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Emily Dickinson - My first well Day — since many ill
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My first well Day — since many ill —
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod —

A `blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain —
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.

The Summer deepened, while we strove —
She put some flowers away —
And Redder cheeked Ones — in their stead —
A fond — illusive way —

To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried —
As if before a child
To fade — Tomorrow — Rainbows held
The Sepulchre, could hide.

She dealt a fashion to the Nut —
She tied the Hoods to Seeds —
She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about —
And left Brazilian Threads

On every shoulder that she met —
Then both her Hands of Haze
Put up — to hide her parting Grace
From our unfitted eyes.

My loss, by sickness — Was it Loss?
Or that Ethereal Gain
One earns by measuring the Grave —
Then — measuring the Sun —
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