The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
Of Death I try to think like this, The Well in which they lay us Is but the Likeness of the Brook That menaced not to slay us, But to invite by that DismayWhich is the Zest of sweetness To the same flower Flowersame Flower Hesperian, Decoying but to greet us -I do remember when a Child With bolder Playmates strayingTo where a Brook that seemed a Sea Withheld us by it's roaring From just a Purple Flower beyond Until constrained to clutch it Were Doom itself the penalty -If Doom itself were the result,Thebravest boldest leaped, and clutched it -