The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
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 wedgedHimself 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 RavineWe chased him to his Den - We hated Death and hated Life And nowhere was to go - Than Sea and continent there isA larger - it is Woe