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