Emily Dickinson

Where Bells No More Affright The Morn

poem 112

Where bells no more affright the morn Where scrabble never comes Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to keep their rooms Where tired Children placid sleep Thro’ Centuries of noon This place is Bliss this town is Heaven Please, Pater, pretty soon! Oh could we climb where Moses stood, And view the Landscape o’er Not Father’s bells nor Factories, Could scare us any more!

Don't have an account?

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