POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
CIII
FROM all the jails the boys and girls
Ecstatically leap,—
Beloved, only afternoon
That prison does n’t keep.
Ecstatically leap,—
Beloved, only afternoon
That prison does n’t keep.
They storm the earth and stun the air,
A mob of solid bliss.
Alas! that frowns could lie in wait
For such a foe as this!
A mob of solid bliss.
Alas! that frowns could lie in wait
For such a foe as this!
CIV
FEW get enough,— enough is one;
To that ethereal throng
Have not each one of us the right
To stealthily belong?
To that ethereal throng
Have not each one of us the right
To stealthily belong?
CV
UPON the gallows hung a wretch,
Too sullied for the hell
To which the law entitled him.
As nature’s curtain fell
The one who bore him tottered in,
For this was woman’s son.
“’T was all I had,” she stricken gasped;
Oh, what a livid boon!
Too sullied for the hell
To which the law entitled him.
As nature’s curtain fell
The one who bore him tottered in,
For this was woman’s son.
“’T was all I had,” she stricken gasped;
Oh, what a livid boon!
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