Emily Dickinson - Letter 872 - To Charles H. Clark, Mid October 1883 lyrics

Dear Friend. These thoughts disquiet me, and the great friend is gone, who could solace them. Do they disturb you? The Spirit lasts-but in what mode- Below, the Body speaks, But as the Spirit furnishes- Apart, it never talks- The Music in the Violin Does not emerge alone But Arm in Arm with Touch, yet Touch Alone-is not a Tune- The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be? Does that know-now-or does it cease- That which to this is done, Resuming at a mutual date With every future one? Instinct pursues the Adamant, Exacting this Reply- Adversity if it may be, or Wild Prosperity, The Rumor's Gate was shut so tight Before my Mind was sown, Not even a Prognostic's Push Could make a Dent thereon- With the trust you live, E. Dickinson.