Monday, April 25, 2016

I know that hour

There comes an hour when begging stops,
When the long interceding lips
Perceive their prayer is vain.
"Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword
Than from a disappointing God
"Disciple, call again".

Emily Dickinson, poem first published 1945


  1. Gretchen,

    I am so sorry that you are suffering so much. I am here to listen.


  2. Emily Dickinson is my favorite poet. I did not recall this one, but it is quite perfect. The begging and prayers are over. They are gone and we suffer. Yet, my favorite of hers is "Because I could not stop for death" . To me it suggests that death is a journey, like a lovely horse drawn carriage ride, to eternity, where perhaps we will one day see B.W., Zachary, and Heidi again. If an isolated Poet can believe it, then I do. Thinking of you often, Kim

  3. Oh Gretchen. I had never read this poem before. I have been turning it over in my mind since you posted it. That hour when begging stops and so much else ceases alongside it.