Remorse-is Memory-awake

Emily Dickinson

744

Remorse—is Memory—awake—
Her Parties all astir—
A Presence of Departed Acts—
At window—and at Door—

Its Past—set down before the Soul
And lighted with a Match—
Perusal—to facilitate—
And help Belief to stretch—

Remorse is cureless—the Disease
Not even God—can heal—
For ’tis His institution—and
The Adequate of Hell—

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Removed From Accident Of Loss
• Emily Dickinson : Renunciation-is A Piercing Virtue
• Emily Dickinson : Reportless Subjects, To The Quick
• Emily Dickinson : Rest At Night
• Emily Dickinson : Reverse Cannot Befall
• Emily Dickinson : Revolution Is The Pod
• Emily Dickinson : Ribbons Of The Year
• Emily Dickinson : Risk Is The Hair That Holds The Tun
• Emily Dickinson : Robbed By Death-but That Was Easy
• Emily Dickinson : Safe Despair It Is That Raves-

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Remembrance Has A Rear And Front-
• Emily Dickinson : Remember Me Implored The Thief!
• Emily Dickinson : Rehearsal To Ourselves
• Emily Dickinson : Red Sea, Indeed! Talk Not To Me
• Emily Dickinson : Recollect The Face Of Me
• Emily Dickinson : Rearrange A 'wife's' Affection!
• Emily Dickinson : Read-sweet-how Others-strove
• Emily Dickinson : Rather Arid Delight
• Emily Dickinson : Quite Empty, Quite At Rest
• Emily Dickinson : Put Up My Lute!