Emily Dickinson

I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life

poem 178

I cautious, scanned my little life I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads like mine Should be a-dreaming laid. I put the latter in a Barn The former, blew away. I went one winter morning And lo – my priceless Hay Was not upon the Scaffold Was not upon the Beam And from a thriving Farmer A Cynic, I became. Whether a Thief did it Whether it was the wind Whether Deity’s guiltless My business is, to find! So I begin to ransack! How is it Hearts, with Thee? Art thou within the little Barn Love provided Thee?

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