233

The Lamp burns sure-within-
Tho' Serfs-supply the Oil-
It matters not the busy Wick-
At her phosphoric toil!

The Slave-forgets-to fill-
The Lamp-burns golden-on-
Unconscious that the oil is out-
As that the Slave-is gone.

(C) Emily Dickinson
01/01/2000


Best Poems of Emily Dickinson

• Come Slowly
• A Bee His Burnished Carriage
• The Future-never Spoke
• A Bird Came Down The Walk
• A Clock Stopped
• Home
• It Struck Me Every Day
• A Diamond On The Hand
• There Came A Wind Like A Bugle
• I Died For Beauty
• A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
• I Reason, Earth Is Short
• I Have Never Seen
• A Great Hope Fell
• A Tongue-to Tell Him I Am True!
• This Is My Letter To The World,
• Dust Is The Only Secret
• A Man May Make A Remark
• A Letter Is A Joy Of Earth
• I Ment To Find Her When I Came;
• A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky