How the Old Mountains Drip With Sunset, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

How the Old Mountains Drip With Sunset

291

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset

How the Hemlocks burn—

How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder

By the Wizard Sun—

How the old Steeples hand the Scarlet

Till the Ball is full—

Have I the lip of the Flamingo

That I dare to tell?

Then, how the Fire ebbs like Billows—

Touching all the Grass

With a departing—Sapphire—feature—

As a Duchess passed—

How a small Dusk crawls on the Village

Till the Houses blot

And the odd Flambeau, no men carry

Glimmer on the Street—

How it is Night—in Nest and Kennel—

And where was the Wood—

Just a Dome of Abyss is Bowing

Into Solitude—

These are the Visions flitted Guido—

Titian—never told—

Domenichino dropped his pencil—

Paralyzed, with Gold—

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The Daisy Follows Soft the Sun

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If Blame Be my Side’forfeit Me

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122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—

Love—is anterior to Life—

917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—

Me prove it now—Whoever doubt

537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—

I Lived on Dread

770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose—

204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—

I Robbed the Woods

41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses

Life XXII. I had no time to hate (478)

XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.

This Is my Letter to the World,

This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed

One Crucifixion is recorded—only

553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—

Dying at my Music

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Three times—we parted—Breath—and I—

598 Three times—we parted—Breath—and… Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless F… The Waters—strove to stay.

I Stepped From Plank to Plank

I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next

Sown in Dishonor

62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself

Emily Dickinson