957
As One does Sickness over
In convalescent Mind,
His scrutiny of Chances
By blessed Health obscured—
As One rewalks a Precipice
And whittles at the Twig
That held Him from Perdition
Sown sidewise in the Crag
A Custom of the Soul
Far after suffering
Identity to question
For evidence't has been—
Back to Emily Dickinson
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Hmm, not really my cup of tea, this poem kind of went over my head. I guess I just didn't really connect with it that much, but hey, to each their own right? We can't all have the same taste in poetry.