Emily Dickinson

My First Well Day since Many Ill

poem 574

My first well Day since many ill I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands, And see the things in Pod A ‘blossom just when I went in To take my Chance with pain Uncertain if myself, or He, Should prove the strongest One. The Summer deepened, while we strove She put some flowers away And Redder cheeked Ones in their stead A fond illusive way To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried As if before a child To fade Tomorrow Rainbows held The Sepulchre, could hide. She dealt a fashion to the Nut She tied the Hoods to Seeds She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about And left Brazilian Threads On every shoulder that she met Then both her Hands of Haze Put up to hide her parting Grace From our unfitted eyes. My loss, by sickness Was it Loss? Or that Ethereal Gain One earns by measuring the Grave Then measuring the Sun

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