281 <br /> <br />'Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— <br />So over Horror, it half Captivates— <br />The Soul stares after it, secure— <br />A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more— <br /> <br />To scan a Ghost, is faint— <br />But grappling, conquers it— <br />How easy, Torment, now— <br />Suspense kept sawing so— <br /> <br />The Truth, is Bald, and Cold— <br />But that will hold— <br />If any are not sure— <br />We show them—prayer— <br />But we, who know, <br />Stop hoping, now— <br /> <br />Looking at Death, is Dying— <br />Just let go the Breath— <br />And not the pillow at your Cheek <br />So Slumbereth— <br /> <br />Others, Can wrestle— <br />Yours, is done— <br />And so of Woe, bleak dreaded—come, <br />It sets the Fright at liberty— <br />And Terror's free— <br />Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tis-so-appalling-mdash-it-exhilarates/
