Bound&Mdash;A Trouble

269

Bound—a trouble—
And lives can bear it!
Limit—how deep a bleeding go!
So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!

Tell it the Ages—to a cypher—
And it will ache—contented—on—
Sing—at its pain—as any Workman—
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (1)

Such a majestic poem. It makes me want to go paint a picture of mountains!