Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Three: Love
XXIV
|
| THE WAY I read a letter’s this: | |
| ’T is first I lock the door, | |
| And push it with my fingers next, | |
| For transport it be sure. | |
| |
| And then I go the furthest off | 5 |
| To counteract a knock; | |
| Then draw my little letter forth | |
| And softly pick its lock. | |
| |
| Then, glancing narrow at the wall, | |
| And narrow at the floor, | 10 |
| For firm conviction of a mouse | |
| Not exorcised before, | |
| |
| Peruse how infinite I am | |
| To—no one that you know! | |
| And sigh for lack of heaven,—but not | 15 |
| The heaven the creeds bestow. | |
|
|
