Sunday, April 3, 2011


395 c.1862

There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain-
‘Tis pain’s successor – When the Soul
Has suffered all it can –

A Drowsiness – diffuses –
A dimness like a Fog
Envelopes Consciousness –
As Mists – obliterate a Crag.

The Surgeon – does not blanch – at pain –
His Habit – is severe –
But tell him that it ceased to feel –
The Creature lying there –

And he will tell you – skill is late –
A Mightier than He –
Has ministered before Him –
There’s no Vitality.
[p. 188]

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson edt. by Thomas H. Johnson.

O Lord, the God of my salvation,
I have cried out by day and in the night before Thee.
Let my prayer come before Thee;
Incline Thine ear to my cry!
For my soul has had enough troubles,
And my life has drawn near to Sheol.
Psalm 88:1-3

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