Emily Dickinson

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry —
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll —
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.
-Emily Dickinson

There is no Silence in the Earth — so silent
As that endured
Which uttered, would discourage Nature
And haunt the World.
-Emily Dickinson

There is strength in proving that it can be borne
Although it tear —
What are the sinews of such cordage for
Except to bear
The ship might be of satin had it not to fight —
To walk on seas requires cedar Feet
-Emily Dickinson

There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons —
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes —

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us —
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are —

None may teach it — Any —
‘Tis the Seal Despair —
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air —

When it comes, the Landscape listens —
Shadows — hold their breath —
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death —

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 —

There’s something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast —
And will not tell its name.

Some touch it, and some kiss it —
Some chafe its idle hand —
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!

I would not weep if I were they —
How rude in one to sob!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!

While simple-hearted neighbors
Chat of the “Early dead” —
We — prone

There’s the Battle of Burgoyne —
Over, every Day,
By the Time that Man and Beast
Put their work away
“Sunset” sounds majestic —
But that solemn War
Could you comprehend it
You would chastened stare —
-Emily Dickinson

These are the Nights that Beetles love —
From Eminence remote
Drives ponderous perpendicular
His figure intimate
The terror of the Children
The merriment of men
Depositing his Thunder
He hoists abroad again —
A Bomb upon the Ceiling
Is an improving thing —
It keeps the nerves progressive
Conjecture flourishing —
Too dear the Summer evening
Without discreet alarm —
Supplied by Entomology
With its remaining charm —

These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns —
Her invitation broad
To Whosoever famishing
To taste her mystic Bread —

These are the rites of Nature’s House —
The Hospitality
That opens with an equal width
To Beggar and to Bee

For Sureties of her staunch Estate
Her undecaying Cheer
The Purple in the East is set
And in the North, the Star —
-Emily

These are the days that Reindeer love
And pranks the Northern star —
This is the Sun’s objective,
And Finland of the Year.
-Emily Dickinson

These are the days when Birds come back —
A very few — a Bird or two —
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old — old sophistries of June —
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee —
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear —
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last

These Fevered Days — to take them to the Forest
Where Waters cool around the mosses crawl —
And shade is all that devastates the stillness
Seems it sometimes this would be all —
-Emily Dickinson

These held their Wick above the West —
Till when the Red declined —
Or how the Amber aided it —
Defied to be defined —

Then waned without disparagement
In a dissembling Hue
That would not let the Eye decide
Did it abide or no —
-Emily Dickinson

These — saw Visions —
Latch them softly —
These — held Dimples —
Smooth them slow —
This — addressed departing accents —
Quick — Sweet Mouth — to miss thee so —

This — We stroked —
Unnumbered Satin —
These — we held among our own —
Fingers of the Slim Aurora —
Not so arrogant — this Noon —

These — adjust — that ran to meet us —
Pearl — for Stocking — Pearl for Shoe

These Strangers, in a foreign World,
Protection asked of me —
Befriend them, lest Yourself in Heaven
Be found a Refugee —
-Emily Dickinson

These tested Our Horizon —
Then disappeared
As Birds before achieving
A Latitude.

Our Retrospection of Them
A fixed Delight,
But our Anticipation
A Dice — a Doubt —
-Emily Dickinson

They ask but our Delight —
The Darlings of the Soil
And grant us all their Countenance
For a penurious smile.
-Emily Dickinson

They called me to the Window, for
” ‘Twas Sunset” — Some one said —
I only saw a Sapphire Farm —
And just a Single Herd —

Of Opal Cattle — feeding far
Upon so vain a Hill —
As even while I looked — dissolved —
Nor Cattle were — nor Soil —

But in their stead — a Sea — displayed —
And Ships — of such a size
As Crew of Mountains — could afford

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.
-Emily Dickinson

They have a little Odor — that to me
Is metre — nay — ’tis melody —
And spiciest at fading — indicate —
A Habit — of a Laureate —
-Emily Dickinson

They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man —
His fingers are the size of fists —
His fists, the size of men —

And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand —
Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,

So trust him, Comrade —
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.

They might not need me — yet they might —
I’ll let my Heart be just in sight —
A smile so small as mine might be
Precisely their necessity —
-Emily Dickinson

They put Us far apart —
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula —
We signified “These see” —

They took away our Eyes —
They thwarted Us with Guns —
“I see Thee” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs —

With Dungeons — They devised —
But through their thickest skill —
And their opaquest Adamant —
Our Souls saw — just as well —

They summoned Us to die —
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet —
Condemned

They say that “Time assuages” —
Time never did assuage —
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age —

Time is a Test of Trouble —
But not a Remedy —
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady —
-Emily Dickinson

They shut me up in Prose —
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet —
Because they liked me “still” —

Still! Could themself have peeped —
And seen my Brain — go round —
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound —

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity —
And laugh — No more have I —