Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

Grief Is A Mouse - Poem by Emily Dickinson


Grief is a Mouse—
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House—
And baffles quest—

Grief is a Thief—quick startled—
Pricks His Ear—report to hear
Of that Vast Dark—
That swept His Being—back—

Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play—
Lest if He flinch—the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three—
Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury—

Best Grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell—
Burn Him in the Public Square—
His Ashes—will
Possibly—if they refuse—How then know—
Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable—now.

Comments about Grief Is A Mouse by Emily Dickinson

  • Gold Star - 36,824 Points * Sunprincess * (11/19/2015 10:31:00 AM)

    ......very nicely penned with excellent metaphors ★ (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: grief, house, dark

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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