Don’t Think I Do Not Grieve
;Don’t think I do not feel
.Because you see no tears
A river rages deep inside
.Of grief, and loss, and fears
,Just because I do not cry now
.Don’t think my heart’s not broken
I keep inside the misery
.Of words not to be spoken
,Sometimes I smile, or crack a joke
;So you won’t see the pain
,Or notice how my hands will shake
.Or how I’ve gone insane
,Each time I chance to think of her
.My heart is ripped asunder
;The loss I feel is mine alone
.You will not see my thunder
by Brenda Penepent
Because I could Not stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me,
The Carriage held but just Ourselves,
And Immortality.
We slowly drove_ He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility,
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess_ in the ring,
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain,
We passed the Setting Sun,
Or rather _ He passed us ,
The Dews drew quivering and chill,
For only Gossamer, my Gown,
My Tippet_ only Tulle,
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground,
The Roof was scarcely visible,
The Cornice_ in the Ground,
Since then _ tis Centuries_ and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horse s Heads
Were toward Eternity.
Emily Dickinson (1830_1886
People Are Strange-The Doors
People are strange when youre a stranger
Faces look ugly when youre alone
Women seem wicked when youre unwanted
Streets are uneven when youre down
When youre strange
Faces come out of the rain
When youre strange
No one remembers your name
When youre strange
People are strange when youre a stranger
Faces look ugly when youre alone
Women seem wicked when youre unwanted
Streets are uneven when youre down
When youre strange
Faces come out of the rain
When youre strange
No one remembers your name
When youre strange
When youre strange
Faces come out of the rain
When youre strange
No one remembers your name
When youre strange