Emily Dickenson - # 271
A solemn thing – it was – I said –
A woman – white – to be –
And wear – if God should count me fit –
Her blameless mystery –
A hallowed thing – to drop a life
Into the purple well –
Too plummetless – that it return –
Eternity – until –
I pondered how the bliss would look –
And would it feel as big –
When I could take it in my hand –
As hovering – seen – through fog –
And then – the size of this “small” life –
The Sages – call it small –
Swelled – like Horizons – in my vest –
And I sneered – softly – “small”!
A woman – white – to be –
And wear – if God should count me fit –
Her blameless mystery –
A hallowed thing – to drop a life
Into the purple well –
Too plummetless – that it return –
Eternity – until –
I pondered how the bliss would look –
And would it feel as big –
When I could take it in my hand –
As hovering – seen – through fog –
And then – the size of this “small” life –
The Sages – call it small –
Swelled – like Horizons – in my vest –
And I sneered – softly – “small”!
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