Emily Dickinson

Twas Warm at First like Us

poem 519

‘Twas warm at first like Us Until there crept upon A Chill like frost upon a Glass Till all the scene be gone. The Forehead copied Stone The Fingers grew too cold To ache and like a Skater’s Brook The busy eyes congealed It straightened that was all It crowded Cold to Cold It multiplied indifference As Pride were all it could And even when with Cords ‘Twas lowered, like a Weight It made no Signal, nor demurred, But dropped like Adamant.

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