
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There’s only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
One came the road I came —
And wore my last years gown –
The other, as a bird her nest,
Builded our hearts among.
She did not sing as we did –
It was a different tune –
Herself to her a music
As Bumble bee of June.
Today is far from childhood –
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter –
Which shortened all the miles –
And still her hum
The years among,
Deceives the Butterfly;
Still in her eye
The violets lie
Mouldered this many May.
-Emily Dickinson-
November 7, 2009 at 12:47 am
Everytime I read this poem… it pulls at my heartstrings… so beautiful.
November 9, 2009 at 11:36 am
one of the best, em