large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb_25
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
Some, too fragile for winter winds, The thoughtful grave encloses,    Tenderly tucking them in from frost Before their feet are cold. Never the treasures in her nest The cautious grave exposes, Building where schoolboy dare not look And sportsman is not bold. This covert have all the children Early aged, and often cold,    Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; Lambs for whom time had not a fold. SOME TOO FRAGILE FOR WINTER WINDS THE THOUGHTFUL GRAVE ENCLOSES TENDERLY TUCKING THEM IN FROM FROST BEFORE THEIR FEET ARE COLD NEVER THE TREASURES IN HER NEST THE CAUTIOUS GRAVE EXPOSES BUILDING WHERE SCHOOLBOY DARE NOT LOOK AND SPORTSMAN IS NOT BOLD THIS COVERT HAVE ALL THE CHILDREN EARLY AGED AND OFTEN COLD SPARROWS UNNOTICED BY THE FATHER LAMBS FOR WHOM TIME HAD NOT A FOLD
 So shy, so very ignorant, Should have the face to die. The hillsides must not know it, Where I have rambled so, Nor tell the loving forests The day that I shall go, Nor lisp it at the table, Nor heedless by the way Hint that within the riddle One will walk to-day! IX. THE BATTLE-FIELD. They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, -- No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face. X. The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin, -- so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the bird, But rapid, like the roe; His fashions quaint, mosaic, Or, haply, mistletoe. His conversation seldom, His laughter like the breeze That dies away in dimples Among the pensive trees. Our interview was transient,-- Of me, himself was shy; And God forbid I look behind Since that appalling day! XI. IN THE STREET FOR SHOPS WOULD STARE THAT I SO SHY SO VERY IGNORANT SHOULD HAVE THE FACE TO DIE THE HILLSIDES MUST NOT KNOW IT WHERE I HAVE RAMBLED SO NOR TELL THE LOVING FORESTS THE DAY THAT I SHALL GO NOR LISP IT AT TABLE NOR HEEDLESS BY THE WAY HINT THAT WITHIN THE RIDDLE ONE WILL WALK TO DAY NINE THE BATTLE FIELD THEY DROPPED LIKE FLAKES THEY DROPPED LIKE STARS LIKE PETALS FROM A ROSE WHEN SUDDENLY ACROSS THE JUNE A WIND WITH FINGERS GOES THEY PERISHED IN THE SEAMLESS GRASS NO EYE COULD FIND THE PLACE BUT GOD ON HIS REPEALLESS LIST CAN SUMMON EVERY FACE TEN THE ONLY GHOST I EVER SAW WAS DRESSED IN MECHLIN SO HE WORE NO SANDAL ON HIS FOOT AND STEPPED LIKE FLAKES OF SNOW HIS GAIT WAS SOUNDLESS LIKE THE BIRD BUT RAPID LIKE THE ROE HIS FASHIONS QUAINT MOSAIC OR HAPLY MISTLETOE HIS CONVERSATION SELDOM HIS LAUGHTER LIKE THE BREEZE THAT DIES AWAY IN DIMPLES AMONG THE PENSIVE TREES OUR INTERVIEW WAS TRANSIENT OF ME HIMSELF WAS SHY AND GOD FORBID I LOOK BEHIND SINCE THAT APPALLING DAY ELEVEN
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