Emily Dickinson

It Would Never Be Common more i Said

poem 430

It would never be Common more I said Difference had begun Many a bitterness had been But that old sort was done Or if it sometime showed as ’twill Upon the Downiest Morn Such bliss had I for all the years ‘Twould give an Easier pain I’d so much joy I told it Red Upon my simple Cheek I felt it publish in my Eye ‘Twas needless any speak I walked as wings my body bore The feet I former used Unnecessary now to me As boots would be to Birds I put my pleasure all abroad I dealth a word of Gold To every Creature that I met And Dowered all the World When suddenly my Riches shrank A Goblin drank my Dew My Palaces dropped tenantless Myself was beggared too I clutched at sounds I groped at shapes I touched the tops of Films I felt the Wilderness roll back Along my Golden lines The Sackcloth hangs upon the nail The Frock I used to wear But where my moment of Brocade My drop of India?

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