Emily Dickinson

The butterfly obtains
But little sympathy
Though favorably mentioned
In Entomology —

Because he travels freely
And wears a proper coat
The circumspect are certain
That he is dissolute —

Had he the homely scutcheon
Of modest Industry
‘Twere fitter certifying
For Immortality —
-Emily Dickinson

The Chemical conviction
That Nought be lost
Enable in Disaster
My fractured Trust –

The Faces of the Atoms
If I shall see
How more the Finished Creatures
Departed me!
-Emily Dickinson

The Child’s faith is new —
Whole — like His Principle —
Wide — like the Sunrise
On fresh Eyes —
Never had a Doubt —
Laughs — at a Scruple —
Believes all sham
But Paradise —

Credits the World —
Deems His Dominion
Broadest of Sovereignties —
And Caesar — mean —
In the Comparison —
Baseless Emperor —
Ruler of Nought —
Yet swaying all —

Grown bye and bye
To hold mistaken
His pretty estimates
Of Prickly Things
He gains the skill
Sorrowful — as certain

The Clock strikes one that just struck two —
Some schism in the Sum —
A Vagabond for Genesis
Has wrecked the Pendulum —
-Emily Dickinson

The Clouds their Backs together laid
The North begun to push
The Forests galloped till they fell
The Lightning played like mice

The Thunder crumbled like a stuff
How good to be in Tombs
Where Nature’s Temper cannot reach
Nor missile ever comes
-Emily Dickinson

The Clover’s simple Fame
Remembered of the Cow —
Is better than enameled Realms
Of notability.
Renown perceives itself
And that degrades the Flower —
The Daisy that has looked behind
Has compromised its power —
-Emily Dickinson

The Color of a Queen, is this —
The Color of a Sun
At setting — this and Amber —
Beryl — and this, at Noon —

And when at night — Auroran widths
Fling suddenly on men —
‘Tis this — and Witchcraft — nature keeps
A Rank — for Iodine —
-Emily Dickinson

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

The Crickets sang
And set the Sun
And Workmen finished one by one
Their Seam the Day upon.

The low Grass loaded with the Dew
The Twilight stood, as Strangers do
With Hat in Hand, polite and new
To stay as if, or go.

A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,
A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so the Night became.

The competitions of the sky
Corrodeless ply.
-Emily Dickinson

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!

The Dandelion’s pallid tube
Astonishes the Grass,
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas —

The tube uplifts a signal Bud
And then a shouting Flower, —
The Proclamation of the Suns
That sepulture is o’er.
-Emily Dickinson

The Day came slow — till Five o’clock —
Then sprang before the Hills
Like Hindered Rubies — or the Light
A Sudden Musket — spills —

The Purple could not keep the East —
The Sunrise shook abroad
Like Breadths of Topaz — packed a Night —
The Lady just unrolled —

The Happy Winds — their Timbrels took —
The Birds — in docile Rows
Arranged themselves around their Prince
The Wind — is Prince of Those —

The

The Day grew small, surrounded tight
By early, stooping Night —
The Afternoon in Evening deep
Its Yellow shortness dropt —
The Winds went out their martial ways
The Leaves obtained excuse —
November hung his Granite Hat
Upon a nail of Plush —
-Emily Dickinson

The Day she goes
Or Day she stays
Are equally supreme —
Existence has a stated width
Departed, or at Home —
-Emily Dickinson

The Days that we can spare
Are those a Function die
Or Friend or Nature — stranded then
In our Economy

Our Estimates a Scheme —
Our Ultimates a Sham —
We let go all of Time without
Arithmetic of him —
-Emily Dickinson

The Day that I was crowned
Was like the other Days —
Until the Coronation came —
And then — ’twas Otherwise —

As Carbon in the Coal
And Carbon in the Gem
Are One — and yet the former
Were dull for Diadem —

I rose, and all was plain —
But when the Day declined
Myself and It, in Majesty
Were equally — adorned —

The Grace that I — was chose —
To Me — surpassed the Crown
That

The Day undressed — Herself —
Her Garter — was of Gold —
Her Petticoat — of Purple plain —
Her Dimities — as old

Exactly — as the World —
And yet the newest Star —
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled — much as Her —

Too near to God — to pray —
Too near to Heaven — to fear —
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care —

Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On

The Definition of Beauty is
That Definition is none –
Of Heaven, easing Analysis,
Since Heaven and He are one.
-Emily Dickinson

The Devil — had he fidelity
Would be the best friend —
Because he has ability —
But Devils cannot mend —
Perfidy is the virtue
That would but he resign
The Devil — without question
Were thoroughly divine
-Emily Dickinson

The difference between Despair
And Fear — is like the One
Between the instant of a Wreck
And when the Wreck has been —

The Mind is smooth — no Motion —
Contented as the Eye
Upon the Forehead of a Bust —
That knows — it cannot see —
-Emily Dickinson

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

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

The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man
For is it not his Bed —
His Advocate — his Edifice?
How safe his fallen Head
In her disheveled Sanctity —
Above him is the sky —
Oblivion bending over him
And Honor leagues away.
-Emily Dickinson

The Doomed — regard the Sunrise
With different Delight —
Because — when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it —

The Man — to die — tomorrow —
Harks for the Meadow Bird —
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head —

Joyful — to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored — Day —
Joyful — for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!