Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.
Part Five: The Single HoundLXXXVII
H
Poets ended,
Silver perished with her tongue,
Not on record bubbled other
Flute, or Woman, so divine;
Robin uttered half the tune—
Gushed too free for the adoring,
From the Anglo-Florentine.
Late the praise—
’T is dull conferring
On a Head too high to crown,
Diadem or Ducal showing,
Be its Grave sufficient sign.
Yet if we, no Poet’s Kinsman,
Suffocate with easy woe,
What and if ourself a Bridegroom,
Put Her down, in Italy?