Emily Dickinson's Collected Poems

Part One: Life 81. I know that he exists

I know that he exists

Somewhere, in silence.

He has hid his rare life

From our gross eyes.

'T is an instant's play,

'T is a fond ambush,

Just to make bliss

Earn her own surprise!

But should the play

Prove piercing earnest,

Should the glee glaze

In death's stiff stare,

Would not the fun

Look too expensive?

Would not the jest

Have crawled too far?