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diff --git a/old/12242.txt b/old/12242.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..75c5e1d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12242.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10739 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems: Three Series, Complete + +Author: Emily Dickinson + +Release Date: May 3, 2004 [EBook #12242] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE. + +The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson +long since called "the Poetry of the Portfolio,"--something produced +absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of +expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably +forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism +and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it +may often gain something through the habit of freedom and the +unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the +present author, there was absolutely no choice in the matter; she +must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, +literally spending years without setting her foot beyond the +doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly +limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, +like her person, from all but a very few friends; and it was with +great difficulty that she was persuaded to print, during her +lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great +abundance; and though brought curiously indifferent to all +conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, +and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own +tenacious fastidiousness. + +Miss Dickinson was born in Amherst, Mass., Dec. 10, 1830, and died +there May 15, 1886. Her father, Hon. Edward Dickinson, was the +leading lawyer of Amherst, and was treasurer of the well-known +college there situated. It was his custom once a year to hold a large +reception at his house, attended by all the families connected with +the institution and by the leading people of the town. On these +occasions his daughter Emily emerged from her wonted retirement and +did her part as gracious hostess; nor would any one have known from +her manner, I have been told, that this was not a daily occurrence. +The annual occasion once past, she withdrew again into her seclusion, +and except for a very few friends was as invisible to the world as if +she had dwelt in a nunnery. For myself, although I had corresponded +with her for many years, I saw her but twice face to face, and +brought away the impression of something as unique and remote as +Undine or Mignon or Thekla. + +This selection from her poems is published to meet the desire of her +personal friends, and especially of her surviving sister. It is +believed that the thoughtful reader will find in these pages a +quality more suggestive of the poetry of William Blake than of +anything to be elsewhere found,--flashes of wholly original and +profound insight into nature and life; words and phrases exhibiting +an extraordinary vividness of descriptive and imaginative power, yet +often set in a seemingly whimsical or even rugged frame. They are +here published as they were written, with very few and superficial +changes; although it is fair to say that the titles have been +assigned, almost invariably, by the editors. In many cases these +verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with +rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and +a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed. In other cases, as in the +few poems of shipwreck or of mental conflict, we can only wonder at +the gift of vivid imagination by which this recluse woman can +delineate, by a few touches, the very crises of physical or mental +struggle. And sometimes again we catch glimpses of a lyric strain, +sustained perhaps but for a line or two at a time, and making the +reader regret its sudden cessation. But the main quality of these +poems is that of extraordinary grasp and insight, uttered with an +uneven vigor sometimes exasperating, seemingly wayward, but really +unsought and inevitable. After all, when a thought takes one's +breath away, a lesson on grammar seems an impertinence. As Ruskin +wrote in his earlier and better days, "No weight nor mass nor beauty +of execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought." + + ---Thomas Wentworth Higginson + + + + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + +As is well documented, Emily Dickinson's poems were edited in these +early editions by her friends, better to fit the conventions of the +times. In particular, her dashes, often small enough to appear +as dots, became commas and semi-colons. + +In the second series of poems published, a facsimile of her +handwritten poem which her editors titled "Renunciation" is given, +and I here transcribe that manuscript as faithfully as I can, +showing _underlined_ words thus. + + +There came a day - at Summer's full - +Entirely for me - +I thought that such were for the Saints - +Where Resurrections - be - + +The sun - as common - went abroad - +The flowers - accustomed - blew, +As if no soul - that solstice passed - +Which maketh all things - new - + +The time was scarce profaned - by speech - +The falling of a word +Was needless - as at Sacrament - +The _Wardrobe_ - of our Lord! + +Each was to each - the sealed church - +Permitted to commune - _this_ time - +Lest we too awkward show +At Supper of "the Lamb." + +The hours slid fast - as hours will - +Clutched tight - by greedy hands - +So - faces on two Decks look back - +Bound to _opposing_ lands. + +And so, when all the time had leaked, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's Crucifix - +We gave no other bond - + +Sufficient troth - that we shall _rise_, +Deposed - at length the Grave - +To that new marriage - +_Justified_ - through Calvaries - of Love! + + +From the handwriting, it is not always clear which are dashes, +which are commas and which are periods, nor it is entirely +clear which initial letters are capitalized. + +However, this transcription may be compared with the edited +version in the main text to get a flavor of the changes made +in these early editions. + + ---JT + + + + + + + + + + + This is my letter to the world, + That never wrote to me, -- + The simple news that Nature told, + With tender majesty. + + Her message is committed + To hands I cannot see; + For love of her, sweet countrymen, + Judge tenderly of me! + + + + + + + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +SUCCESS. + +[Published in "A Masque of Poets" +at the request of "H.H.," the author's +fellow-townswoman and friend.] + +Success is counted sweetest +By those who ne'er succeed. +To comprehend a nectar +Requires sorest need. + +Not one of all the purple host +Who took the flag to-day +Can tell the definition, +So clear, of victory, + +As he, defeated, dying, +On whose forbidden ear +The distant strains of triumph +Break, agonized and clear! + + + + + +II. + +Our share of night to bear, +Our share of morning, +Our blank in bliss to fill, +Our blank in scorning. + +Here a star, and there a star, +Some lose their way. +Here a mist, and there a mist, +Afterwards -- day! + + + + + +III. + +ROUGE ET NOIR. + +Soul, wilt thou toss again? +By just such a hazard +Hundreds have lost, indeed, +But tens have won an all. + +Angels' breathless ballot +Lingers to record thee; +Imps in eager caucus +Raffle for my soul. + + + + + +IV. + +ROUGE GAGNE. + +'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy! +If I should fail, what poverty! +And yet, as poor as I +Have ventured all upon a throw; +Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so +This side the victory! + +Life is but life, and death but death! +Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath! +And if, indeed, I fail, +At least to know the worst is sweet. +Defeat means nothing but defeat, +No drearier can prevail! + +And if I gain, -- oh, gun at sea, +Oh, bells that in the steeples be, +At first repeat it slow! +For heaven is a different thing +Conjectured, and waked sudden in, +And might o'erwhelm me so! + + + + + +V. + +Glee! The great storm is over! +Four have recovered the land; +Forty gone down together +Into the boiling sand. + +Ring, for the scant salvation! +Toll, for the bonnie souls, -- +Neighbor and friend and bridegroom, +Spinning upon the shoals! + +How they will tell the shipwreck +When winter shakes the door, +Till the children ask, "But the forty? +Did they come back no more?" + +Then a silence suffuses the story, +And a softness the teller's eye; +And the children no further question, +And only the waves reply. + + + + + +VI. + +If I can stop one heart from breaking, +I shall not live in vain; +If I can ease one life the aching, +Or cool one pain, +Or help one fainting robin +Unto his nest again, +I shall not live in vain. + + + + + +VII. + +ALMOST! + +Within my reach! +I could have touched! +I might have chanced that way! +Soft sauntered through the village, +Sauntered as soft away! +So unsuspected violets +Within the fields lie low, +Too late for striving fingers +That passed, an hour ago. + + + + + +VIII. + +A wounded deer leaps highest, +I've heard the hunter tell; +'T is but the ecstasy of death, +And then the brake is still. + +The smitten rock that gushes, +The trampled steel that springs; +A cheek is always redder +Just where the hectic stings! + +Mirth is the mail of anguish, +In which it cautions arm, +Lest anybody spy the blood +And "You're hurt" exclaim! + + + + + +IX. + +The heart asks pleasure first, +And then, excuse from pain; +And then, those little anodynes +That deaden suffering; + +And then, to go to sleep; +And then, if it should be +The will of its Inquisitor, +The liberty to die. + + + + + +X. + +IN A LIBRARY. + +A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is +To meet an antique book, +In just the dress his century wore; +A privilege, I think, + +His venerable hand to take, +And warming in our own, +A passage back, or two, to make +To times when he was young. + +His quaint opinions to inspect, +His knowledge to unfold +On what concerns our mutual mind, +The literature of old; + +What interested scholars most, +What competitions ran +When Plato was a certainty. +And Sophocles a man; + +When Sappho was a living girl, +And Beatrice wore +The gown that Dante deified. +Facts, centuries before, + +He traverses familiar, +As one should come to town +And tell you all your dreams were true; +He lived where dreams were sown. + +His presence is enchantment, +You beg him not to go; +Old volumes shake their vellum heads +And tantalize, just so. + + + + + +XI. + +Much madness is divinest sense +To a discerning eye; +Much sense the starkest madness. +'T is the majority +In this, as all, prevails. +Assent, and you are sane; +Demur, -- you're straightway dangerous, +And handled with a chain. +XII. + +I asked no other thing, +No other was denied. +I offered Being for it; +The mighty merchant smiled. + +Brazil? He twirled a button, +Without a glance my way: +"But, madam, is there nothing else +That we can show to-day?" + + + + + +XIII. + +EXCLUSION. + +The soul selects her own society, +Then shuts the door; +On her divine majority +Obtrude no more. + +Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing +At her low gate; +Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling +Upon her mat. + +I've known her from an ample nation +Choose one; +Then close the valves of her attention +Like stone. + + + + + +XIV. + +THE SECRET. + +Some things that fly there be, -- +Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: +Of these no elegy. + +Some things that stay there be, -- +Grief, hills, eternity: +Nor this behooveth