She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc, par Emily Dickinson

She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc

798

She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc—

Debated—Rose again—

This time—beyond the estimate

Of Envy, or of Men—

And now, among Circumference—

Her steady Boat be seen—

At home—among the Billows—As

The Bough where she was born—

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772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given

690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—

17 Baffled for just a day or two— Embarrassed—not afraid— Encounter in my garden An unexpected Maid.

414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony

A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad

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

No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—

906 The Admirations—and Contempts—of… Show justest—through an Open Tomb… The Dying—as it were a Height Reorganizes Estimate

824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…

774 It is a lonesome Glee— Yet sanctifies the Mind— With fair association— Afar upon the Wind

470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—

Part One: Life LI IT tossed and tossed,— A little brig I knew,— O’ertook by blast,

XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!

748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—

717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—