Emily Dickinson

He told a homely tale

763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years— All crumpled was the cheek No other kiss had known Than flake of snow, divided with The Redbreast of the Barn— If Mother—in the Grave— Or Father—on the Sea— Or Father in the Firmament— Or Brethren, had he— If Commonwealth below, Or Commonwealth above Have missed a Barefoot Citizen— I've ransomed it—alive—