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Emily Dickinson, Poems
© Copyright , ,
Email: l_sitnik@autopanorama.mtu-net.ru
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19 A sepal, petal, and a thorn
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23 I had a guinea golden
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49 I never lost as much but twice
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61 Papa above!
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89 Some things that fly there be
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106 The Daisy follows soft the Sun
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115 What Inn is this
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118 My friend attacks my friend!
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119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar
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120 If this is "fading"
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126 To fight aloud, is very brave
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131 Besides the Autumn poets sing
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139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again?
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140 An altered look about the hills
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153 Dust is the only Secret
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172 'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
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180 As if some little Arctic flower
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182 If I shouldn't be alive
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205 I should not dare to leave my friend
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216 Safe in their Alabaster Chambers
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235 The Court is far away
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239 "Heaven" -- is what I cannot reach!
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243 I've known a Heaven, like a Tent
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248 Why -- do they shut Me out of Heaven?
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266 This -- is the land -- the Sunset washes
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275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!
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280 I felt a Funeral, in my Brain
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289 I know some lonely Houses off the Road
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303 The Soul selects her own Society
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318 I'll tell you how the Sun rose
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347 When Night is almost done
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377 To lose one's faith -- surpass
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389 There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,
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409 They dropped like Flakes
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441 This is my letter to the World
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449 I died for Beauty -- but was scarce
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508 I'm ceded -- I've stopped being Theirs
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509 If anybody's friend be dead
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536 The Heart asks Pleasure -- first
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547 I've seen a Dying Eye
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556 The Brain, within its Groove
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583 A Toad, can die of Light
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619 Glee -- The great storm is over
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622 To know just how He suffered -- would be dear --
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623 It was too late for Man
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664 Of all the Souls that stand create
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670 One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted
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682 'Twould ease -- a Butterfly
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709 Publication -- is the Auction
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732 She rose to His Requirement -- droppt
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742 Four Trees -- upon a solitary Acre
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759 He fought like those Who've nought to lose
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764 Presentiment -- is that long Shadow -- on the Lawn
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793 Grief is a Mouse
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797 By my Window have I for Scenery
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822 This Consciousness that is aware
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887 We outgrow love, like other things
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975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain
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976 Death is a Dialogue between
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1055 The Soul should always stand ajar
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1067 Except the smaller size
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1075 The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean.
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1129 Tell all the Truth but tell it slant
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1182 Remembrance has a Rear and Front
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1186 Too few the mornings be
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1207 He preached upon 'Breadth' till it argued him narrow
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1212 A word is dead
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1216 A Deed knocks first at Thought
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1287 In this short Life
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1396 She laid her docile Crescent down
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1398 I have no Life but this
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1478 Look back on Time, with kindly eyes
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1544 Who has not found the Heaven -- below
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1587 He ate and drank the precious Words
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1593 There came a Wind like a Bugle
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1599 Though the great Waters sleep
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1672 Lightly stepped a yellow star
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1732 My life closed twice before its close
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1736 Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it
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1862 ( 32- )
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"If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking", "I Taste a Liquor
Never Brewed", "To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave",
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. "Of Tribulation These Are They"
"white-designate", "times-palms", "soil-mile", "road-Saved!"
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It Grew" "outvisions
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, "How Many Times These
Low Feet Staggered" "They Put Us Far Apart" ,
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A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer's morn --
A flask of Dew -- A Bee or two --
A Breeze -- a caper in the trees --
And I'm a Rose!
1858
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I had a guinea golden --
I lost it in the sand --
And tho' 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 Troubador
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 tho' 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.
1858
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I never lost as much but twice,
And that was in the sod.
Twice have I stood a beggar
Before the door of God!
Angels -- twice descending
Reimbursed my store --
Burglar! Banker -- Father!
I am poor once more!
1858
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Papa above!
Regard a Mouse
O'erpowered by the Cat!
Reserve within thy kingdom
A "Mansion" for the Rat!
Snug in seraphic Cupboards
To nibble all the day,
While unsuspecting Cycles
Wheel solemnly away!
