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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

The Lonesome for They Know Not What

262
 
The lonesome for they know not What—
The Eastern Exiles—be—
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday—
 
And ever since—the purple Moat
They strive to climb—in vain—
As Birds—that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain—
 
The Blessed Ether—taught them—
Some Transatlantic Morn—
When Heaven—was too common—to miss—
Too sure—to dote upon!

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Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...
Of Bronze — and Blaze —

319 Of Bronze—and Blaze— The North—tonight— So adequate—it forms— So preconcerted with itself—
 1
Snow Beneath Whose Chilly Softness

942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
 1
He found my Being—set it up—

603 He found my Being—set it up— Adjusted it to place— Then carved his name—upon it— And bade it to the East
For Death—or rather

382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
A happy lip—breaks sudden

353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
 1
To be alive—is Power—

677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
Not All Die Early, Dying Young

990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
How Well I Knew Her Not

837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
There’s Been a Death in the Opposite House

There’s been a death in the opposi… As lately as to-day. I know it by the numb look Such houses have alway. The neighbors rustle in and out,
 1
A still—Volcano—Life—

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
The Day That I Was Crowned

356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
 1
Still Life with Books and Candle, by Henri Matisse
Life XCIX. There is no Frigate like a Book (1286)

XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
 2
I Reason, Earth Is Short

301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe

896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
The Chemical Conviction

954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—



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