Emily Dickinson

I should not dare to be so sad
So many Years again –
A Load is first impossible
When we have put it down –

The Superhuman then withdraws
And we who never saw
The Giant at the other side
Begin to perish now.
-Emily Dickinson

I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because — because if he should die
While I was gone — and I — too late —
Should reach the Heart that wanted me —

If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted — hunted so — to see —
And could not bear to shut until
They “noticed” me — they noticed me —

If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I’d come — so sure

I showed her Heights she never saw —
“Would’st Climb,” I said?
She said — “Not so” —
“With me –” I said — With me?
I showed her Secrets — Morning’s Nest —
The Rope the Nights were put across —
And now — “Would’st have me for a Guest?”
She could not find her Yes —
And then, I brake my life — And Lo,
A Light, for her, did solemn glow,
The larger, as her face

I sing to use the Waiting
My Bonnet but to tie
And shut the Door unto my House
No more to do have I

Till His best step approaching
We journey to the Day
And tell each other how We sung
To Keep the Dark away.
-Emily Dickinson

I sometimes drop it, for a Quick —
The Thought to be alive —
Anonymous Delight to know —
And Madder — to conceive —

Consoles a Woe so monstrous
That did it tear all Day,
Without an instant’s Respite —
‘Twould look too far — to Die —

-Emily Dickinson

I started Early — Took my Dog —
And visited the Sea —
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me —

And Frigates — in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands —
Presuming Me to be a Mouse —
Aground — upon the Sands —

But no Man moved Me — till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe —
And past my Apron — and my Belt —
And past my Bodice — too —

And

I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my Feet the Sea.

I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch —
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.
-Emily Dickinson

I stole them from a Bee –
Because – Thee –
Sweet plea –
He pardoned me!
-Emily Dickinson

I sued the News — yet feared — the News
That such a Realm could be —
“The House not made with Hands” it was —
Thrown open wide to me —
-Emily Dickinson

I suppose the time will come
Aid it in the coming
When the Bird will crowd the Tree
And the Bee be booming.

I suppose the time will come
Hinder it a little
When the Corn in Silk will dress
And in Chintz the Apple

I believe the Day will be
When the Jay will giggle
At his new white House the Earth
That, too, halt a little –

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 —
And Debauchee of Dew —
Reeling — thro endless summer days —
From inns of Molten Blue —

When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door —
When Butterflies — renounce their “drams” —
I shall but drink the more!

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats —
And

I tend my flowers for thee —
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams
Rip — while the Sower — dreams —

Geraniums — tint — and spot —
Low Daisies — dot —
My Cactus — splits her Beard
To show her throat —

Carnations — tip their spice —
And Bees — pick up —
A Hyacinth — I hid —
Puts out a Ruffled Head —
And odors fall
From flasks — so small —
You marvel how they held —

Globe

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl —
I read that Foreign Lady —
The Dark — felt beautiful —

And whether it was noon at night —
Or only Heaven — at Noon —
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell —

The Bees — became as Butterflies —
The Butterflies — as Swans —
Approached — and spurned the narrow Grass —
And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself
To

I think just how my shape will rise —
When I shall be “forgiven” —
Till Hair — and Eyes — and timid Head —
Are out of sight — in Heaven —

I think just how my lips will weigh —
With shapeless — quivering — prayer —
That you — so late — “Consider” me —
The “Sparrow” of your Care —

I mind me that of Anguish — sent —
Some drifts were moved away

I think that the Root of the Wind is Water —
It would not sound so deep
Were it a Firmamental Product —
Airs no Oceans keep —
Mediterranean intonations —
To a Current’s Ear —
There is a maritime conviction
In the Atmosphere —
-Emily Dickinson

I think the Hemlock likes to stand
Upon a Marge of Snow —
It suits his own Austerity —
And satisfies an awe

That men, must slake in Wilderness —
And in the Desert — cloy —
An instinct for the Hoar, the Bald —
Lapland’s — necessity —

The Hemlock’s nature thrives — on cold —
The Gnash of Northern winds
Is sweetest nutriment — to him —
His best Norwegian Wines —

To satin Races — he is nought

I think the longest Hour of all
Is when the Cars have come —
And we are waiting for the Coach —
It seems as though the Time

Indignant — that the Joy was come —
Did block the Gilded Hands —
And would not let the Seconds by —
But slowest instant — ends —

The Pendulum begins to count —
Like little Scholars — loud —
The steps grow thicker — in the Hall —
The Heart begins

I thought that nature was enough
Till Human nature came
But that the other did absorb
As Parallax a Flame –

Of Human nature just aware
There added the Divine
Brief struggle for capacity
The power to contain

Is always as the contents
But give a Giant room
And you will lodge a Giant
And not a smaller man
-Emily Dickinson

I thought the Train would never come —
How slow the whistle sang —
I don’t believe a peevish Bird
So whimpered for the Spring —
I taught my Heart a hundred times
Precisely what to say —
Provoking Lover, when you came
Its Treatise flew away
To hide my strategy too late
To wiser be too soon —
For miseries so halcyon
The happiness atone —

I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl —
Life’s little duties do — precisely —
As the very least
Were infinite — to me —

I put new Blossoms in the Glass —
And throw the old — away —
I push a petal from my gown
That anchored there — I weigh
The time ’twill be till six o’clock
I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped —

I took my power in my hand
And went AGAINST the world
‘Twas not so much as David had
But I was twice as bold
I aimed by pebble, but myself
Was ALL the one that fell
Was it Goliath was too large
Or was myself too small?
-Emily Dickinson

I took one Draught of Life —
I’ll tell you what I paid –
Precisely an existence —
The market price, they said.

They weighed me, Dust by Dust –
They balanced Film with Film,
Then handed me my Being’s worth —
A single Dram of Heaven!
-Emily Dickinson

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

I probed Retrieverless things
My Duplicate — to borrow —
A Haggard Comfort springs

From the belief that Somewhere —
Within the Clutch of Thought —
There dwells one other Creature
Of Heavenly Love — forgot —

I plucked at our Partition
As One should pry the Walls —
Between Himself — and Horror’s Twin

I was a Phoebe — nothing more —
A Phoebe — nothing less —
The little note that others dropt
I fitted into place —

I dwelt too low that any seek —
Too shy, that any blame —
A Phoebe makes a little print
Upon the Floors of Fame —
-Emily Dickinson