Emily Dickinson

My God — He sees thee —
Shine thy best —
Fling up thy Balls of Gold
Till every Cubit play with thee
And every Crescent hold —
Elate the Acre at his feet —
Upon his Atom swim —
Oh Sun — but just a Second’s right
In thy long Race with him!
-Emily Dickinson

My Heart ran so to thee
It would not wait for me
And I affronted grew
And drew away

For whatsoe’er my pace
He first achieve they Face
How general a Grace
Allotted two —

Not in malignity
Mentioned I this to thee —
Had he obliquity
Soonest to share
But for the Greed of him —
Boasting my Premium —
Basking in Bethleem
Ere I be there —
-Emily

My Heart upon a little Plate
Her Palate to delight
A Berry or a Bun, would be,
Might it an Apricot!
-Emily Dickinson

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun —
In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified —
And carried Me away —

And now We roam in Sovereign Woods —
And now We hunt the Doe —
And every time I speak for Him —
The Mountains straight reply —

And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the Valley glow —
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through —

And when at

My Maker — let me be
Enamored most of thee —
But nearer this
I more should miss —
-Emily Dickinson

My Portion is Defeat — today —
A paler luck than Victory —
Less Paeans — fewer Bells —
The Drums don’t follow Me — with tunes —
Defeat — a somewhat slower — means —
More Arduous than Balls —

‘Tis populous with Bone and stain —
And Men too straight to stoop again –,
And Piles of solid Moan —
And Chips of Blank — in Boyish Eyes —
And scraps of Prayer —
And Death’s surprise,
Stamped visible

My Reward for Being, was This.
My premium — My Bliss —
An Admiralty, less —
A Sceptre — penniless —
And Realms — just Dross —

When Thrones accost my Hands —
With “Me, Miss, Me” —
I’ll unroll Thee —
Dominions dowerless — beside this Grace —
Election — Vote —
The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.
-Emily Dickinson

My River runs to thee —
Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?
My River wait reply —
Oh Sea — look graciously —
I’ll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks —
Say — Sea — Take Me!
-Emily Dickinson

My Season’s furthest Flower —
I tenderer commend
Because I found Her Kinsmanless,
A Grace without a Friend.
-Emily Dickinson

My Soul — accused me — And I quailed —
As Tongue of Diamond had reviled
All else accused me — and I smiled —
My Soul — that Morning — was My friend —

Her favor — is the best Disdain
Toward Artifice of Time — or Men —
But Her Disdain — ’twere lighter bear
A finger of Enamelled Fire —

My Triumph lasted till the Drums
Had left the Dead alone
And then I dropped my Victory
And chastened stole along
To where the finished Faces
Conclusion turned on me
And then I hated Glory
And wished myself were They.

What is to be is best descried
When it has also been —
Could Prospect taste of Retrospect
The tyrannies of Men
Were Tenderer — diviner
The Transitive toward.
A Bayonet’s contrition
Is nothing to the Dead.

My Wars are laid away in Books —
I have one Battle more —
A Foe whom I have never seen
But oft has scanned me o’er —
And hesitated me between
And others at my side,
But chose the best — Neglecting me — till
All the rest, have died —
How sweet if I am not forgot
By Chums that passed away —
Since Playmates at threescore and ten
Are such a scarcity —

My Worthiness is all my Doubt —
His Merit — all my fear —
Contrasting which, my quality
Do lowlier — appear —

Lest I should insufficient prove
For His beloved Need —
The Chiefest Apprehension
Upon my thronging Mind —

‘Tis true — that Deity to stoop
Inherently incline —
For nothing higher than Itself
Itself can rest upon —

So I — the undivine abode
Of His Elect Content —
Conform my Soul — as ’twere a Church,
Unto Her Sacrament —

My best Acquaintances are those
With Whom I spoke no Word —
The Stars that stated come to Town
Esteemed Me never rude
Although to their Celestial Call
I failed to make reply —
My constant — reverential Face
Sufficient Courtesy.
-Emily Dickinson

My country need not change her gown,
Her triple suit as sweet
As when ’twas cut at Lexington,
And first pronounced “a fit.”

Great Britain disapproves, “the stars”;
Disparagement discreet, —
There’s something in their attitude
That taunts her bayonet.
-Emily Dickinson

My first well Day — since many ill —
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod —

A ‘blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain —
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.

The Summer deepened, while we strove —
She put some flowers away —
And Redder cheeked Ones — in their stead —
A fond — illusive way —

To

My friend attacks my friend!
Oh Battle picturesque!
Then I turn Soldier too,
And he turns Satirist!
How martial is this place!
Had I a mighty gun
I think I’d shoot the human race
And then to glory run!
-Emily Dickinson

My friend must be a Bird —
Because it flies!
Mortal, my friend must be,
Because it dies!
Barbs has it, like a Bee!
Ah, curious friend!
Thou puzzlest me!
-Emily Dickinson

My life closed twice before its close —
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
-Emily Dickinson

My nosegays are for Captives —
Dim — expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till Paradise.

To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.
-Emily Dickinson

My period had come for Prayer —
No other Art — would do —
My Tactics missed a rudiment —
Creator — Was it you?

God grows above — so those who pray
Horizons — must ascend —
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend —

His House was not — no sign had He —
By Chimney — nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence —
Vast Prairies of Air

Unbroken by a Settler

Myself can read the Telegrams
A Letter chief to me
The Stock’s advance and Retrograde
And what the Markets say

The Weather — how the Rains
In Counties have begun.
‘Tis News as null as nothing,
But sweeter so — than none.
-Emily Dickinson

Myself was formed — a Carpenter —
An unpretending time
My Plane — and I, together wrought
Before a Builder came —

To measure our attainments —
Had we the Art of Boards
Sufficiently developed — He’d hire us
At Halves —

My Tools took Human — Faces —
The Bench, where we had toiled —
Against the Man — persuaded —
We — Temples build — I said —

My wheel is in the dark!
I cannot see a spoke
Yet know its dripping feet
Go round and round.

My foot is on the Tide!
An unfrequented road —
Yet have all roads
A clearing at the end —

Some have resigned the Loom —
Some in the busy tomb
Find quaint employ —

Some with new — stately feet —
Pass royal through the gate —
Flinging the problem back
At you and I!

Nature — sometimes sears a Sapling —
Sometimes — scalps a Tree —
Her Green People recollect it
When they do not die —

Fainter Leaves — to Further Seasons —
Dumbly testify —
We — who have the Souls —
Die oftener — Not so vitally —
-Emily Dickinson