I can wade Grief — Whole Pools of it — I'm used to that — But the least push of Joy
Breaks up my feet — And I tip — drunken — Let no Pebble — smile —… - Emily Dickinson
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I can wade Grief — Whole Pools of it — I'm used to that — But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet — And I tip — drunken — Let no Pebble — smile — 'Twas the New Liquor — That was all!
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Virtually unknown in her lifetime, Dickinson has come to be regarded as one of the greatest American poets of the 19th century. Although she wrote (at latest count) 1789 poems, only a few of them were published in her lifetime, all anonymously, and some perhaps without her knowledge.
What inn is this Where for the night Peculiar traveller comes? Who is the landlord? Where are the maids? Behold, what curious rooms! No ruddy fires on the hearth, No brimming tankards flow. Necromancer, landlord, Who are these below?
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