I tie my Hat - I crease my Shawl, by Emily Dickinson

I tie my Hat-I crease my Shawl-
Life's little duties do-precisely-
As the very least
Were infinite-to me-

I put new Blossoms in the Glass-
And throw the old-away-
I push a petal from my gown
That anchored there-I weigh
The time 'twill be till six o'clock
I have so much to do-
And yet-Existence-some way back-
Stopped-struck-my ticking-through-
We cannot put Ourself away
As a completed Man
Or Woman-When the Errand's done
We came to Flesh-upon-
There may be-Miles on Miles of Nought-
Of Action-sicker far-
To simulate-is stinging work-
To cover what we are
From Science-and from Surgery-
Too Telescopic Eyes
To bear on us unshaded-
For their-sake-not for Ours-
Twould start them-
We-could tremble-
But since we got a Bomb-
And held it in our Bosom-
Nay-Hold it-it is calm-

Therefore-we do life's labor-
Though life's Reward-be done-
With scrupulous exactness-
To hold our Senses-on-