Emily Dickinson

None can experience sting
Who Bounty — have not known —
The fact of Famine — could not be
Except for Fact of Corn —

Want — is a meagre Art
Acquired by Reverse —
The Poverty that was not Wealth —
Cannot be Indigence.
-Emily Dickinson

None who saw it ever told it
‘Tis as hid as Death
Had for that specific treasure
A departing breath —
Surfaces may be invested
Did the Diamond grow
General as the Dandelion
Would you serve it so?
-Emily Dickinson

Noon — is the Hinge of Day —
Evening — the Tissue Door —
Morning — the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar —
-Emily Dickinson

Nor Mountain hinder Me
Nor Sea —
Who’s Baltic —
Who’s Cordillera?
-Emily Dickinson

Not One by Heaven defrauded stay —
Although he seem to steal
He restitutes in some sweet way
Secreted in his will —
-Emily Dickinson

Not “Revelation” — ’tis — that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes —
-Emily Dickinson

Not Sickness stains the Brave,
Nor any Dart,
Nor Doubt of Scene to come,
But an adjourning Heart –
-Emily Dickinson

Not all die early, dying young —
Maturity of Fate
Is consummated equally
In Ages, or a Night —

A Hoary Boy, I’ve known to drop
Whole statured — by the side
Of Junior of Fourscore — ’twas Act
Not Period — that died.
-Emily Dickinson

Not any higher stands the Grave
For Heroes than for Men —
Not any nearer for the Child
Than numb Three Score and Ten —

This latest Leisure equal lulls
The Beggar and his Queen
Propitiate this Democrat
A Summer’s Afternoon —
-Emily Dickinson

Not any more to be lacked —
Not any more to be known —
Denizen of Significance
For a span so worn —

Even Nature herself
Has forgot it is there —
Sedulous of her Multitudes
Notwithstanding Despair —

Of the Ones that pursued it
Suing it not to go
Some have solaced the longing
To accompany —

Some — rescinded the Wrench —
Others — Shall I say
Plated the residue of Adz
With Monotony.

Not any sunny tone
From any fervent zone
Find entrance there —
Better a grave of Balm
Toward human nature’s home —
And Robins near —
Than a stupendous Tomb
Proclaiming to the Gloom
How dead we are —
-Emily Dickinson

Not at Home to Callers
Says the Naked Tree —
Bonnet due in April —
Wishing you Good Day —
-Emily Dickinson

Not in this World to see his face —
Sounds long — until I read the place
Where this — is said to be
But just the Primer — to a life —
Unopened — rare — Upon the Shelf —
Clasped yet — to Him — and Me —

And yet — My Primer suits me so
I would not choose — a Book to know
Than that — be sweeter wise —
Might some one else

Not knowing when the Dawn will come,
I open every Door,
Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,
Or Billows, like a Shore –
-Emily Dickinson

Not probable — The barest Chance —
A smile too few — a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest —
The Soul so close on Paradise —

What if the Bird from journey far —
Confused by Sweets — as Mortals — are —
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish — but a Bough between —
Oh, Groping feet —
Oh Phantom Queen!

Not seeing, still we know —
Not knowing, guess —
Not guessing, smile and hide
And half caress —

And quake — and turn away,
Seraphic fear —
Is Eden’s innuendo
“If you dare”?
-Emily Dickinson

Not so the infinite Relations — Below
Division is Adhesion’s forfeit — On High
Affliction but a Speculation — And Woe
A Fallacy, a Figment, We knew –
-Emily Dickinson

Not that We did, shall be the test
When Act and Will are done
But what Our Lord infers We would
Had We diviner been –
-Emily Dickinson

Not that he goes — we love him more
Who led us while he stayed.
Beyond earth’s trafficking frontier,
For what he moved, he made.
-Emily Dickinson

Not to discover weakness is
The Artifice of strength —
Impregnability inheres
As much through Consciousness

Of faith of others in itself
As Pyramidal Nerve
Behind the most unconscious clock
What skilful Pointers move —
-Emily Dickinson

Not with a Club, the Heart is broken
Nor with a Stone —
A Whip so small you could not see it
I’ve known

To lash the Magic Creature
Till it fell,
Yet that Whip’s Name
Too noble then to tell.

Magnanimous as Bird
By Boy descried —
Singing unto the Stone
Of which it died —

Shame need not crouch
In such an Earth as Ours —
Shame — stand erect —
The Universe is yours.

Now I knew I lost her —
Not that she was gone —
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.

Alien, though adjoining
As a Foreign Race —
Traversed she though pausing
Latitudeless Place.

Elements Unaltered —
Universe the same
But Love’s transmigration —
Somehow this had come —

Henceforth to remember
Nature took the Day
I had paid so much for —
His is Penury
Not who toils for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.

Now I lay thee down to Sleep —
I pray the Lord thy Dust to keep —
And if thou live before thou wake —
I pray the Lord thy Soul to make —
-Emily Dickinson

Obtaining but our own Extent
In whatsoever Realm —
‘Twas Christ’s own personal Expanse
That bore him from the Tomb —
-Emily Dickinson

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

It soars — and shifts — and whirls —
And measures with the Clouds
In easy — even — dazzling pace —
No different the Birds —

Except a Wake of Music
Accompany their feet —
As did the Down emit a Tune —
For Ecstasy — of it