They won’t frown always—some sweet Day, by Emily Dickinson

They won’t frown always—some sweet Day

874

They won’t frown always—some sweet Day

When I forget to tease—

They’ll recollect how cold I looked

And how I just said “Please.”

Then They will hasten to the Door

To call the little Girl

Who cannot thank Them for the Ice

That filled the lisping full.

If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,

735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

485 To make One’s Toilette—after Dea… Has made the Toilette cool Of only Taste we cared to please Is difficult, and still—

532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—

We grow accustomed to the Dark - When light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the La… To witness her Goodbye - A Moment - We uncertain step

130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—

20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—

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

947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?

454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.

1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—