Emily Dickinson

Belshazzar had a Letter —
He never had but one —
Belshazzar’s Correspondent
Concluded and begun
In that immortal Copy
The Conscience of us all
Can read without its Glasses
On Revelation’s Wall –
-Emily Dickinson

Bereavement in their death to feel
Whom We have never seen —
A Vital Kinsmanship import
Our Soul and theirs — between —

For Stranger — Strangers do not mourn —
There be Immortal friends
Whom Death see first — ’tis news of this
That paralyze Ourselves —

Who, vital only to Our Thought —
Such Presence bear away
In dying — ’tis as if Our Souls
Absconded — suddenly —

Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze —

A few incisive Mornings —
A few Ascetic Eves —
Gone — Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod” —
And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.”

Still, is the bustle in the Brook —
Sealed are the spicy valves —
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves —

Perhaps a squirrel may remain —
My sentiments to share —
Grant me, Oh Lord,

Besides this May
We know
There is Another —
How fair
Our Speculations of the Foreigner!

Some know Him whom We knew —
Sweet Wonder —
A Nature be
Where Saints, and our plain going Neighbor
Keep May!
-Emily Dickinson

Best Gains — must have the Losses’ Test —
To constitute them — Gains —
-Emily Dickinson

Best Things dwell out of Sight
The Pearl — the Just — Our Thought.

Most shun the Public Air
Legitimate, and Rare —

The Capsule of the Wind
The Capsule of the Mind

Exhibit here, as doth a Burr —
Germ’s Germ be where?
-Emily Dickinson

Best Witchcraft is Geometry
To the magician’s mind –
His ordinary acts are feats
To thinking of mankind.
-Emily Dickinson

Betrothed to Righteousness might be
An Ecstasy discreet
But Nature relishes the Pinks
Which she was taught to eat –
-Emily Dickinson

Better — than Music! For I — who heard it —
I was used — to the Birds — before —
This — was different — ‘Twas Translation —
Of all tunes I knew — and more —

‘Twasn’t contained — like other stanza —
No one could play it — the second time —
But the Composer — perfect Mozart —
Perish with him — that Keyless Rhyme!

So — Children — told how Brooks in

Between My Country — and the Others —
There is a Sea —
But Flowers — negotiate between us —
As Ministry.
-Emily Dickinson

Between the form of Life and Life
The difference is as big
As Liquor at the Lip between
And Liquor in the Jug
The latter — excellent to keep —
But for ecstatic need
The corkless is superior —
I know for I have tried
-Emily Dickinson

Bind me — I still can sing —
Banish — my mandolin
Strikes true within —

Slay — and my Soul shall rise
Chanting to Paradise —
Still thine.
-Emily Dickinson

Birthday of but a single pang
That there are less to come –
Afflictive is the Adjective
But affluent the doom –
-Emily Dickinson

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple
Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
Then at the feet of the old Horizon
Laying her spotted Face to die
Stooping as low as the Otter’s Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone
-Emily Dickinson

Bless God, he went as soldiers,
His musket on his breast —
Grant God, he charge the bravest
Of all the martial blest!

Please God, might I behold him
In epauletted white —
I should not fear the foe then —
I should not fear the fight!
-Emily Dickinson

Bliss is the plaything of the child –
The secret of the man
The sacred stealth of Boy and Girl
Rebuke it if we can
-Emily Dickinson

Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower
And casually glance
Would scarcely cause one to suspect
The minor Circumstance

Assisting in the Bright Affair
So intricately done
Then offered as a Butterfly
To the Meridian —

To pack the Bud — oppose the Worm —
Obtain its right of Dew —
Adjust the Heat — elude the Wind —
Escape the prowling Bee

Great Nature not to disappoint
Awaiting Her that Day —
To be a Flower, is profound
Responsibility —

Bloom upon the Mountain — stated —
Blameless of a Name —
Efflorescence of a Sunset —
Reproduced — the same —

Seed, had I, my Purple Sowing
Should endow the Day —
Not a Topic of a Twilight —
Show itself away —

Who for tilling — to the Mountain
Come, and disappear —
Whose be Her Renown, or fading,
Witness, is not here —

While I state — the Solemn Petals,
Far as North — and East,
Far as South and

Blossoms will run away,
Cakes reign but a Day,
But Memory like Melody
Is pink Eternally.
-Emily Dickinson

Bound — a trouble —
And lives can bear it!
Limit — how deep a bleeding go!
So — many — drops — of vital scarlet —
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!

Tell it the Ages — to a cypher —
And it will ache — contented — on —
Sing — at its pain — as any Workman —
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!

Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps —
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!

Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin’s ecstasy
Among astonished boughs —
How many trips the Tortoise makes —
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!

Also, who laid the Rainbow’s piers,
Also, who leads the docile

Brother of Ingots – Ah Peru –
Empty the Hearts that purchased you –

–

Sister of Ophir –
Ah, Peru –
Subtle the Sum
That purchase you –

–

Brother of Ophir
Bright Adieu,
Honor, the shortest route
To you.
-Emily Dickinson

But little Carmine hath her face —
Of Emerald scant — her Gown —
Her Beauty — is the love she doth —
Itself — exhibit — Mine —
-Emily Dickinson

By Chivalries as tiny,
A Blossom, or a Book,
The seeds of smiles are planted —
Which blossom in the dark.
-Emily Dickinson