Emily Dickinson Poems

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The Rose did caper on her cheek --
Her Bodice rose and fell --
Her pretty speech -- like drunken men --
Did stagger pitiful --

Her fingers fumbled at her work --
Her needle would not go --
What ailed so smart a little Maid --
It puzzled me to know --

Till opposite -- I spied a cheek
That bore another Rose --
Just opposite -- Another speech
That like the Drunkard goes --

A Vest that like her Bodice, danced --
To the immortal tune --
Till those two troubled -- little Clocks
Ticked softly into one.

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