69
Low at my problem bending,
Another problem comes—
Larger than mine—Serener—
Involving statelier sums.
I check my busy pencil,
My figures file away.
Wherefore, my baffled fingers
They perplexity?
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I Sometimes Drop It, For A Quick
- They Ask But Our Delight
- Of Tribulation, These Are They
- Kill Your Balm—and Its Odors Bless You
- To the bright east she flies,