Emily Dickinson

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

It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play - Poem by Emily Dickinson

244

It is easy to work when the soul is at play—
But when the soul is in pain—
The hearing him put his playthings up
Makes work difficult—then—

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind—
But Gimlets—among the nerve—
Mangle daintier—terribler—
Like a Panter in the Glove—


Comments about It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play by Emily Dickinson

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: work, pain



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



[Report Error]