: Emily Elizabeth Dickinson 1830-1886 ( )


 

 

: Emily Elizabeth Dickinson 1830-1886 ( )

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If I should cease to bring a Rose
Upon a festal day,
Twill be because beyond the Rose
I have been called away

If I should cease to take the names
My buds commemorate
Twill be because Deaths finger
Claps my murmuring lip!
 

Peace is fiction of our Faith -
The Bells a Winter Night
Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound
That never did alight
 


If what we could were what we would
Criterion be small
It is the Ultimate of Talk
The Impotence to Tell
 


I cannot be ashamed
Because I cannot see
The love you offer
Magnitude
Reverses modesty

And I cannot be proud
Because a Height so high
Involves Alpine
Requirements
And Services of Snow
 


No Man can compass a Despair
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveler proceed
Unconscious of the Width
Unconscious that the Sun
Be setting on His progress
So accurate the One
At estimating Pain
Whose own has just begun
His ignorance the Angel
That pilot Him along -
 


She dealt her pretty words like Blades
How glittering they shone
And every One unbarred a Nerve.
Or wantoned with a Bone
She never deemed she hurt
That is not Steels Aftair
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh
How ill the Creatures bear
To Ache is human not polite
The Film upon the eye
Mortalitys old Custom
Just locking up to Die
 


They dropped like Flakes
They dropped like Stars
Like Petals from a Rose -
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes -
They perished in the Seamless Grass
No eye could find the place
But God can summon every face
On his Repealless - List
 


Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality
Nay, it is Deity

Unable they that love - to die
For Love reforms Vitality
Into Divinity


The Mind lives on the Heart
Like any Parasite -
If that is full of Meat
The Mind is fat.

But if the Heart omit
Emaciate the Wit -
The Aliment of it
So absolute


We outgrow love like other things
And put it into Drawer -
Till it an Antique fashion shows
Like Costumes Grandsires wore.


THE SOUL selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

Unmoved, she notes the chariots pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.

I ve known her from an ample nation
Choose one;
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.


I died for beauty - but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In adjoining Room.

He questioned softly Why I failed ?
For Beauty I replied -
And I - for Truth - Themself are One -
We Brethren, are - He said -

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night -
We talked between the Rooms -
Until the Moss had reached our lips -
And covered up our names -


I asked no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.
Brazil? He twirled a button,
Without a glance my way:
But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show to-day?


Ive known a Heaven, like a Tent
To wrap its shining Yards
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear
Without the sound of Boards

Or Rip of Nail - or Carpenter
But just the miles of Stare
That signalize a Shows Retreat
In North America

No Trace no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, yesterday,
No Ring no Marvel
Men and Feasts
Dissolved as utterly

A Birds far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue
A splash of Oars, a Gaiety
Then swallowed up, of View
 


There's been a death in the opposite house
As lately as today.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have alway.

The neighbours rustle in and out,
The doctor drives away.
A window opens like a pod,
Abrupt, mechanically;

Somebody flings a mattress out, -
The children hurry by;
They wonder if It died on that, -
I used to when a boy.

The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;

And then the milliner, and the man
Of the appalling trade,
To take the measure of the house.
There'll be that dark parade

Of tassels and of coaches soon;
It's easy as a sign, -
The intuition of the news
In just a country town.


Good Morning - Midnight
I'm coming Home -
Day - got tired of Me -
How could I - of Him?
Sunshine was a sweet place -
I liked to stay -
But Morn - didn't want me - now -
So - Good Night - Day!
I can look - can't I -
When the East is Read?
The Hills - have a way - then -
That puts the Heart - abroad -
You are not so fair - Midnight -
I choose - Day -
But - please take a little Girl -
He turned away!


The distance that the dead had gone
Does not at firs appear.
Their coming back seems possible
For many an ardent year.

And then, that we have followed them
We more than half suspect
S0o intimate have we become
With their dear retrospect.
 


Ourselves were wed one summer dear
Your vision was in June
And when Your little Lifetime failed,
I wearied too of mine.

And overtaken in the dark
Where You had put me down
But Some one carrying a Light
I too - received the Sign.

Tis true our Futures different lay
Your Cottage faced the Sun
While Oceans and the North must be
On every side of mine

Tis true, Your Garden led the Bloom,
For mine in Frosts was sown
And yet, one summer, we were Queens
But You were crowned in June.
 


This is my letter to the world,
 That never wrote to me,
The simple news that Nature told,
 With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
 Judge tenderly of me!


Civilization - spurns - the Leopard!
Was the Leopard - bold?
Deserts - never rebuked her Satin
Ethiop - her Gold -
Tawny - her Customs -
She was Conscious -
Spotted - her Dun Gown -
This was the Leopard's nature - Signor
Need - a keeper - frown?

Pity - the Pard - that left her Asia -
Memories - of Palm -
Cannot be stifled - with narcotic -
Not suppressed - with Balm -


Why do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing - too loud?
But I can say a little Minor
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldnt the Angels try me
Just once more
Just see if I troubled them
But dont shut the door!

Oh, if I were the Gentleman
In the White Robe
And they were the little Hand that knocked
Could I forbid?

 


What soft Cherubic Creatures
These Gentelwomen are
One would as soon assault a Plush
Or violate a Star

Such Dimity Convictions
A Horror so refined
Of freckled Human Nature -
Of Deity ashamed

Its such a common Glory
A Fishermans degree
Redemption Brittle Lady
Be so ashamed of Thee -

 


I shall know why - when Time is over -
And I have ceased to wonder why -
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky -
He will tell me what "Peter" promised -
And I - for wonder at his woe
I shall forget the drop of Anguish
That calds me now - that scalds me now!


The most important population
Unnoticed dwell,
They have a heaven each instant
Not any hell
Their names, unless you know them
'Twere useless tell.
Of bumble-bees and other nations
The grass is full.


Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,you re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

I had no time to hate, because  
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
  
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.

I HAD a guinea golden;
  I lost it in the sand,
And though the sum was simple,
  And pounds were in the land,
Still had it such a value
  Unto my frugal eye,
That when I could not find it
  I sat me down to sigh.
  
I had a crimson robin
  Who sang full many a day,
But when the woods were painted
  He, too, did fly away.
Time brought me other robins,
  Their ballads were the same,
Still for my missing troubadour
  I kept the house at hame.
  
I had a star in heaven;
  One Pleiad was its name,
And when I was not heeding
  It wandered from the same.
And though the skies are crowded,
  And all the night ashine,
I do not care about it,
  Since none of them are mine.
  
My story has a moral:
  I have a missing friend,
Pleiad its name, and robin,
  And guinea in the sand,
And when this mournful ditty,
  Accompanied with tear,
Shall meet the eye of traitor
  In country far from here,
Grant that repentance solemn
  May seize upon his mind,
And he no consolation
  Beneath the sun may find.

Not in vain

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life the aching
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.


We play at Paste
Till qualified for Pearl
Then drop the Paste
And deem ourself a fool

The Shapes though are similar
And our new Hands
Learned Gem Tactics
Practicing Sands
 


I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there -
I held my spirit to the Glass
To prove it possibler -
I turned my being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name -
For doubt, that I should know te Sound
I judged my features - jarred my hair -
I pushed my dimples by, and waited -
If they - twinkled back -
Conviction might, of me -
I told myself "Take Courage, Friend -
That was a former time -
But we might learn to like the Heaven
As well as our Old Home!"

 

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: Emily Elizabeth Dickinson 1830-1886 ( )

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