It Was a Grave, Yet Bore No Stone, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

It Was a Grave, Yet Bore No Stone

876

It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone

Enclosed ’twas not of Rail

A Consciousness its Acre, and

It held a Human Soul.

Entombed by whom, for what offence

If Home or Foreign born—

Had I the curiosity

’Twere not appeased of men

Till Resurrection, I must guess

Denied the small desire

A Rose upon its Ridge to sow

Or take away a Briar.

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What Did They Do Since I Saw Them?

900 What did They do since I saw The… Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness

Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered

523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—

If What we could—were what we would—

407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—

The Martyr Poets—did Not Tell

544 The Martyr Poets—did not tell— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate—encourage Some—

Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—Houses

457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—

STEP lightly on this narrow spot

STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told

Be Mine the Doom—

845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!

Her—last Poems—

312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,

Life LXIII: Talk with prudence to a beggar (119)

LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!

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

A still—Volcano—Life—

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—

This Heart That Broke So Long

145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—

I cried at Pity—not at Pain—

588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—

Despair’s Advantage Is Achieved

799 Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering—Despair— To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore—

Jesus! Thy Crucifix

225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face

Emily Dickinson