574 <br /> <br />My first well Day—since many ill— <br />I asked to go abroad, <br />And take the Sunshine in my hands, <br />And see the things in Pod— <br /> <br />A 'blossom just when I went in <br />To take my Chance with pain— <br />Uncertain if myself, or He, <br />Should prove the strongest One. <br /> <br />The Summer deepened, while we strove— <br />She put some flowers away— <br />And Redder cheeked Ones—in their stead— <br />A fond—illusive way— <br /> <br />To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried— <br />As if before a child <br />To fade—Tomorrow—Rainbows held <br />The Sepulchre, could hide. <br /> <br />She dealt a fashion to the Nut— <br />She tied the Hoods to Seeds— <br />She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about— <br />And left Brazilian Threads <br /> <br />On every shoulder that she met— <br />Then both her Hands of Haze <br />Put up—to hide her parting Grace <br />From our unfitted eyes. <br /> <br />My loss, by sickness—Was it Loss? <br />Or that Ethereal Gain <br />One earns by measuring the Grave— <br />Then—measuring the Sun—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-first-well-day-since-many-ill/
