’Tis Customary as We Part, por Emily Dickinson

’Tis Customary as We Part

440

’Tis customary as we part

A trinket—to confer—

It helps to stimulate the faith

When Lovers be afar—

’Tis various—as the various taste—

Clematis—journeying far—

Presents me with a single Curl

Of her Electric Hair—

A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew

648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—

‘Faithful to the end’ Amended From the Heavenly Clause - Constancy with a Proviso Constancy abhors - ‘Crowns of Life’ are servile Priz…

An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.

931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—

I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…

242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—

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

The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…

Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.

No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us

30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?

Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…

The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back