by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < This is my letter to the world
This was in the white of the year > > >
This merit hath the worst
This merit hath the worst, —
It cannot be again.
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown her furthest stone,
The maimed may pause and breathe,
And glance securely round.
The deer invites no longer
Than it eludes the hound.
< < < This is my letter to the world
This was in the white of the year > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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