Emily Dickinson

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

Severer Service Of Myself - Poem by Emily Dickinson

786

Severer Service of myself
I—hastened to demand
To fill the awful Vacuum
Your life had left behind—

I worried Nature with my Wheels
When Hers had ceased to run—
When she had put away Her Work
My own had just begun.

I strove to weary Brain and Bone—
To harass to fatigue
The glittering Retinue of nerves—
Vitality to clog

To some dull comfort Those obtain
Who put a Head away
They knew the Hair to—
And forget the color of the Day—

Affliction would not be appeased—
The Darkness braced as firm
As all my stratagem had been
The Midnight to confirm—

No Drug for Consciousness—can be—
Alternative to die
Is Nature's only Pharmacy
For Being's Malady—


Comments about Severer Service Of Myself by Emily Dickinson

  • Rookie - 178 Points Brian Jani (4/29/2014 3:14:00 AM)

    This is a great poem (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: nature, work, hair, life, running



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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