Emily Dickinson

One of the ones that Midas touched
Who failed to touch us all
Was that confiding Prodigal
The reeling Oriole –

So drunk he disavows it
With badinage divine –
So dazzling we mistake him
For an alighting Mine –

A Pleader – a Dissembler –
An Epicure – a Thief –
Betimes an Oratorio –
An Ecstasy in chief –

The Jesuit of Orchards
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire Attar
For his decamping wants –

The splendor of a Burmah
The Meteor

One thing of it we borrow
And promise to return —
The Booty and the Sorrow
Its Sweetness to have known —
One thing of it we covet —
The power to forget —
The Anguish of the Avarice
Defrays the Dross of it —
-Emily Dickinson

Only God — detect the Sorrow —
Only God —
The Jehovahs — are no Babblers —
Unto God —
God the Son — Confide it —
Still secure —
God the Spirit’s Honor —
Just as sure —
-Emily Dickinson

Only a Shrine, but Mine —
I made the Taper shine —
Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come,
Regard a Nun —

Thou knowest every Woe —
Needless to tell thee — so —
But can’st thou do
The Grace next to it — heal?
That looks a harder skill to us —
Still — just as easy, if it be thy Will
To thee — Grant me —
Thou knowest, though, so Why tell thee?

Opinion is a flitting thing,
But Truth, outlasts the Sun —
If then we cannot own them both —
Possess the oldest one —
-Emily Dickinson

Our journey had advanced —
Our feet were almost come
To that odd Fork in Being’s Road —
Eternity — by Term —

Our pace took sudden awe —
Our feet — reluctant — led —
Before — were Cities — but Between —
The Forest of the Dead —

Retreat — was out of Hope —
Behind — a Sealed Route —
Eternity’s White Flag — Before —
And God — at every Gate —

Our little Kinsmen — after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.

A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.

As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
-Emily Dickinson

Our little secrets slink away —
Beside God’s shall not tell —
He kept his word a Trillion years
And might we not as well —
But for the niggardly delight
To make each other stare
Is there no sweet beneath the sun
With this that may compare —
-Emily Dickinson

Our lives are Swiss —
So still — so Cool —
Till some odd afternoon
The Alps neglect their Curtains
And we look farther on!

Italy stands the other side!
While like a guard between —
The solemn Alps —
The siren Alps
Forever intervene!
-Emily Dickinson

Our own possessions — though our own —
‘Tis well to hoard anew —
Remembering the Dimensions
Of Possibility.
-Emily Dickinson

Ourselves we do inter with sweet derision.
The channel of the dust who once achieves
Invalidates the balm of that religion
That doubts as fervently as it believes.
-Emily Dickinson

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 —
By 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

Our share of night to bear —
Our share of morning —
Our blank in bliss to fill
Our blank in scorning —

Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way!
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards — Day!
-Emily Dickinson

Out of sight? What of that?
See the Bird — reach it!
Curve by Curve — Sweep by Sweep —
Round the Steep Air —
Danger! What is that to Her?
Better ’tis to fail — there —
Than debate — here —

Blue is Blue — the World through —
Amber — Amber — Dew — Dew —
Seek — Friend — and see —
Heaven is shy of Earth — that’s all —
Bashful Heaven — thy Lovers

Over and over, like a Tune —
The Recollection plays —
Drums off the Phantom Battlements
Cornets of Paradise —

Snatches, from Baptized Generations —
Cadences too grand
But for the Justified Processions
At the Lord’s Right hand.
-Emily Dickinson

Over the fence —
Strawberries — grow —
Over the fence —
I could climb — if I tried, I know —
Berries are nice!

But — if I stained my Apron —
God would certainly scold!
Oh, dear, — I guess if He were a Boy —
He’d — climb — if He could!
-Emily Dickinson

Pain — expands the Time —
Ages coil within
The minute Circumference
Of a single Brain —

Pain contracts — the Time —
Occupied with Shot
Gamuts of Eternities
Are as they were not —
-Emily Dickinson

Pain — has an Element of Blank —
It cannot recollect
When it begun — or if there were
A time when it was not —

It has no Future — but itself —
Its Infinite contain
Its Past — enlightened to perceive
New Periods — of Pain.
-Emily Dickinson

Pain has but one Acquaintance
And that is Death —
Each one unto the other
Society enough.

Pain is the Junior Party
By just a Second’s right —
Death tenderly assists Him
And then absconds from Sight.
-Emily Dickinson

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!
-Emily Dickinson

Paradise is of the option.
Whosoever will
Own in Eden notwithstanding
Adam and Repeal.
-Emily Dickinson

Paradise is that old mansion
Many owned before —
Occupied by each an instant
Then reversed the Door —
Bliss is frugal of her Leases
Adam taught her Thrift
Bankrupt once through his excesses —
-Emily Dickinson

Partake as doth the Bee,
Abstemiously.
The Rose is an Estate —
In Sicily.
-Emily Dickinson

Parting with Thee reluctantly,
That we have never met,
A Heart sometimes a Foreigner,
Remembers it forgot –
-Emily Dickinson

Pass to they Rendezvous of Light,
Pangless except for us —
Who slowly for the Mystery
Which thou hast leaped across!
-Emily Dickinson