Water makes many Beds
For those averse to sleep -
Its awful chamber open stands -
Its Curtains blandly sweep -
Abhorrent is the Rest
In undulating Rooms
Whose Amplitude no end invades -
Whose Axis never comes.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- There Came A Day At Summer's Full
- To Fill A Gap
- She Died—this Was The Way She Died
- How Many Flowers Fail In Wood
- Till Death—is Narrow Loving