poems sent from dickinson to elizabeth holland

To Dr. and Mrs. Holland
From ED

Tho' my destiny be Fustian -
Her's be damask fine -
Tho' she wear a silver apron -
I, a less divine -

Still, my little Gipsey being
I would far prefer,
Still, my little sunburnt bosom
To her Rosier,

For, when Frosts, their punctual fingers
On her forehead lay,
You and I, and Dr Holland,
Bloom Eternally!

Roses of a steadfast summer
In a steadfast land,
Where no Autumn lifts her pencil -
And no Reapers stand!

thomas johnson's note on poem 163 | index to dickinson/holland poems

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Commentary copyright 1998 by Martha Nell Smith, all rights reserved
Maintained by Lara Vetter <lv26@umail.umd.edu>
Last updated on January 19, 1999