On a Columnar Self, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

On a Columnar Self

789

On a Columnar Self—

How ample to rely

In Tumult—or Extremity—

How good the Certainty

That Lever cannot pry—

And Wedge cannot divide

Conviction—That Granitic Base—

Though None be on our Side—

Suffice Us—for a Crowd—

Ourself—and Rectitude—

And that Assembly—not far off

From furthest Spirit—God—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Life X. in a library (371)

A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,

Without this—there is nought—

655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—

“Arcturus” is his other name—

70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!

Glory is that bright tragic thing

Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,

The Dust Behind I Strove to Join

992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—

Did We Disobey Him?

267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!

Once More, my Now Bewildered Dove

48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—

T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died.

‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look

Not Sickness stains the Brave,

Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -

One Day Is There of the Series

814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.

It tossed—and tossed—

723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—

I’Ve Heard an Organ Talk, Sometimes

183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—

Snow Flakes

I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly

A Toad Can Die of Light!

A toad can die of light! Death is the common right Of toads and men,— Of earl and midge The privilege.

The Lady Feeds Her Little Bird

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

Emily Dickinson

On a Columnar Self

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