Daily Emily Dickinson

poems | source | simple

· · ·

                XXXV.

DISENCHANTMENT.

It dropped so low in my regard
  I heard it hit the ground,
And go to pieces on the stones
  At bottom of my mind;

Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less
  Than I reviled myself
For entertaining plated wares
  Upon my silver shelf.


            
Sunday, November 15, 2026
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