English poetry

Poems in English


It ceased to hurt me, though so slow

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go
But only knew by looking back
That something had benumbed the Track

Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock
I hung upon the Peg, at night.

But not the Grief that nestled close
As needles ladies softly press
To Cushions Cheeks
To keep their place

Nor what consoled it, I could trace
Except, whereas ’twas Wilderness
It’s better almost Peace


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Poem It ceased to hurt me, though so slow - Emily Dickinson