She Dwelleth in the Ground, by Emily Dickinson

She Dwelleth in the Ground

671

She dwelleth in the Ground—

Where Daffodils—abide—

Her Maker—Her Metropolis—

The Universe—Her Maid—

To fetch Her Grace—and Hue—

And Fairness—and Renown—

The Firmament’s—To Pluck Her—

And fetch Her Thee—be mine—

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769 One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for schools— But for minor Choosing—

673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…

535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—

342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—

858 This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life I mention it to you, When Sunrise through a fissure dr… The Day must follow too.

They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,

969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—

384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—

765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity

344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—

12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.

It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,

351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—

Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.

Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost