Going to Him! Happy letter!
Going to Him! Happy letter!
Tell Him
Tell Him the page I didn't write
Tell Him I only said the Syntax
And left the Verb and the pronoun out
Tell Him just how the fingers hurried
Then how they waded slow slow
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages
So you could see what moved them so
Tell Him it wasn't a Practised Writer
You guessed from the way the sentence toiled
You could hear the Bodice tug, behind you
As if it held but the might of a child
You almost pitied it you it worked so
Tell Him no you may quibble there
For it would split His Heart, to know it
And then you and I, were silenter.
Tell Him Night finished before we finished
And the Old Clock kept neighing "Day"!
And you got sleepy and begged to be ended
What could it hinder so to say?
Tell Him just how she sealed you Cautious!
But if He ask where you are hid
Until tomorrow Happy letter!
Gesture Coquette and shake your Head!
Poems by Emily Dickinson
