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Contents > Author > Emily Dickinson > His Bill is clasped--his Eye forsook-- 1830- 1886
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Emily Dickinson
His Bill is clasped--his Eye forsook--
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His Bill is clasped -- his Eye forsook --
His Feathers wilted low --
The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves
Indifferent hanging now --
The Joy that in his happy Throat
Was waiting to be poured
Gored through and through with Death, to be
Assassin of a Bird
Resembles to my outraged mind
The firing in Heaven,
On Angels -- squandering for you
Their Miracles of Tune --


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