Poem

How many times these low feet staggered

Emily Dickinson
187 How many times these low feet staggered— Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of steel! Stroke the cool forehead—hot so often— Lift—if you care—the listless hair— Handle the adamantine fingers Never a thimble—more—shall wear— Buzz the dull flies—on the chamber window— Brave—shines the sun through the freckled pane— Fearless—the cobweb swings from the ceiling— Indolent Housewife—in Daisies—lain!

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