It was not Death, for I stood up

Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson portrait

1830 to 1886

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Track 1

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Or even a Report of Land —
And could not breathe without a key,
And all the Dead, lie down —
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
Repeal the Beating Ground —
And ’twas like Midnight, some —
Or Grisly frosts — first Autumn morns,
Set orderly, for Burial
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
When everything that ticked — has stopped —
And fitted to a frame,
The Figures I have seen
And space stares — all around —
Reminded me, of mine —
It was not death, for I stood up,
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
Nor Fire — for just my marble feet
But most, like Chaos — Stopless — cool —
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
To justify — Despair.
Without a Chance, or spar —
Could keep a Chancel, cool —
As if my life were shaven,
It was not Night, for all the Bells

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