Emily Dickinson

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

The Fingers Of The Light - Poem by Emily Dickinson

1000

The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."

"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep—
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."

The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man

The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.


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Read poems about / on: light



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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