426 <br /> <br />It don't sound so terrible—quite—as it did— <br />I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "Dead." <br />Put it in Latin—left of my school— <br />Seems it don't shriek so—under rule. <br /> <br />Turn it, a little—full in the face <br />A Trouble looks bitterest— <br />Shift it—just— <br />Say "When Tomorrow comes this way— <br />I shall have waded down one Day." <br /> <br />I suppose it will interrupt me some <br />Till I get accustomed—but then the Tomb <br />Like other new Things—shows largest—then— <br />And smaller, by Habit— <br /> <br />It's shrewder then <br />Put the Thought in advance—a Year— <br />How like "a fit"—then— <br />Murder—wear!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-don-t-sound-so-terrible-quite-as-it-did/
