Author Emily Dickinson 353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn't state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now— But this one, wears its merriment So patient—like a pain— Fresh gilded—to elude the eyes Unqualified, to scan— Tags happy pain smile Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments