Dickinson Poems

S03E05 Sang from the Heart, Sire,

Sang from the Heart, Sire,

by Emily Dickinson

Sang from the Heart, Sire,

Dipped my Beak in it,

If the Tune drip too much

Have a tint too Red

Pardon the Cochineal—

Suffer the Vermillion—

Death is the Wealth

Of the Poorest Bird.

Bear with the Ballad—

Awkward—faltering—

Death twists the strings—

'Twasn't my blame—

Pause in your Liturgies—

Wait your Chorals—

While I repeat your

Hallowed name—