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Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life VIII |
| A WOUNDED deer leaps highest, | |
| I ’ve heard the hunter tell; | |
| ’T is but the ecstasy of death, | |
| And then the brake is still. | |
| The smitten rock that gushes, | 5 |
| The trampled steel that springs: | |
| A cheek is always redder | |
| Just where the hectic stings! | |
| Mirth is the mail of anguish, | |
| In which it caution arm, | 10 |
| Lest anybody spy the blood | |
| And “You ’re hurt” exclaim! |
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