Emily Dickinson

Dust Is The Only Secret

poem 153

Dust is the only Secret Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his native town. Nobody know his Father Never was a Boy Hadn’t any playmates, Or Early history Industrious! Laconic! Punctual! Sedate! Bold as a Brigand! Stiller than a Fleet! Builds, like a Bird, too! Christ robs the Nest Robin after Robin Smuggled to Rest!

Don't have an account?

You will be identified by the alias - name will be hidden