1859
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Some things that fly there be --
Birds -- Hours -- the Bumblebee --
Of these no Elegy.
Some things that stay there be --
Grief -- Hills -- Eternity --
Nor this behooveth me.
There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!
1859
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The Daisy follows soft the Sun --
And when his golden walk is done --
Sits shyly at his feet --
He -- waking -- finds the flower there --
Wherefore -- Marauder -- art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!
We are the Flower -- Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline --
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West --
The peace -- the flight -- the Amethyst --
Night's possibility!
1859
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What Inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar Traveller comes?
Who is the Landlord?
Where the maids?
Behold, what curious rooms!
No ruddy fires on the hearth --
No brimming Tankards flow --
Necromancer! Landlord!
Who are these below?
1859
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My friend attacks my friend!
Oh Battle picturesque!
Then I turn Soldier too,
And he turns Satirist!
How martial is this place!
Had I a mighty gun
I think I'd shoot the human race
And then to glory run!
1859
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Talk with prudence to a Beggar
Of "Potose," and the mines!
Reverently, to the Hungry
Of your viands, and your wines!
Cautious, hint to any Captive
You have passed enfranchised feet!
Anecdotes of air in Dungeons
Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!
1859
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If this is "fading"
Oh let me immediately "fade"!
If this is "dying"
Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is "sleep,"
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!
1859
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To fight aloud, is very brave --
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe --
Who win, and nations do not see --
Who fall -- and none observe --
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriot love --
We trust, in plumed procession
For such, the Angels go --
Rank after Rank, with even feet --
And Uniforms of Snow.
1859
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Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze --
A few incisive Mornings --
A few Ascetic Eves --
Gone -- Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod" --
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."
Still, is the bustle in the Brook --
Sealed are the spicy valves --
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves --
Perhaps a squirrel may remain --
My sentiments to share --
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind --
Thy windy will to bear!
1859
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Soul, Wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost indeed --
But tens have won an all --
Angel's breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee --
Imps in eager Caucus
Raffle for my Soul!
1859
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An altered look about the hills --
A Tyrian light the village fills --
A wider sunrise in the morn --
A deeper twilight on the lawn --
A print of a vermillion foot --
A purple finger on the slope --
A flippant fly upon the pane --
A spider at his trade again --
An added strut in Chanticleer --
A flower expected everywhere --
An axe shrill singing in the woods --
Fern odors on untravelled roads --
All this and more I cannot tell --
A furtive look you know as well --
And Nicodemus' Mystery
Receives its annual reply!
1859
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Dust is the only Secret --
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his "native town."
Nobody know "his Father" --
Never was a Boy --
Hadn't any playmates,
Or "Early history" --
Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!
Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest --
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!
1860
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'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I,
Have ventured all upon a throw!
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so --
This side the Victory!
Life is but Life! And Death, but Death!
Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
And if indeed I fail,
At least, to know the worst, is sweet!
Defeat means nothing but Defeat,
No drearier, can befall!
And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea!
Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be!
At first, repeat it slow!
For Heaven is a different thing,
Conjectured, and waked sudden in --
And might extinguish me!
1860
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As if some little Arctic flower
Upon the polar hem --
Went wandering down the Latitudes
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer --
To firmaments of sun --
To strange, bright crowds of flowers --
And birds, of foreign tongue!
I say, As if this little flower
To Eden, wandered in --
What then? Why nothing,
Only, your inference therefrom!
1860
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If I shouldn't be alive
When the Robins come,
Give the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.
If I couldn't thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I'm trying
Why my Granite lip!
1860
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I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because -- because if he should die
While I was gone -- and I -- too late --
Should reach the Heart that wanted me --
If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted -- hunted so -- to see --
And could not bear to shut until
They "noticed" me -- they noticed me --
If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I'd come -- so sure I'd come --
It listening -- listening -- went to sleep --
Telling my tardy name --
My Heart would wish it broke before --
Since breaking then -- since breaking then --
Were useless as next morning's sun --
Where midnight frosts -- had lain!
