by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)
It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
Language: English
It ceased to hurt me, though so slow I could not feel the anguish go, But only knew by looking back That something had benumbed the track. Nor when it altered I could say, For I had worn it every day As constant as the childish frock I hung upon the peg at night, But not the grief. That nestled close As needles ladies softly press To cushions' cheeks to keep their place. Nor what console it I could trace, Except whereas 'twas wilderness, It's better, almost peace.
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Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Gordon Getty (b. 1933), "It ceased to hurt me" [soprano and piano], from The White Election - A Song Cycle for soprano and piano on 32 poems of Emily Dickinson, Part 3 : Almost Peace, no. 18. [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Barbara Miller
This text was added to the website: 2011-01-12
Line count: 14
Word count: 88