Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life
LXXIX
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| I YEARS had been from home, | |
| And now, before the door, | |
| I dared not open, lest a face | |
| I never saw before | |
| |
| Stare vacant into mine | 5 |
| And ask my business there. | |
| My business,—just a life I left, | |
| Was such still dwelling there? | |
| |
| I fumbled at my nerve, | |
| I scanned the windows near; | 10 |
| The silence like an ocean rolled, | |
| And broke against my ear. | |
| |
| I laughed a wooden laugh | |
| That I could fear a door, | |
| Who danger and the dead had faced, | 15 |
| But never quaked before. | |
| |
| I fitted to the latch | |
| My hand, with trembling care, | |
| Lest back the awful door should spring, | |
| And leave me standing there. | 20 |
| |
| I moved my fingers off | |
| As cautiously as glass, | |
| And held my ears, and like a thief | |
| Fled gasping from the house. | |
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