I reckon—when I count it all, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

I reckon—when I count it all

569

I reckon—when I count at all—

First—Poets—Then the Sun—

Then Summer—Then the Heaven of God—

And then—the List is done—

But, looking back—the First so seems

To Comprehend the Whole—

The Others look a needless Show—

So I write—Poets—All—

Their Summer—lasts a Solid Year—

They can afford a Sun

The East—would deem extravagant—

And if the Further Heaven—

Be Beautiful as they prepare

For Those who worship Them—

It is too difficult a Grace—

To justify the Dream—

#AmericanWriters

Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...

All These my Banners Be

22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—

Delayed Till She Had Ceased to Know

58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…

Woodpecker, The

His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.

Removed From Accident of Loss

424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—

The Power to Be True to You

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

’Twas Like a Maelstrom, With a Notch

414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony

The World—stands—solemner—to me

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

A Sloop of Amber slips away

A Sloop of Amber slips away Upon an Ether Sea, And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar… The Son of Ecstasy -

A Bird Came Down

A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew

This Bauble Was Preferred of Bees

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

Me! Come! my Dazzled Face

Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet

Life XLVIII. Though I get home how late, how late!

XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,

It Might Be Lonelier

405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—

Life XXXVII. FOR each ecstatic instant

XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.

The Clover’s simple Fame

The Clover’s simple Fame Remembered of the Cow - Is better than enameled Realms Of notability. Renown perceives itself

Emily Dickinson

I reckon—when I count it all

Condividere

Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...