(204) a slash of Blue, par Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

(204) a slash of Blue

A slash of Blue—

A sweep of Gray—

Some scarlet patches on the way,

Compose an Evening Sky—

A little purple—slipped between—

Some Ruby Trousers hurried on—

A Wave of Gold—

A Bank of Day—

This just makes out the Morning Sky.

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Autres oeuvres par Emily Dickinson...

My first well Day—since many ill—

574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —

It stole along so stealthy

It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -

It’s Like the Light,—

It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,

I never felt at Home–Below–

413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–

159 a little bread—a crust—a crumb

A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,

I Can Wade Grief

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

Sometimes with the Heart

Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.

Joy to Have Merited the Pain

788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—

The Heaven Vests for Each

694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—

Finite’to Fail, But Infinite to Venture

847 Finite’—to fail, but infinite to… For the one ship that struts the s… Many’s the gallant’—overwhelmed C… Nodding in Navies nevermore’—

This Bauble Was Preferred of Bees

805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—

Answer July

386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?

I’ve Seen a Dying Eye

547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—

Departed to the Judgment,

Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled

’Tis So Appalling&Mdash;It Exhilarates

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

Emily Dickinson