Emily Dickinson

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake read more

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs,,
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, you're hurt exclaim.

How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!

How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!

The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,--
read more

The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,--
And that's the skies!

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large read more

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large as yours
But large enough for me.

Because I could not stop for death
He kindly stopped for me
The carriage held but just ourselves
And immortaility.

Because I could not stop for death
He kindly stopped for me
The carriage held but just ourselves
And immortaility.