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She dealt her pretty words like Blades-
How glittering they shone-
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone-
She never deemed-she hurt-
That-is not Steel's Affair-
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh-
How ill the Creatures bear-
To Ache is human-not polite-
The Film upon the eye
Mortality's old Custom-
Just locking up-to Die.
She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: never, human, steel, pretty, bone, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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