English poetry

Poems in English

The Frost of Death was on the Pane

The Frost of Death was on the Pane

The Frost of Death was on the Pane
“Secure your Flower” said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality.

Our passive Flower we held to Sea
To Mountain To the Sun
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun

We pried him back
Ourselves we wedged
Himself and her between,
Yet easy as the narrow Snake
He forked his way along

Till all her helpless beauty bent
And then our wrath begun
We hunted him to his Ravine
We chased him to his Den

We hated Death and hated Life
And nowhere was to go
Than Sea and continent there is
A larger it is Woe



Poem The Frost of Death was on the Pane - Emily Dickinson