I Asked No Other Thing, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

I Asked No Other Thing

621

I asked no other thing—

No other—was denied—

I offered Being—for it—

The Mighty Merchant sneered—

Brazil? He twirled a Button—

Without a glance my way—

“But—Madam—is there nothing else—

That We can show—Today?”

#AmericanWriters

Preferido o celebrado por...

Otras obras de Emily Dickinson...

Will There Really Be a “Morning”?

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

This Bauble Was Preferred of Bees

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

Where I Have Lost, I Softer Tread

104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.

Life CXXVI. The brain is wider than the sky (632)

THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—

They Say That 'Time Assuages,

They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,

’Tis Customary as We Part

440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—

Many a Phrase Has the English Language

276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—

How fits his Umber Coat

How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?

Beclouded

The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day

Time LXIII. Ample make this bed (829)

LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.

The Murmur of a Bee

155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—

Not

Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—

As by the Dead We Love to Sit

88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—

Finding Is the First Act

870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”

The name—of it—is “Autumn”—

656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—

Emily Dickinson