Emily Dickinson

Two — were immortal twice —
The privilege of few —
Eternity — obtained — in Time —
Reversed Divinity —

That our ignoble Eyes
The quality conceive
Of Paradise superlative —
Through their Comparative.
-Emily Dickinson

Two Lengths has every Day —
Its absolute extent
And Area superior
By Hope or Horror lent —

Eternity will be
Velocity or Pause
At Fundamental Signals
From Fundamental Laws.

To die is not to go —
On Doom’s consummate Chart
No Territory new is staked —
Remain thou as thou art.
-Emily Dickinson

Two Travellers perishing in Snow
The Forests as they froze
Together heard them strengthening
Each other with the words

That Heaven if Heaven — must contain
What Either left behind
And then the cheer too solemn grew
For language, and the wind

Long steps across the features took
That Love had touched the Morn
With reverential Hyacinth —
The taleless Days went on

Till Mystery impatient drew
And those They left behind
Led absent, were procured of Heaven
As Those first furnished, said —

Two butterflies went out at Noon —
And waltzed upon a Farm —
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested, on a Beam —

And then — together bore away
Upon a shining Sea —
Though never yet, in any Port —
Their coming, mentioned — be —

If spoken by the distant Bird —
If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman —
No notice — was — to me —

Two swimmers wrestled on the spar —
Until the morning sun —
When One — turned smiling to the land —
Oh God! the Other One!

The stray ships — passing —
Spied a face —
Upon the waters borne —
With eyes in death — still begging raised —
And hands — beseeching — thrown!
-Emily Dickinson

Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality,
Nay, it is Deity —

Unable they that love — to die
For Love reforms Vitality
Into Divinity.
-Emily Dickinson

Uncertain lease — develops lustre
On Time
Uncertain Grasp, appreciation
Of Sum —

The shorter Fate — is oftener the chiefest
Because
Inheritors upon a tenure
Prize —
-Emily Dickinson

Under the Light, yet under,
Under the Grass and the Dirt,
Under the Beetle’s Cellar
Under the Clover’s Root,

Further than Arm could stretch
Were it Giant long,
Further than Sunshine could
Were the Day Year long,

Over the Light, yet over,
Over the Arc of the Bird —
Over the Comet’s chimney —
Over the Cubit’s Head,

Further than Guess can gallop
Further than Riddle ride —
Oh for a Disc to the Distance
Between Ourselves and the Dead!

Undue Significance a starving man attaches
To Food —
Far off — He sighs — and therefore — Hopeless —
And therefore — Good —

Partaken — it relieves — indeed —
But proves us
That Spices fly
In the Receipt — It was the Distance —
Was Savory —
-Emily Dickinson

Unfulfilled to Observation —
Incomplete — to Eye —
But to Faith — a Revolution
In Locality —

Unto Us — the Suns extinguish —
To our Opposite —
New Horizons — they embellish —
Fronting Us — with Night.
-Emily Dickinson

Unit, like Death, for Whom?
True, like the Tomb,
Who tells no secret
Told to Him —
The Grave is strict —
Tickets admit
Just two — the Bearer —
And the Borne —
And seat — just One —
The Living — tell —
The Dying — but a Syllable —
The Coy Dead — None —
No Chatter — here — no tea —
So Babbler, and Bohea — stay there —
But Gravity — and Expectation — and Fear —
A

Until the Desert knows
That Water grows
His Sands suffice
But let him once suspect
That Caspian Fact
Sahara dies

Utmost is relative —
Have not or Have
Adjacent sums
Enough — the first Abode
On the familiar Road
Galloped in Dreams —
-Emily Dickinson

Unto a broken heart
No other one may go
Without the high prerogative
Itself hath suffered too.
-Emily Dickinson

Unto like Story — Trouble has enticed me —
How Kinsmen fell —
Brothers and Sister — who preferred the Glory —
And their young will
Bent to the Scaffold, or in Dungeons — chanted —
Till God’s full time —
When they let go the ignominy — smiling —
And Shame went still —

Unto guessed Crests, my moaning fancy, leads me,
Worn fair
By Heads rejected — in the lower country —
Of honors there —
Such spirit makes

Unto my Books — so good to turn —
Far ends of tired Days —
It half endears the Abstinence —
And Pain — is missed — in Praise —

As Flavors — cheer Retarded Guests
With Banquettings to be —
So Spices — stimulate the time
Till my small Library —

It may be Wilderness — without —
Far feet of failing Men —
But Holiday — excludes the night —
And it is Bells — within —

I thank

Unto the Whole — how add?
Has “All” a further realm —
Or Utmost an Ulterior?
Oh, Subsidy of Balm!
-Emily Dickinson

Unworthy of her Breast
Though by that scathing test
What Soul survive?
By her exacting light
How counterfeit the white
We chiefly have!
-Emily Dickinson

Upon Concluded Lives
There’s nothing cooler falls —
Than Life’s sweet Calculations —
The mixing Bells and Palls —

Make Lacerating Tune —
To Ears the Dying Side —
‘Tis Coronal — and Funeral —
Saluting — in the Road —
-Emily Dickinson

Up Life’s Hill with my my little Bundle
If I prove it steep —
If a Discouragement withhold me —
If my newest step

Older feel than the Hope that prompted —
Spotless be from blame
Heart that proposed as Heart that accepted
Homelessness, for Home —
-Emily Dickinson

Upon a Lilac Sea
To toss incessantly
His Plush Alarm
Who fleeing from the Spring
The Spring avenging fling
To Dooms of Balm
-Emily Dickinson

Upon his Saddle sprung a Bird
And crossed a thousand Trees
Before a Fence without a Fare
His Fantasy did please
And then he lifted up his Throat
And squandered such a Note
A Universe that overheard
Is stricken by it yet —
-Emily Dickinson

Upon the gallows hung a wretch,
Too sullied for the hell
To which the law entitled him.
As nature’s curtain fell
The one who bore him tottered in , —
For this was woman’s son.
“‘Twere all I had,” she stricken gasped —
Oh, what a livid boon!
-Emily Dickinson

Victory comes late —
And is held low to freezing lips —
Too rapt with frost
To take it —
How sweet it would have tasted —
Just a Drop —
Was God so economical?
His Table’s spread too high for Us —
Unless We dine on tiptoe —
Crumbs — fit such little mouths —
Cherries — suit Robbins —
The Eagle’s Golden Breakfast strangles — Them —
God keep His Oath to Sparrows —
Who of little Love — know

Volcanoes be in Sicily
And South America
I judge from my Geography —
Volcanos nearer here
A Lava step at any time
Am I inclined to climb —
A Crater I may contemplate
Vesuvius at Home.
-Emily Dickinson

Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered Footman
Might dare to touch it now!

Wait till in Everlasting Robes
That Democrat is dressed,
Then prate about “Preferment” —
And “Station,” and the rest!

Around this quiet Courtier
Obsequious Angels wait!
Full royal is his Retinue!
Full purple is his state!

A Lord, might dare to lift the Hat
To such a Modest Clay
Since that My Lord, “the Lord of Lords”
Receives unblushingly!