663 <br /> <br />Again—his voice is at the door— <br />I feel the old Degree— <br />I hear him ask the servant <br />For such an one—as me— <br /> <br />I take a flower—as I go— <br />My face to justify— <br />He never saw me—in this life— <br />I might surprise his eye! <br /> <br />I cross the Hall with mingled steps— <br />I—silent—pass the door— <br />I look on all this world contains— <br />Just his face—nothing more! <br /> <br />We talk in careless—and it toss— <br />A kind of plummet strain— <br />Each—sounding—shyly— <br />Just—how—deep— <br />The other's one—had been— <br /> <br />We walk—I leave my Dog—at home— <br />A tender—thoughtful Moon— <br />Goes with us—just a little way— <br />And—then—we are alone— <br /> <br />Alone—if Angels are "alone"— <br />First time they try the sky! <br />Alone—if those "veiled faces"—be— <br />We cannot count—on High! <br /> <br />I'd give—to live that hour—again— <br />The purple—in my Vein— <br />But He must count the drops—himself— <br />My price for every stain!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/again-mdash-his-voice-is-at-the-door/
