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A wounded deer leaps highest
A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs:
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings!
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, "you're hurt" exclaim |
| Emily Dickinson |
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| Reader Comments |
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| hZOoUKykZtyddgIiTS |
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| Name: Davion | 2013-02-23 |
| yes, i can relate, someeimts it's hard to choose between family and career. you have to think it through coz your decision could affect a lot of things. just hope for the best, good luck! |
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