EYES AND TIMID HEAD ARE OUT OF SIGHT IN HEAVEN I THINK JUST HOW MY LIPS WILL WEIGH WITH SHAPELESS QUIVERING PRAYER THAT YOU SO LATE CONSIDER ME THE SPARROW OF YOUR CARE I MIND ME THAT OF ANGUISH SENT SOME DRIFTS WERE MOVED AWAY BEFORE MY SIMPLE BOSOM BROKE AND WHY NOT THIS IF THEY AND SO UNTIL DELIRIOUS BORN I CON THAT THING FORGIVEN TILL WITH LONG FRIGHT AND LONGER TRUST I DROP MY HEART UNSHRIVEN FORTY ONE THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE AFTER A HUNDRED YEARS NOBODY KNOWS THE PLACE AGONY THAT ENACTED THERE MOTIONLESS AS PEACE WEEDS TRIUMPHANT RANGED STRANGERS STROLLED AND SPELLED AT THE LONE ORTHOGRAPHY OF THE ELDER DEAD WINDS OF SUMMER FIELDS RECOLLECT THE WAY INSTINCT PICKING UP THE KEY DROPPED BY MEMORY
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