Funny—to be a Century, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Funny—to be a Century

345

Funny—to be a Century—

And see the People—going by—

I—should die of the Oddity—

But then—I’m not so staid—as He—

He keeps His Secrets safely—very—

Were He to tell—extremely sorry

This Bashful Globe of Ours would be—

So dainty of Publicity—

#AmericanWriters

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Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...

754 my Life had stood—a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…

Tho’ my Destiny Be Fustian

163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—

I Cross Till I Am Weary

550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then

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—

Are Friends Delight Or Pain

Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away

The Tint I Cannot Take—is Best

627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—

Superfluous Were the Sun

999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said

’Twas such a little—little boat

107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!

Whether they have forgotten

Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture

Civilization—spurns—the Leopard!

492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—

An Everywhere of Silver

An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.

There Is a Shame of Nobleness

551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—

Who Court Obtain Within Himself

803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—

Away from Home are some and I

821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—

God Permit Industrious Angels

God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly

Emily Dickinson