'T is whiter than an Indian pipe,
'T is dimmer than a lace;
No stature has it, like a fog,
When you approach the place.
Not any voice denotes it here,
Or intimates it there;
A spirit, how doth it accost?
What customs hath the air?
This limitless hyperbole
Each one of us shall be;
'T is drama, if (hypothesis)
It be not tragedy!
The Spirit
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: fog, voice, place, spirit, drama, tragedy, indian, approach, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Spirit poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Best Poems of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson