Light Is Sufficient to Itself, par Emily Dickinson

Light Is Sufficient to Itself

862

Light is sufficient to itself—

If Others want to see

It can be had on Window Panes

Some Hours in the Day.

But not for Compensation—

It holds as large a Glow

To Squirrel in the Himmaleh

Precisely, as to you.

262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—

771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—

482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—

171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!

369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—

412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—

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

424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—

347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—

760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—

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

521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—

734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—

980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.