The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Series Two
Life, Poem 57: Called Back
by Emily Dickinson
Just lost when I was saved!
Just lost when I was saved!
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun
Tired with all these for restful death I cry
Safe in their alabaster chambers
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck
A poor torn heart, a tattered heart
The other two, slight air, and purging fire
If anybody's friend be dead
What’s in the brain that ink may character
Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now
I started early, took my dog
Delayed till she had ceased to know
A narrow fellow in the grass
The wind tapped like a tired man
They that have power to hurt, and will do none
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill
Musicians wrestle everywhere:
When my love swears that she is made of truth
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
Dare you see a soul at the white heat?
Canst thou O cruel, say I love thee not
No brigadier throughout the year
These are the days when birds come back
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse