English poetry

Poems in English

I measure every Grief I meet

I measure every Grief I meet

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes
I wonder if It weighs like Mine
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long
Or did it just begin
I could not tell the Date of Mine
It feels so old a pain

I wonder if it hurts to live
And if They have to try
And whether could They choose between
It would not be to die

I note that Some gone patient long
At length, renew their smile
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil

I wonder if when Years have piled
Some Thousands on the Harm
That hurt them early such a lapse
Could give them any Balm

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love

The Grieved are many I am told
There is the various Cause
Death is but one and comes but once
And only nails the eyes

There’s Grief of Want and Grief of Cold
A sort they call “Despair”
There’s Banishment from native Eyes
In sight of Native Air

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary

To note the fashions of the Cross
And how they’re mostly worn
Still fascinated to presume
That Some are like My Own



Poem I measure every Grief I meet - Emily Dickinson