She Died at Play, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

She Died at Play

She died at play,

Gambolled away

Her lease of spotted hours,

Then sank as gaily as a Turn

Upon a Couch of flowers.

Her ghost strolled softly o’er the hill

Yesterday, and Today,

Her vestments as the silver fleece—

Her countenance as spray.

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I Make His Crescent Fill Or Lack

909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—

A Planted Life—diversified

806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when

Defrauded I a Butterfly

730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—

’Twas such a little—little boat

107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!

924 Love—is that later Thing than Death

Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself— Tastes Death—the first—to hand th…

I Never Saw a Moor

I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,

Love—thou art high—

453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—

Life—is what we make of it—

698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—

I Have a King, Who Does Not Speak

103 I have a King, who does not speak… So—wondering—thro’ the hours meek I trudge the day away— Half glad when it is night, and sl…

I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being Theirs—

508 I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being Thei… The name They dropped upon my fac… With water, in the country church Is finished using, now,

Who Court Obtain Within Himself

803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—

“Heaven”—Is What I Cannot Reach!

239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!

I Meant to Have But Modest Needs

476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even—

How Many Flowers Fail in Wood

404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—

An Everywhere of Silver

An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.

Emily Dickinson

She Died at Play

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