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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Twas the old—road—through pain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">344</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Twas the old—road—through pain—<br>That unfrequented—one—<br>With many a turn—and thorn—<br>That stops—at Heaven—</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This—was the Town—she passed—<br>There—where she—rested—last—<br>Then—stepped more fast—<br>The little tracks—close prest—<br>Then—not so swift—<br>Slow—slow—as feet did weary—grow—<br>Then—stopped—no other track!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Wait! Look! Her little Book—<br>The leaf—at love—turned back—<br>Her very Hat—<br>And this worn shoe just fits the track—<br>Herself—though—fled!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=386355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Another bed—a short one—<br>Women make—tonight—<br>In Chambers bright—<br>Too out of sight—though—<br>For our hoarse Good Night—<br>To touch her Head!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Emily+Dickinson">Emily Dickinson</a></strong></div>

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