1860
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Safe in their Alabaster Chambers --
Untouched my Morning
And untouched by Noon --
Lie the meek members of the Resurrection --
Rafter of Satin -- and Roof of Stone!
Grand go the Years -- in the Crescent -- above them --
Worlds scoop their Arcs --
And Firmaments -- row --
Diadems -- drop -- and Doges -- surrender --
Soundless as dots -- on a Disc of Snow --
1860
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The Court is far away --
No Umpire -- have I --
My Sovereign is offended --
To gain his grace -- I'd die!
I'll seek his royal feet --
I'll say -- Remember -- King --
Thou shalt -- thyself -- one day -- a Child --
Implore a larger -- thing --
That Empire -- is of Czars --
As small -- they say -- as I --
Grant me -- that day -- the royalty --
To intercede -- for Thee --
1861
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"Heaven" -- is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree --
Provided it do hopeless -- hang --
That -- "Heaven" is -- to Me!
The Color, on the Cruising Cloud --
The interdicted Land --
Behind the Hill -- the House behind --
There -- Paradise -- is found!
Her teasing Purples -- Afternoons --
The credulous -- decoy --
Enamored -- of the Conjuror --
That spurned us -- Yesterday!
1861
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I've 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 Show's Retreat --
In North America --
No Trace -- no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring -- no Marvel --
Men, and Feats --
Dissolved as utterly --
As Bird's far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue --
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety --
Then swallowed up, of View.
1861
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Why -- do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing -- too loud?
But -- I can say a little "Minor"
Timid as a Bird!
Wouldn't the Angels try me --
Just -- once -- more --
Just -- see -- if I troubled them --
But don't -- shut the door!
Oh, if I -- were the Gentleman
In the "White Robe" --
And they -- were the little Hand -- that knocked --
Could -- I -- forbid?
1861
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This -- is the land -- the Sunset washes --
These -- are the Banks of the Yellow Sea --
Where it rose -- or whither it rushes --
These -- are the Western Mystery!
Night after Night
Her purple traffic
Strews the landing with Opal Bales --
Merchantmen -- poise upon Horizons --
Dip -- and vanish like Orioles!
1861
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Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!
Why, God, would be content
With but a fraction of the Life --
Poured thee, without a stint --
The whole of me -- forever --
What more the Woman can,
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last Delight I own!
It cannot be my Spirit --
For that was thine, before --
I ceded all of Dust I knew --
What Opulence the more
Had I -- a freckled Maiden,
Whose farthest of Degree,
Was -- that she might --
Some distant Heaven,
Dwell timidly, with thee!
Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot!
Strain till your last Surmise --
Drop, like a Tapestry, away,
Before the Fire's Eyes --
Winnow her finest fondness --
But hallow just the snow
Intact, in Everlasting flake --
Oh, Caviler, for you!
1861
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I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through --
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum --
Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought
My Mind was going numb --
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space -- began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here --
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down --
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing -- then --
1861
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I know some lonely Houses off the Road
A Robber'd like the look of --
Wooden barred,
And Windows hanging low,
Inviting to --
A Portico,
Where two could creep --
One -- hand the Tools --
The other peep --
To make sure All's Asleep --
Old fashioned eyes --
Not easy to surprise!
How orderly the Kitchen'd look, by night,
With just a Clock --
But they could gag the Tick --
And Mice won't bark --
And so the Walls -- don't tell --
None -- will --
A pair of Spectacles ajar just stir --
An Almanac's aware --
Was it the Mat -- winked,
Or a Nervous Star?
The Moon -- slides down the stair,
To see who's there!
There's plunder -- where
Tankard, or Spoon --
Earring -- or Stone --
A Watch -- Some Ancient Brooch
To match the Grandmama --
Staid sleeping -- there --
Day -- rattles -- too
Stealth's -- slow --
The Sun has got as far
As the third Sycamore --
Screams Chanticleer,
"Who's there"?
And Echoes -- Trains away,
Sneer -- "Where"!
While the old Couple, just astir,
Fancy the Sunrise -- left the door ajar!
