By Stretch of Limb or Stir of Lid

Madeleine Morris

CXXXIX

A LONG, long sleep, a famous sleep 

  That makes no show for dawn 

By stretch of limb or stir of lid,—     

  An independent one.   

 

Was ever idleness like this?          

  Within a hut of stone  

To bask the centuries away  

  Nor once look up for noon?

Emily Dickinson


 The liberty to die
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed
But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
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