A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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Exhilaration — is within –
There can no Outer Wine
So royally intoxicate
As that diviner Brand
The Soul achieves — Herself –
To drink — or set away
For Visitor — Or Sacrament –
‘Tis not of Holiday
To stimulate a Man
Who hath the Ample Rhine
Within his Closet — Best you can
Exhale in offering.
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‘Twas the old — road — through pain –
That unfrequented — one –
With many a turn — and thorn –
That stops — at Heaven –
This — was the Town — she passed –
There — where she — rested — last –
Then — stepped more fast –
The little tracks — close prest –
Then — not so swift –
Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow –
Then — stopped — no other track!
Wait! Look! Her little Book –
The leaf — at love — turned back –
Her very Hat –
And this worn shoe just fits the track –
Herself — though — fled!
Another bed — a short one –
Women make — tonight –
In Chambers bright –
Too out of sight — though –
For our hoarse Good Night –
To touch her Head!
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