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A Wounded Deer—leaps highest—
I've heard the Hunter tell—
'Tis but the Ecstasy of death—
And then the Brake is still!
The Smitten Rock that gushes!
The trampled Steel that springs!
A Cheek is always redder
Just where the Hectic stings!
Mirth is the Mail of Anguish
In which it Cautious Arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And "you're hurt" exclaim!
A Wounded Deer—leaps Highest
Emily Dickinson
(2)
Poem topics: death, steel, hunter, anguish, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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