Emily Dickinson

Despair’s advantage is achieved
By suffering — Despair —
To be assisted of Reverse
One must Reverse have bore –

The Worthiness of Suffering like
The Worthiness of Death
Is ascertained by tasting —

As can no other Mouth

Of Savors — make us conscious —
As did ourselves partake —
Affliction feels impalpable
Until Ourselves are struck –
-Emily Dickinson

Dew — is the Freshet in the Grass —
‘Tis many a tiny Mill
Turns unperceived beneath our feet
And Artisan lies still —

We spy the Forests and the Hills
The Tents to Nature’s Show
Mistake the Outside for the in
And mention what we saw.

Could Commentators on the Sign
Of Nature’s Caravan
Obtain “Admission” as a Child
Some Wednesday Afternoon.
-Emily Dickinson

Did Our Best Moment last —
‘Twould supersede the Heaven —
A few — and they by Risk — procure —
So this Sort — are not given —

Except as stimulants — in
Cases of Despair —
Or Stupor — The Reserve —
These Heavenly Moments are —

A Grant of the Divine —
That Certain as it Comes —
Withdraws — and leaves the dazzled Soul
In her unfurnished Rooms

Did We abolish Frost
The Summer would not cease –
If Seasons perish or prevail
Is optional with Us –
-Emily Dickinson

Did life’s penurious length
Italicize its sweetness,
The men that daily live
Would stand so deep in joy
That it would clog the cogs
Of that revolving reason
Whose esoteric belt
Protects our sanity.
-Emily Dickinson

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

Did the “Paradise” — persuaded —
Yield her moat of pearl —
Would the Eden be an Eden,
Or the Earl — an Earl?
-Emily Dickinson

Did we disobey Him?
Just one time!
Charged us to forget Him —
But we couldn’t learn!

Were Himself — such a Dunce —
What would we — do?
Love the dull lad — best —
Oh, wouldn’t you?
-Emily Dickinson

Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s Mouth —
Widths out of the Sun —
And look — and shudder, and block your breath —
And deem to be alone

In such a place, what horror,
How Goblin it would be —
And fly, as ’twere pursuing you?
Then Loneliness — looks so —

Did you ever look in a Cannon’s face —
Between whose Yellow eye —
And yours — the Judgment intervened —
The Question of “To die”

Distance — is not the Realm of Fox
Nor by Relay of Bird
Abated — Distance is
Until thyself, Beloved.
-Emily Dickinson

Distrustful of the Gentian –
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy —
Weary for my —
I will singing go —
I shall not feel the sleet — then –
I shall not fear the snow.

Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee —
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie –
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go —
Hangs so distant Heaven —
To a hand below.

Do People moulder equally,
They bury, in the Grave?
I do believe a Species
As positively live

As I, who testify it
Deny that I — am dead —
And fill my Lungs, for Witness —
From Tanks — above my Head —

I say to you, said Jesus —
That there be standing here —
A Sort, that shall not taste of Death —
If Jesus was sincere —

I need no further Argue —
That statement of the Lord
Is

Dominion lasts until obtained —
Possession just as long —
But these — endowing as they flit
Eternally belong.

How everlasting are the Lips
Known only to the Dew —
These are the Brides of permanence
Supplanting me and you.
-Emily Dickinson

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

These were bent — my sight got crooked —
When my mind — is plain
I’ll do seams — a Queen’s endeavor
Would not blush to own —

Hems — too fine for Lady’s tracing
To the sightless Knot —
Tucks — of dainty interspersion —
Like a dotted Dot —

Leave my Needle in the furrow

Doom is the House without the Door —
‘Tis entered from the Sun —
And then the Ladder’s thrown away,
Because Escape — is done —

‘Tis varied by the Dream
Of what they do outside —
Where Squirrels play — and Berries die —
And Hemlocks — bow — to God –
-Emily Dickinson

Doubt Me! My Dim Companion!
Why, God, would be content
With but a fraction of the Life —
Poured thee, without a stint —
The whole of me — forever —
What more the Woman can,
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last Delight I own!

It cannot be my Spirit —
For that was thine, before —
I ceded all of Dust I knew —
What Opulence the more
Had I — a freckled Maiden,
Whose farthest of Degree,
Was

Down Time’s quaint stream
Without an oar
We are enforced to sail
Our Port a secret
Our Perchance a Gale
What Skipper would
Incur the Risk
What Buccaneer would ride
Without a surety from the Wind
Or schedule of the Tide –
-Emily Dickinson

Drab Habitation of Whom?
Tabernacle or Tomb –
Or Dome of Worm –
Or Porch of Gnome –
Or some Elf’s Catacomb?
-Emily Dickinson

Drama’s Vitallest Expression is the Common Day
That arise and set about Us —
Other Tragedy

Perish in the Recitation —
This — the best enact
When the Audience is scattered
And the Boxes shut —

“Hamlet” to Himself were Hamlet —
Had not Shakespeare wrote —
Though the “Romeo” left no Record
Of his Juliet,

It were infinite enacted
In the Human Heart —
Only Theatre recorded
Owner cannot shut —
-Emily Dickinson

Dreams — are well — but Waking’s better,
If One wake at morn —
If One wake at Midnight — better —
Dreaming — of the Dawn —

Sweeter — the Surmising Robins —
Never gladdened Tree —
Than a Solid Dawn — confronting —
Leading to no Day
-Emily Dickinson

Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour –
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple Door
Into the Precinct raw
Possessed before –
-Emily Dickinson

Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise
Three times, ’tis said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode,
Where hope and he part company —
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker’s cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.
-Emily Dickinson

Dropped into the Ether Acre —
Wearing the Sod Gown —
Bonnet of Everlasting Laces —
Brooch — frozen on —

Horses of Blonde — and Coach of Silver —
Baggage a strapped Pearl —
Journey of Down — and Whip of Diamond —
Riding to meet the Earl —
-Emily Dickinson

Dust is the only Secret —
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his “native town.”

Nobody know “his Father” —
Never was a Boy —
Hadn’t any playmates,
Or “Early history” —

Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!

Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest —
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!
-Emily Dickinson

Dying! Dying in the night!
Won’t somebody bring the light
So I can see which way to go
Into the everlasting snow?

And “Jesus”! Where is Jesus gone?
They said that Jesus — always came —
Perhaps he doesn’t know the House —
This way, Jesus, Let him pass!

Somebody run to the great gate
And see if Dollie’s coming! Wait!
I hear her feet upon the stair!
Death won’t hurt — now Dollie’s here!
-Emily Dickinson

Dying! To be afraid of thee
One must to thine Artillery
Have left exposed a Friend —
Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
Delivered straighter to the Heart
The leaving Love behind.

Not for itself, the Dust is shy,
But, enemy, Beloved be
Thy Batteries divorce.
Fight sternly in a Dying eye
Two Armies, Love and Certainty
And Love and the Reverse.
-Emily Dickinson