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514 Her smile was shaped like other smiles— The Dimples ran along— And still it hurt you, as some Bird Did hoist herself, to sing, Then recollect a Ball, she got— And hold upon the Twig, Convulsive, while the Music broke— Like Beads—among the Bog—
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Her smile was shaped like other smiles
514 Her smile was shaped like other smiles— The Dimples ran along— And still it hurt you, as some Bird Did hoist herself, to sing, Then recollect a Ball, she got— And hold upon the Twig, Convulsive, while the Music broke— Like Beads—among the Bog—
Emily Dickinson
1830 - 1886/Female/American