The Manner of Its Death, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

The Manner of Its Death

468

The Manner of its Death

When Certain it must die—

’Tis deemed a privilege to choose—

’Twas Major Andre’s Way—

When Choice of Life—is past—

There yet remains a Love

Its little Fate to stipulate—

How small in those who live—

The Miracle to tease

With Bable of the styles—

How “they are Dying mostly—now”—

And Customs at “St. James”!

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Did the Harebell Loose Her Girdle

213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?

“Faith” Is a Fine Invention

185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.

It Did Not Surprise Me

39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,

The Missing All’—prevented Me

985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—

If What we could—were what we would—

407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—

“Heaven” has different Signs—to me

575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,

There Is a Word

8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables

Went Up a Year This Evening!

93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!

Don’T Put Up my Thread and Needle

617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!

42 A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory!

The Color of the Grave Is Green

411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—

Again—his voice is at the door—

663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—

A Counterfeit– a Plated Person –

A Counterfeit– a Plated Person… I would not be - Whatever strata of Iniquity My Nature underlie - Truth is good Health - and Safet…

Their Height in Heaven Comforts Not

696 Their Height in Heaven comforts n… Their Glory—nought to me— ’Twas best imperfect—as it was— I’m finite—I can’t see—

Away from Home are some and I

821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—

Emily Dickinson

The Manner of Its Death

Condividere

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