From Us She Wandered Now a Year, by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

From Us She Wandered Now a Year

890

From Us She wandered now a Year,

Her tarrying, unknown,

If Wilderness prevent her feet

Or that Ethereal Zone

No eye hath seen and lived

We ignorant must be—

We only know what time of Year

We took the Mystery.

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.

Other works by Emily Dickinson...

There are two Ripenings—one—of sight—

332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—

A Thought Went Up my Mind To-Day

A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came

Flowers—Well—if anybody

137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:

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—

If all the griefs I am to have

If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have

The Future—never spoke—

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

Nobody Knows This Little Rose

35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.

As from the earth the light Balloon

As from the earth the light Ballo… Asks nothing but release - Ascension that for which it was, Its soaring Residence. The spirit looks upon the Dust

The Brain, Within Its Groove

556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—

Dust Is the Only Secret

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

Suspense – is Hostiler than Death –

705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –

I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…

There Is No Frigate Like a Book

There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take

Why Do They Shut Me Out of Heaven?

Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –

It Did Not Surprise Me

39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,

Emily Dickinson

From Us She Wandered Now a Year

Share

Other works by Emily Dickinson...