1861
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The Soul selects her own Society --
Then -- shuts the Door --
To her divine Majority --
Present no more --
Unmoved -- she notes the Chariots -- pausing --
At her low Gate --
Unmoved -- an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat --
I've known her -- from an ample nation --
Choose One --
Then -- close the Valves of her attention --
Like Stone --
1862
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I'll tell you how the Sun rose --
A Ribbon at a time --
The Steeples swam in Amethyst --
The news, like Squirrels, ran --
The Hills untied their Bonnets --
The Bobolinks -- begun --
Then I said softly to myself --
"That must have been the Sun"!
But how he set -- I know not --
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while --
Till when they reached the other side,
A Dominie in Gray --
Put gently up the evening Bars --
And led the flock away --
1861
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When Night is almost done --
And Sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the Spaces --
It's time to smooth the Hair --
And get the Dimples ready --
And wonder we could care
For that old -- faded Midnight --
That frightened -- but an Hour --
1862
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To lose one's faith -- surpass
The loss of an Estate --
Because Estates can be
Replenished -- faith cannot --
Inherited with Life --
Belief -- but once -- can be --
Annihilate a single clause --
And Being's -- Beggary --
1862
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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 Neighbors 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 --
1862
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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
Of his Repealless -- List.
1862
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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
1862
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, --
.
,
, --
--
-- !
.
I died for Beauty -- but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an 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 --
1862
,
,
,
.
" ", --
-- .
" , -- , --
".
,
,
--
.
.
I'm ceded -- I've stopped being Theirs --
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
I've finished threading -- too --
Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace --
Unto supremest name --
Called to my Full -- The Crescent dropped --
Existence's whole Arc, filled up,
With one small Diadem.
My second Rank -- too small the first --
Crowned -- Crowing -- on my Father's breast --
A half unconscious Queen --
But this time -- Adequate -- Erect,
With Will to choose, or to reject,
And I choose, just a Crown --
1862
-- ;
,
- ,
.
,
, ,
.
-,
,
, ,
.
... ,
;
-- , ,
,
-- .
.
If anybody's friend be dead
It's sharpest of the theme
The thinking how they walked alive --
At such and such a time --
Their costume, of a Sunday,
Some manner of the Hair --
A prank nobody knew but them
Lost, in the Sepulchre --
How warm, they were, on such a day,
You almost feel the date --
So short way off it seems --
And now -- they're Centuries from that --
How pleased they were, at what you said --
You try to touch the smile
And dip your fingers in the frost --
When was it -- Can you tell --
You asked the Company to tea --
Acquaintance -- just a few --
And chatted close with this Grand Thing
That don't remember you --
Past Bows, and Invitations --
Past Interview, and Vow --
Past what Ourself can estimate --
That -- makes the Quick of Woe!
1862
,
,
.
,
,
,
.
, ,
,
.
,
,
-- .
, ,
,
,
.
, ,
, --
!
.
The Heart asks Pleasure -- first --
And then -- Excuse from Pain --
And then -- those little Anodyness
That deaden suffering --
And then -- to go to sleep --
And then -- if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor
The privilege to die --
1862
,
-- ,
-- ,
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-- ,
,
,
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.
I've seen a Dying Eye
Run round and round a Room --
In search of Something -- as it seemed --
Then Cloudier become --
And then -- obscure with Fog --
And then -- be soldered down
Without disclosing what it be
'Twere blessed to have seen --
1862
,
,
;
-- ,
-- ,
,
.
.
The Brain, within its Groove
Runs evenly -- and true --
But let a Splinter swerve --
'Twere easier for You --
To put a Current back --
When Floods have slit the Hills --
And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves --
And trodden out the Mills --
1862
,
,
,
,
,
.
.
A Toad, can die of Light --
Death is the Common Right
Of Toads and Men --
Of Earl and Midge
The privilege --
Why swagger, then?
The Gnat's supremacy is large as Thine --
Life -- is a different Thing --
So measure Wine --
Naked of Flask -- Naked of Cask --
Bare Rhine --
Which Ruby's mine?
1862
--
--
--
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-- .
,
.
