<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540796" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Emily Dickinson</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear Emily, my tears would burn your page, <br>But for the fire-dry line that makes them burn— <br>Burning my eyes, my fingers, while I turn <br>Singly the words that crease my heart with age. <br>If I could make some tortured pilgrimage <br>Through words or Time. or the blank pain of Doom <br>And kneel before you as you found your tomb, <br>Then I might rise to face my heritage. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yours was an empty upland solitude <br>Bleached to the powder of a dying name; <br>The mind, lost in a word’s lost certitude <br>That faded as the fading footsteps came <br>To trace an epilogue to words grown odd <br>In that hard argument which led to God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Yvor+Winters">Yvor Winters</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540796" data-title="To Emily Dickinson de Yvor Winters" data-description="Dear Emily, my tears would burn your page, But for the fire-dry line that makes them burn— Burning my eyes, my fingers, while I turn Singly the words that crease my heart with age. If I could make some tortured pilgrimage Through words or T..."></div> </div> </div>

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