1059
Sang from the Heart, Sire,
Dipped my Beak in it,
If the Tune drip too much
Have a tint too Red
Pardon the Cochineal-
Suffer the Vermillion-
Death is the Wealth
Of the Poorest Bird.
Bear with the Ballad-
Awkward-faltering-
Death twists the strings-
'Twasn't my blame-
Pause in your Liturgies-
Wait your Chorals-
While I repeat your
Hallowed name-
Sang From The Heart, Sire
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: ballad, heart, red, bird, wealth, wait, repeat, death, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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