Ambition cannot find him68
Ambition cannot find him.
Affection doesn't know
How many leagues of nowhere
Lie between them now.
Yesterday, undistinguished!
Eminent Today
For our mutual hone, Immortality!
Emily Dickinson
Although I put away his life366
Although I put away his life—
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand
That sowed the flower, he preferred—
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path—
Or played his chosen tune—
On Lute the least—the latest—
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe'er delighted it,
I never would let go—
The foot to bear his errand—
A little Boot I know—
Would leap abroad like Antelope—
With just the grant to do—
His weariest Commandment—
A sweeter to obey,
Than "Hide and Seek"—
Or skip to Flutes—
Or all Day, chase the Bee—
Your Servant, Sir, will weary—
The Surgeon, will not come—
The World, will have its own—to do—
The Dust, will vex your Fame—
The Cold will force your tightest door
Some February Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay—
That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me—
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first—to me.
Emily Dickinson
All these my banners be22
All these my banners be.
I sow my pageantry
In May—
It rises train by train—
Then sleeps in state again—
My chancel—all the plain
Today.
To lose—if one can find again—
To miss—if one shall meet—
The Burglar cannot rob—then—
The Broker cannot cheat.
So build the hillocks gaily
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine—
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know—
Let us chant it softly—
"There is no more snow!"
To him who keeps an Orchis' heart—
The swamps are pink with June.
Emily Dickinson
All overgrown by cunning moss148
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of "Currer Bell"
In quiet "Haworth" laid.
Gathered from many wanderings—
Gethsemane can tell
Thro' what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
Soft falls the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear—
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,
When "Bronte" entered there!
Emily Dickinson
All forgot for recollecting966
All forgot for recollecting
Just a paltry One—
All forsook, for just a Stranger's
New Accompanying—
Grace of Wealth, and Grace of Station
Less accounted than
An unknown Esteem possessing—
Estimate—Who can—
Home effaced—Her faces dwindled—
Nature—altered small—
Sun—if shone—or Storm—if shattered—
Overlooked I all—
Dropped—my fate—a timid Pebble—
In thy bolder Sea—
Prove—me—Sweet—if I regret it—
Prove Myself—of Thee—
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson All Circumstances
All Circumstances are the Frame820
All Circumstances are the Frame
In which His Face is set—
All Latitudes exist for His
Sufficient Continent—
The Light His Action, and the Dark
The Leisure of His Will—
In Him Existence serve or set
A Force illegible.
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson All but Death can be Adjusted
All but Death, can be Adjusted749
All but Death, can be Adjusted—
Dynasties repaired—
Systems—settled in their Sockets—
Citadels—dissolved—
Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs—
Death—unto itself—Exception—
Is exempt from Change—
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Ah Teneriffe
Ah, Teneriffe!666
Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!
Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—
Thigh of Granite—and thew—of Steel—
Heedless—alike—of pomp—or parting
Ah, Teneriffe!
I'm kneeling—still—
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Ah Moon and Star!
Ah, Moon—and Star!240
Ah, Moon—and Star!
You are very far—
But were no one
Farther than you—
Do you think I'd stop
For a Firmament—
Or a Cubit—or so?
I could borrow a Bonnet
Of the Lark—
And a Chamois' Silver Boot—
And a stirrup of an Antelope—
And be with you—Tonight!
But, Moon, and Star,
Though you're very far—
There is one—farther than you—
He—is more than a firmament—from Me—
So I can never go!
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Again
Again—his voice is at the door663
Again—his voice is at the door—
I feel the old Degree—
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one—as me—
I take a flower—as I go—
My face to justify—
He never saw me—in this life—
I might surprise his eye!
I cross the Hall with mingled steps—
I—silent—pass the door—
I look on all this world contains—
Just his face—nothing more!
We talk in careless—and it toss—
A kind of plummet strain—
Each—sounding—shyly—
Just—how—deep—
The other's one—had been—
We walk—I leave my Dog—at home—
A tender—thoughtful Moon—
Goes with us—just a little way—
And—then—we are alone—
Alone—if Angels are "alone"—
First time they try the sky!
Alone—if those "veiled faces"—be—
We cannot count—on High!
I'd give—to live that hour—again—
The purple—in my Vein—
But He must count the drops—himself—
My price for every stain!
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- (341)After great pain, a formal feeling comes --
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs
The stiff Heart questions, was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round --
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought --
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone --
This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow --
First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go --
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson After Great Pain
After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling ComesAfter great pain, a formal feeling comes--
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Toombs--
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round--
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought--
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone--
This is the Hour of Lead--
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow--
First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson After a hundred years
After a hundred yearsAfter a hundred years
Nobody knows the place,--
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.
Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way,--
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Afraid Of whom am I afraid
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?608
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?
Not Death—for who is He?
The Porter of my Father's Lodge
As much abasheth me!
Of Life? 'Twere odd I fear [a] thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or two existences—
As Deity decree—
Of Resurrection? Is the East
Afraid to trust the Morn
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my Crown!
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Adrift A little boat adrift
Adrift! A little boat adrift!30
Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?
So Sailors say—on yesterday—
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.
So angels say—on yesterday—
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat—o'erspent with gales—
Retrimmed its masts—redecked its sails—
And shot—exultant on!
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson Absent Place an April Day
Absent Place—an April Day927
Absent Place—an April Day—
Daffodils a-blow
Homesick curiosity
To the Souls that snow—
Drift may block within it
Deeper than without—
Daffodil delight but
Him it duplicate—
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Absence disembodies—so does Death860
Absence disembodies—so does Death
Hiding individuals from the Earth
Superposition helps, as well as love—
Tenderness decreases as we prove—
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Abraham to Kill HimAbraham to kill him
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—
Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—
Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a mastiff
Manners may prevail.
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson A Wounded Deer leaps highest
A Wounded Deer—leaps highest165
A Wounded Deer—leaps highest—
I've heard the Hunter tell—
'Tis but the Ecstasy of death—
And then the Brake is still!
The Smitten Rock that gushes!
The trampled Steel that springs!
A Cheek is always redder
Just where the Hectic stings!
Mirth is the Mail of Anguish
In which it Cautious Arm,
Lest anybody spy the blood
And "you're hurt" exclaim!
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson A Wife at daybreak I shall be
A Wife—at daybreak I shall be461
A Wife—at daybreak I shall be—
Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me?
At Midnight, I am but a Maid,
How short it takes to make a Bride—
Then—Midnight, I have passed from thee
Unto the East, and Victory—
Midnight—Good Night! I hear them call,
The Angels bustle in the Hall—
Softly my Future climbs the Stair,
I fumble at my Childhood's prayer
So soon to be a Child no more—
Eternity, I'm coming—Sire,
Savior—I've seen the face—before!
Emily Dickinson
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