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Glee -- The great storm is over --
Four -- have recovered the Land --
Forty -- gone down together --
Into the boiling Sand --
Ring -- for the Scant Salvation --
Toll -- for the bonnie Souls --
Neighbor -- and friend -- and Bridegroom --
Spinning upon the Shoals --
How they will tell the Story --
When Winter shake the Door --
Till the Children urge --
But the Forty --
Did they -- come back no more?
Then a softness -- suffuse the Story --
And a silence -- the Teller's eye --
And the Children -- no further question --
And only the Sea -- reply --
1862
! !
-- ,
- .
!
--
, --
!
,
: " ?
?"
,
;
,
.
.
To know just how He suffered -- would be dear --
To know if any Human eyes were near
To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze --
Until it settled broad -- on Paradise --
To know if He was patient -- part content --
Was Dying as He thought -- or different --
Was it a pleasant Day to die --
And did the Sunshine face His way --
What was His furthest mind -- Of Home -- or God --
Or what the Distant say --
At news that He ceased Human Nature
Such a Day --
And Wishes -- Had He Any --
Just His Sigh -- Accented --
Had been legible -- to Me --
And was He Confident until
Ill fluttered out -- in Everlasting Well --
And if He spoke -- What name was Best --
What last
What One broke off with
At the Drowsiest --
Was He afraid -- or tranquil --
Might He know
How Conscious Consiousness -- could grow --
Till Love that was -- and Love too best to be --
Meet -- and the Junction be Eternity
1862
, -- ;
, - ,
,
-- .
, -- --
, -- --
,
, ?
-- -- ,
, , ,
?
-- ?
-- --
.
,
-- ?
-- ?
?
, , ?
-- ?
, ,
-- -- ,
-- .
.
It was too late for Man --
But early, yet, for God --
Creation -- impotent to help --
But Prayer -- remained -- Our Side --
How excellent the Heaven --
When Earth -- cannot be had --
How hospitable -- then -- the face
Of our Old Neighbor -- God --
1862
,
;
-- .
,
,
- -- !
.
Of all the Souls that stand create --
I have elected -- One --
When Sense from Spirit -- files away --
And Subterfuge -- is done --
When that which is -- and that which was --
Apart -- intrinsic -- stand --
And this brief Drama in the flesh --
Is shifted -- like a Sand --
When Figures show their royal Front --
And Mists -- are carved away,
Behold the Atom -- I preferred --
To all the lists of Clay!
1862
.
,
--
, , ,
--
""
,
--
,
.
.
One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --
One need not be a House --
The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing
Material Place --
Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting --
That Cooler Host.
Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase --
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter --
In lonesome Place --
Ourself behind ourself, concealed --
Should startle most --
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.
The Body -- borrows a Revolver --
He bolts the Door --
O'erlooking a superior spectre --
Or More --
1863
,
;
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,
,
,
.
,
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,
,
-- .
.
'Twould ease -- a Butterfly --
Elate -- a Bee --
Thou'rt neither --
Neither -- thy capacity --
But, Blossom, were I,
I would rather be
Thy moment
Than a Bee's Eternity --
Content of fading
Is enough for me --
Fade I unto Divinity --
And Dying -- Lifetime --
Ample as the Eye --
Her least attention raise on me --
1863
,
-- .
-- --
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--
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--
-- --
-- .
--
,
-- -- .
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Publication -- is the Auction
Of the Mind of Man --
Poverty -- be justifying
For so foul a thing
Possibly -- but We -- would rather
From Our Garret go
White -- Unto the White Creator --
Than invest -- our Snow --
Thought belong to Him who gave it --
Then -- to Him Who bear
Its Corporeal illustration -- Sell
The Royal Air --
In the Parcel -- Be the Merchant
Of the Heavenly Grace --
But reduce no Human Spirit
To Disgrace of Price --
1863
--
,
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,
--
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,
,
,
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--
!
.
