by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < The Spider
The stimulus, beyond the grave > > >
The Spirit
‘T is whiter than an Indian pipe,
‘T is dimmer than a lace;
No stature has it, like a fog,
When you approach the place.
Not any voice denotes it here,
Or intimates it there;
A spirit, how doth it accost?
What customs hath the air?
This limitless hyperbole
Each one of us shall be;
‘T is drama, if (hypothesis)
It be not tragedy!
< < < The Spider
The stimulus, beyond the grave > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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