Morns like these—we parted—, par Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Morns like these—we parted—

Noons like these—she rose—

Fluttering first—then firmer

To her fair repose.

Never did she lisp it—

It was not for me—

She—was mute from transport—

I—from agony—

Till—the evening nearing

One the curtains drew—

Quick! A Sharper rustling!

And this linnet flew!

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Emily Dickinson

Morns like these—we parted—

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