Emily Dickinson

To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights,
What must the Midnights — be!
-Emily Dickinson

Today or this noon
She dwelt so close
I almost touched her —
Tonight she lies
Past neighborhood
And bough and steeple,
Now past surmise.
-Emily Dickinson

Too cold is this
To warm with Sun —
Too stiff to bended be,
To joint this Agate were a work —
Outstaring Masonry —

How went the Agile Kernel out
Contusion of the Husk
Nor Rip, nor wrinkle indicate
But just an Asterisk.
-Emily Dickinson

Too few the mornings be,
Too scant the nights.
No lodging can be had
For the delights
That come to earth to stay,
But no apartment find
And ride away.
-Emily Dickinson

Too happy Time dissolves itself
And leaves no remnant by —
‘Tis Anguish not a Feather hath
Or too much weight to fly —
-Emily Dickinson

Too little way the House must lie
From every Human Heart
That holds in undisputed Lease
A white inhabitant —

Too narrow is the Right between —
Too imminent the chance —
Each Consciousness must emigrate
And lose its neighbor once —
-Emily Dickinson

Too scanty ’twas to die for you,
The merest Greek could that.
The living, Sweet, is costlier —
I offer even that —

The Dying, is a trifle, past,
But living, this include
The dying multifold — without
The Respite to be dead.
-Emily Dickinson

Touch lightly Nature’s sweet Guitar
Unless thou know’st the Tune
Or every Bird will point at thee
Because a Bard too soon —
-Emily Dickinson

Tried always and Condemned by thee
Permit me this reprieve
That dying I may earn the look
For which I cease to live —
-Emily Dickinson

Triumph — may be of several kinds —
There’s Triumph in the Room
When that Old Imperator — Death —
By Faith
-Emily Dickinson

Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met Somebody’s little Boy
Asked him his name — He lisped me “Trotwood” —
Lady, did He belong to thee?

Would it comfort — to know I met him —
And that He didn’t look afraid?
I couldn’t weep — for so many smiling
New Acquaintance — this Baby made —
-Emily Dickinson

Trust adjust her “Peradventure” –
Phantoms entered “and not you.”
-Emily Dickinson

Trust in the Unexpected —
By this — was William Kidd
Persuaded of the Buried Gold —
As One had testified —

Through this — the old Philosopher —
His Talismanic Stone
Discerned — still withholden
To effort undivine —

‘Twas this — allured Columbus —
When Genoa — withdrew
Before an Apparition
Baptized America —

The Same — afflicted Thomas —
When Deity assured
‘Twas better — the perceiving not —
Provided it believed —

Trusty as the stars
Who quit their shining working
Prompt as when I lit them
In Genesis’ new house,
Durable as dawn
Whose antiquated blossom
Makes a world’s suspense
Perish and rejoice.
-Emily Dickinson

Truth — is as old as God —
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity —

And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.
-Emily Dickinson

‘Twas here my summer paused
What ripeness after then
To other scene or other soul
My sentence had begun.

To winter to remove
With winter to abide
Go manacle your icicle
Against your Tropic Bride.
-Emily Dickinson

‘Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms —
It had the Tassels on —

I thought how yellow it would look —
When Richard went to mill —
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how Red — Apples wedged
The Stubble’s joints between —
And the Carts stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in —

I

‘Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came —
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home —
‘Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps esoteric Time.
-Emily Dickinson

‘Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

Toyed coolly with the final inch
Of your delirious Hem —
And you dropt, lost,
When something broke —
And let you from a Dream —

As if a Goblin with a Gauge —
Kept measuring the Hours —
Until you felt your Second
Weigh, helpless, in his Paws —

And not a Sinew — stirred — could help,
And sense was setting numb

‘Twas such a little — little boat
That toddled down the bay!
‘Twas such a gallant — gallant sea
That beckoned it away!

‘Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the Coast —
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!
-Emily Dickinson

‘Twas Love — not me —
Oh punish — pray —
The Real one died for Thee —
Just Him — not me —

Such Guilt — to love Thee — most!
Doom it beyond the Rest —
Forgive it — last —
‘Twas base as Jesus — most!

Let Justice not mistake —
We Two — looked so alike —
Which was the Guilty Sake —
‘Twas Love’s — Now Strike!

‘Twas my one Glory —
Let it be
Remembered
I was owned of Thee —
-Emily Dickinson

‘Twas the old — road — through pain —
That unfrequented — one —
With many a turn — and thorn —
That stops — at Heaven —

This — was the Town — she passed —
There — where she — rested — last —
Then — stepped more fast —
The little tracks — close prest —
Then — not so swift —
Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow —
Then — stopped

‘Twas warm — at first — like Us —
Until there crept upon
A Chill — like frost upon a Glass —
Till all the scene — be gone.

The Forehead copied Stone —
The Fingers grew too cold
To ache — and like a Skater’s Brook —
The busy eyes — congealed —

It straightened — that was all —
It crowded Cold to Cold —
It multiplied indifference —
As Pride were all it could —

And even when

Twice had Summer her fair Verdure
Proffered to the Plain —
Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture
On the Rivers been —

Two full Autumns for the Squirrel
Bounteous prepared —
Nature, Had’st thou not a Berry
For thy wandering Bird?
-Emily Dickinson