Emily Dickinson

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

I Cautious, Scanned My Little Life - Poem by Emily Dickinson

178

I cautious, scanned my little life—
I winnowed what would fade
From what would last till Heads like mine
Should be a-dreaming laid.

I put the latter in a Barn—
The former, blew away.
I went one winter morning
And lo - my priceless Hay

Was not upon the "Scaffold"—
Was not upon the "Beam"—
And from a thriving Farmer—
A Cynic, I became.

Whether a Thief did it—
Whether it was the wind—
Whether Deity's guiltless—
My business is, to find!

So I begin to ransack!
How is it Hearts, with Thee?
Art thou within the little Barn
Love provided Thee?


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Read poems about / on: winter, wind, life, dream



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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