1722
Her face was in a bed of hair,
Like flowers in a plot-
Her hand was whiter than the sperm
That feeds the sacred light.
Her tongue more tender than the tune
That totters in the leaves-
Who hears may be incredulous,
Who witnesses, believes.
Her Face Was In A Bed Of Hair
Emily Dickinson
(2)
Poem topics: hair, light, tender, tongue, face, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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