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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Bless God, He Went as Soldiers

147
 
Bless God, he went as soldiers,
His musket on his breast—
Grant God, he charge the bravest
Of all the martial blest!
 
Please God, might I behold him
In epauletted white—
I should not fear the foe then—
I should not fear the fight!

#AmericanWriters

Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...
943 a Coffin—is a Small Domain

A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
 1
The Blue Jay

No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us
Prayer Is the Little Implement

437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
Only a Shrine, But Mine

918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
 1
341 After great pain a formal feeling comes

After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
 1
 3
All Circumstances Are the Frame

820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
I Cautious, Scanned my Little Life

178 I cautious, scanned my little life… I winnowed what would fade From what would last till Heads l… Should be a-dreaming laid.
 2
It Struck Me Every Day

It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,
Be Mine the Doom—

845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!
Whose Are the Little Beds, I Asked

142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
Nature LX. The grass so little has to do

LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
 2
The Going From a World We Know

The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery
No Bobolink—reverse His Singing

755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
 1
Ophelia, by John Everett Millais
Time X. I died for beauty (449)

I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
 1
 5
A Weight With Needles on the Pounds

264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—



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