She rose to His Requirement -- droppt
The Playthings of Her Life
To take the honorable Work
Of Woman and of Wife --
If ought She missed in Her new Day
Of Amplitude, or Awe --
Or first Prospective -- or the Gold
In using, wear away,
It lay unmentioned -- as the Sea
Develop Pearl and Weed,
But only to Himself -- be known
The Fathoms they abide --
, ,
, ,
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- --
, ,
,
,
-- ,
,
--
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Four Trees -- upon a solitary Acre --
Without Design
Or Order, or Apparent Action --
Maintain --
The Sun -- upon a Morning meets them --
The Wind.
No nearer Neighbor -- have they --
But God --
The Acre gives them -- Place.
They -- Him -- Attention of Passer by --
Of Shadow, or of Squirrel, haply --
Or Boy --
What Deed is Theirs unto the General Nature --
What Plan --
They severally -- retard -- or further --
Unknown --
-- --
,
, --
.
-- --
--
-- --
.
-- --
-- -- --
-- -- --
.
?
-- -- --
.
.
He fought like those Who've nought to lose --
Bestowed Himself to Balls
As One who for a furher Life
Had not a further Use --
Invited Death -- with bold attempt --
But Death was Coy of Him
As Other Men, were Coy of Death --
To Him -- to live -- was Doom --
His Comrades, shifted like the Flakes
When Gusts reverse the Snow --
But He -- was left alive Because
Of Greediness to die --
1863
--
,
.
--
,
--
.
, ,
,
-- ,
.
.
Presentiment -- is that long Shadow -- on the Lawn --
Indicative that Suns go down --
The Notice to the startled Grass
That Darkness -- is about to pass --
1863
-- ,
,
,
-- .
.
Grief is a Mouse --
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House --
And baffles quest --
Grief is a Thief -- quick startled --
Pricks His Ear -- report to hear
Of that Vast Dark --
That swept His Being -- back --
Grief is a Juggler -- boldest at the Play --
Lest if He flinch -- the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises -- One -- say -- or Three --
Grief is a Gourmand -- spare His luxury --
Best Grief is Tongueless -- before He'll tell --
Burn Him in the Public Square --
His Ashes -- will
Possibly -- if they refuse -- How then know --
Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable -- now.
1863
-- ,
--
--
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-- --
--
,
-- .
-- -- --
-- --
-- -- -- --
-- , -- .
, --
-- --
-- --
-- --
-- .
.
By my Window have I for Scenery
Just a Sea -- with a Stem --
If the Bird and the Farmer -- deem it a "Pine" --
The Opinion will serve -- for them --
It has no Port, nor a "Line" -- but the Jays --
That split their route to the Sky --
Or a Squirrel, whose giddy Peninsula
May be easier reached -- this way --
For Inlands -- the Earth is the under side --
And the upper side -- is the Sun.
And its Commerce -- if Commerce it have --
Of Spice -- I infer from the Odors borne --
Of its Voice -- to affirm -- when the Wind is within --
Can the Dumb -- define the Divine?
The Definition of Melody -- is --
That Definition is none --
It -- suggests to our Faith.
They -- suggest to our Sight.
When the latter -- is put away
I shall meet with Conviction I somewhere met
That Immortality.
Was the Pine at my Window a "Fellow
Of the Royal" Infinity?
Apprehensions -- are God's introductions --
To be hallowed -- accordingly --
1863
-- .
-- "",
.
, --,
--
-- .
-- , ,
-- , .
-- --
-- .
-- , .
?
-- --
.
-- .
-- .
-- ,
, -- --
.
--
?
--
-- .
.
This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
Is traversing the interval
Experience between
And most profound experiment
Appointed unto Men --
How adequate unto itself
Its properties shall be
Itself unto itself and none
Shall make discovery.
Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be --
Attended by a single Hound
Its own identity.
1864
,
,
- ,
--
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!
--
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-- ,
-- .
.
We outgrow love, like other things
And put it in the Drawer --
Till it an Antique fashion shows --
Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
1864
,
,
.
The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair --
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere --
The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire --
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor --
1864
,
,
, , ,
-- .
, ,
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Death is a Dialogue between
The Spirit and the Dust.
"Dissolve" says Death -- The Spirit "Sir
I have another Trust" --
Death doubts it -- Argues from the Ground --
The Spirit turns away
Just laying off for evidence,
An Overcoat of Clay.
