To hang our head—ostensibly—, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

To hang our head—ostensibly—

105

To hang our head—ostensibly—

And subsequent, to find

That such was not the posture

Of our immortal mind—

Affords the sly presumption

That in so dense a fuzz—

You—too—take Cobweb attitudes

Upon a plane of Gauze!

#AmericanWriters

Preferido o celebrado por...

Otras obras de Emily Dickinson...

Of Being Is a Bird

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

A Tooth Upon Our Peace

459 A Tooth upon Our Peace The Peace cannot deface— Then Wherefore be the Tooth? To vitalize the Grace—

Love—is that later Thing than Death

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

I Taste a Liquor Never Brewed

I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,

Tho’ I Get Home How Late—how Late

207 Tho’ I get home how late—how late… So I get home—’twill compensate— Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me—

Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie—

722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,

No Man Can Compass a Despair

477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—

For Every Bird a Nest

143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—

I Fear a Man of Frugal Speech

543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—

Life LXV. GOOD night! which put the candle out?

LXV GOOD night! which put the candle… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick

‘They Have Not Chosen Me,’ He Said

‘They have not chosen me,’ he said… ‘But I have chosen them!’ Brave’—Broken hearted statement’— Uttered in Bethlehem! I could not have told it,

The Judge Is Like the Owl

699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—

Bird

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

Midsummer, Was It, When They Died

962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—

Snow Flakes

I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly

Emily Dickinson