Emily Dickinson

Dec. 10, 1830 - May 15, 1886

 

A wounded deer leaps highest...

by Emily Dickinson

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,
The trampled steel that springs:
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!

Mirth is the mail of anguish,
In which it cautious arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And You're hurt exclaim!

Source:

Poems
Copyright 1890
Little, Brown, And Company, Boston
 
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