1864
--
.
" !" -- . :
" ".
, ,
,
.
.
The Soul should always stand ajar
That if the Heaven inquire
He will not be obliged to wait
Or shy of troubling Her
Depart, before the Host have slid
The Bolt unto the Door --
To search for the accomplished Guest,
Her Visitor, no more --
1865
,
,
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,
,
.
.
Except the smaller size
No lives are round --
These -- hurry to a sphere
And show and end --
The larger -- slower grow
And later hang --
The Summers of Hesperides
Are long.
1866
--
.
--
!
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The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go --
A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us, is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
1866
-- .
,
,
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,
--
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.
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb suprise.
As Lightning to the Children eased
With expanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind --
1868
, --
.
.
,
,
, .
.
Remembrance has a Rear and Front --
'Tis something like a House --
It has a Garret also
For Refuse and the Mouse.
Besides the deepest Cellar
That ever Mason laid --
Look to it by its Fathoms
Ourselves be not pursued --
1871
--
, ,
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--
,
.
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Too few the mornings be,
Too scant the nigthts.
No lodging can be had
For the delights
That come to earth to stay,
But no apartment find
And ride away.
1871
,
, ,
.
.
He preached upon 'Breadth' till it argued him narrow --
The Broad are too broad to define
And of 'Truth' until it proclaimed him a Liar --
The Truth never flaunted a Sign --
Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
As Gold the Pyrites would shun --
What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
To meet so enabled a Man!
1872
"", --
;
"", , --
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--
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!
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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
1872
,
,
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,
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A Deed knocks first at Thought
And then -- it knocks at Will.
That is the manufacturing spot
And Will at Home and Well.
It then goes out an Act,
Or is entombed so still
That only to the ear of God
Its Doom is audible --
1891
,
,
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,
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In this short Life
That only lasts an hour
How much -- how little -- is
Within our power
1873
,
, ,
-- --
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She laid her docile Crescent down
And this confiding Stone
Still states to Dates that have forgot
The News that she is gone --
So constant to its stolid trust,
The Shaft that never knew --
It shames the Constancy that fled
Before its emblem flew --
1877
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, ,
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,
,
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I have no Life but this --
To lead it here --
Nor any Death -- but lest
Dispelled from there --
Nor tie to Earth to come --
Nor Action new --
Except through this extent --
The Realm of you --
1877
--
,
--
,
--
.
.
Look back on Time, with kindly eyes --
He doubtless did his best --
How softly sinks that trembling sun
In Human Nature's West --
1879
,
, ;
!
.
Who has not found the Heaven -- below
Will fail of it above --
For Angels rent the House next ours,
Wherever we remove --
1883
,
,
.
.
He ate and drank the precious Words --
His Spirit grew robust --
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was Dust --
He danced along the dingy Days
And this Bequest of Wings
Was but a Book -- What Liberty
A loosened spirit brings --
1883
,
.
, ,
.
,
.
!
.
There came a Wind like a Bugle --
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the Windows and the Doors
As from an Emerald Ghost --
The Doom's electric Moccasin
That very instant passed --
On a strange Mob of panting Trees
And Fences fled away
And Rivers where the Houses ran
Those looked that lived -- that Day --
The Bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings told --
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the World!
1883
--
--
--
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,
,
--
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,
,
-- --
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, .
--
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.
Though the great Waters sleep,
That they are still the Deep,
We cannot doubt --
No vacillating God
Ignited this Abode
To put it out --
1884
.
, ,
--
, ,
.
.
Lightly stepped a yellow star
To its lofty place --
Loosed the Moon her silver hat
From her lustral Face --
All of Evening softly lit
As an Astral Hall --
Father, I observed to Heaven,
You are punctual.
?
,
,
--
,
, .
.
My life closed twice before its close --
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
?
,
, ,
:
- ,
, .
-- ,
,
, .
.
Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene
Thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
?
, ,
, ,
, ,
, ,
,
, , ,
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! !
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Last-modified: Wed, 05 Apr 2000 16:35:55 GMT