Get Your Premium Membership

Of nearness to her sundered Things

 Of nearness to her sundered Things
The Soul has special times --
When Dimness -- looks the Oddity --
Distinctness -- easy -- seems --

The Shapes we buried, dwell about,
Familiar, in the Rooms --
Untarnished by the Sepulchre,
The Mouldering Playmate comes --

In just the Jacket that he wore --
Long buttoned in the Mold
Since we -- old mornings, Children -- played --
Divided -- by a world --

The Grave yields back her Robberies --
The Years, our pilfered Things --
Bright Knots of Apparitions
Salute us, with their wings --

As we -- it were -- that perished --
Themself -- had just remained till we rejoin them --
And 'twas they, and not ourself
That mourned.

Poem by Emily Dickinson
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Of nearness to her sundered ThingsEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...



Summaries, Analysis, and Information on "Of nearness to her sundered Things"

Sorry, no articles found.

More Information

More Poems by Emily Dickinson


Book: Reflection on the Important Things