793 <br /> <br />Grief is a Mouse— <br />And chooses Wainscot in the Breast <br />For His Shy House— <br />And baffles quest— <br /> <br />Grief is a Thief—quick startled— <br />Pricks His Ear—report to hear <br />Of that Vast Dark— <br />That swept His Being—back— <br /> <br />Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play— <br />Lest if He flinch—the eye that way <br />Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three— <br />Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury— <br /> <br />Best Grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell— <br />Burn Him in the Public Square— <br />His Ashes—will <br />Possibly—if they refuse—How then know— <br />Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable—now.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grief-is-a-mouse/
