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ClassicsEmily Dickinson
948 ’Twas Crisis—All the length had passed— That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw The privilege to live Or warrant to report the Soul The other side the Grave. The Muscles grappled as with leads That would not let the Will— The Spirit shook the Adamant— But could not make it feel. The Second poised—debated—shot— Another had begun— And simultaneously, a Soul Escaped the House unseen—
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Twas Crisis—All the length had passed
948 ’Twas Crisis—All the length had passed— That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw The privilege to live Or warrant to report the Soul The other side the Grave. The Muscles grappled as with leads That would not let the Will— The Spirit shook the Adamant— But could not make it feel. The Second poised—debated—shot— Another had begun— And simultaneously, a Soul Escaped the House unseen—
Emily Dickinson
Classics
Emily Dickinson
1830 - 1886/Female/American