339 [241]
EMILY DICKINSON
I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it’s true —
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe —
The Eyes glaze once — and that is Death —
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung
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The Renewable Anthology of Early American Literature 2.0 Copyright © by Jared Aragona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.