Emily Dickinson — It dont sound so terrible—quite—as it did

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