“I want”—it pleaded—All its life—, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life—

731

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life—

I want—was chief it said

When Skill entreated it—the last—

And when so newly dead—

I could not deem it late—to hear

That single—steadfast sigh—

The lips had placed as with a “Please”

Toward Eternity—

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No Bobolink—reverse His Singing

755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—

42 a Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple

Exhiliration—is within—

383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand

Snow Beneath Whose Chilly Softness

942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee

I’M the Little “Heart’s Ease”

176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?

Between My Country—and the Others—

Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.

Great Caesar! Condescend

102 Great Caesar! Condescend The Daisy, to receive, Gathered by Cato’s Daughter, With your majestic leave!

’Tis little I—could care for Pearls

466 ’Tis little I—could care for Pear… Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me—

That Is Solemn We Have Ended

934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday

’Tis So Appalling&Mdash;It Exhilarates

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

Life XLIX. a poor torn heart, a tattered heart

XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,

From the Chrysalis

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be

Not All Die Early, Dying Young

990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—

Nature the Gentlest Mother Is

Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

Abraham to Kill Him

Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—

Emily Dickinson