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Non omnis moriar

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,

by Emily Dickinson · Explore poems

  1. Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
  2. There's not a charge to me
  3. Like that old measure in the boughs,
  4. That phraseless melody
  5.  
  6. The wind does, working like a hand
  7. Whose fingers brush the sky,
  8. Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
  9. Permitted gods and me.
  10.  
  11. When winds go round and round in bands,
  12. And thrum upon the door,
  13. And birds take places overhead,
  14. To bear them orchestra,
  15.  
  16. I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
  17. If such an outcast be,
  18. He never heard that fleshless chant
  19. Rise solemn in the tree,
  20.  
  21. As if some caravan of sound
  22. On deserts, in the sky,
  23. Had broken rank,
  24. Then knit, and passed
  25. In seamless company.

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