Emily Dickinson

I Have Never Seen Volcanoes

poem 175

I have never seen Volcanoes But, when Travellers tell How those old phlegmatic mountains Usually so still Bear within appalling Ordnance, Fire, and smoke, and gun, Taking Villages for breakfast, And appalling Men If the stillness is Volcanic In the human face When upon a pain Titanic Features keep their place If at length the smouldering anguish Will not overcome And the palpitating Vineyard In the dust, be thrown? If some loving Antiquary, On Resumption Morn, Will not cry with joy Pompeii! To the Hills return!

Don't have an account?

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