me. + +There are, that resting, rise. +Can I expound the skies? +How still the riddle lies! + + + + + +XV. + +THE LONELY HOUSE. + +I know some lonely houses off the road +A robber 'd like the look of, -- +Wooden barred, +And windows hanging low, +Inviting to +A portico, +Where two could creep: +One hand the tools, +The other peep +To make sure all's asleep. +Old-fashioned eyes, +Not easy to surprise! + +How orderly the kitchen 'd look by night, +With just a clock, -- +But they could gag the tick, +And mice won't bark; +And so the walls don't tell, +None will. + +A pair of spectacles ajar just stir -- +An almanac's aware. +Was it the mat winked, +Or a nervous star? +The moon slides down the stair +To see who's there. + +There's plunder, -- where? +Tankard, or spoon, +Earring, or stone, +A watch, some ancient brooch +To match the grandmamma, +Staid sleeping there. + +Day rattles, too, +Stealth's slow; +The sun has got as far +As the third sycamore. +Screams chanticleer, +"Who's there?" +And echoes, trains away, +Sneer -- "Where?" +While the old couple, just astir, +Fancy the sunrise left the door ajar! + + + + + +XVI. + +To fight aloud is very brave, +But gallanter, I know, +Who charge within the bosom, +The cavalry of woe. + +Who win, and nations do not see, +Who fall, and none observe, +Whose dying eyes no country +Regards with patriot love. + +We trust, in plumed procession, +For such the angels go, +Rank after rank, with even feet +And uniforms of snow. + + + + + +XVII. + +DAWN. + +When night is almost done, +And sunrise grows so near +That we can touch the spaces, +It 's time to smooth the hair + +And get the dimples ready, +And wonder we could care +For that old faded midnight +That frightened but an hour. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE BOOK OF MARTYRS. + +Read, sweet, how others strove, +Till we are stouter; +What they renounced, +Till we are less afraid; +How many times they bore +The faithful witness, +Till we are helped, +As if a kingdom cared! + +Read then of faith +That shone above the fagot; +Clear strains of hymn +The river could not drown; +Brave names of men +And celestial women, +Passed out of record +Into renown! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MYSTERY OF PAIN. + +Pain has an element of blank; +It cannot recollect +When it began, or if there were +A day when it was not. + +It has no future but itself, +Its infinite realms contain +Its past, enlightened to perceive +New periods of pain. + + + + + +XX. + +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, through 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 saints to windows run, +To see the little tippler +Leaning against the sun! + + + + + +XXI. + +A BOOK. + +He ate and drank the precious words, +His spirit grew robust; +He knew no more that he was poor, +Nor that his frame was dust. +He danced along the dingy days, +And this bequest of wings +Was but a book. What liberty +A loosened spirit brings! + + + + + +XXII. + +I had no time to hate, because +The grave would hinder me, +And life was not so ample I +Could finish enmity. + +Nor had I time to love; but since +Some industry must be, +The little toil of love, I thought, +Was large enough for me. + + + + + +XXIII. + +UNRETURNING. + +'T was such a little, little boat +That toddled down the bay! +'T was such a gallant, gallant sea +That beckoned it away! + +'T was such a greedy, greedy wave +That licked it from the coast; +Nor ever guessed the stately sails +My little craft was lost! + + + + + +XXIV. + +Whether my bark went down at sea, +Whether she met with gales, +Whether to isles enchanted +She bent her docile sails; + +By what mystic mooring +She is held to-day, -- +This is the errand of the eye +Out upon the bay. + + + + + +XXV. + +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. + + + + + +XXVI. + +The brain within its groove +Runs evenly and true; +But let a splinter swerve, +'T were easier for you +To put the water back +When floods have slit the hills, +And scooped a turnpike for themselves, +And blotted out the mills! + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +MINE. + +Mine by the right of the white election! +Mine by the royal seal! +Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison +Bars cannot conceal! + +Mine, here in vision and in veto! +Mine, by the grave's repeal +Titled, confirmed, -- delirious charter! +Mine, while the ages steal! + + + + + +II. + +BEQUEST. + +You left me, sweet, two legacies, -- +A legacy of love +A Heavenly Father would content, +Had He the offer of; + +You left me boundaries of pain +Capacious as the sea, +Between eternity and time, +Your consciousness and me. + + + + + +III. + +Alter? When the hills do. +Falter? When the sun +Question if his glory +Be the perfect one. + +Surfeit? When the daffodil +Doth of the dew: +Even as herself, O friend! +I will of you! + + + + + +IV. + +SUSPENSE. + +Elysium is as far as to +The very nearest room, +If in that room a friend await +Felicity or doom. + +What fortitude the soul contains, +That it can so endure +The accent of a coming foot, +The opening of a door! + + + + + +V. + +SURRENDER. + +Doubt me, my dim companion! +Why, God would be content +With but a fraction of the love +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 humble maiden, +Whose farthest of degree +Was that she might, +Some distant heaven, +Dwell timidly with thee! + + + + + +VI. + +If you were coming in the fall, +I'd brush the summer by +With half a smile and half a spurn, +As housewives do a fly. + +If I could see you in a year, +I'd wind the months in balls, +And put them each in separate drawers, +Until their time befalls. + +If only centuries delayed, +I'd count them on my hand, +Subtracting till my fingers dropped +Into Van Diemen's land. + +If certain, when this life was out, +That yours and mine should be, +I'd toss it yonder like a rind, +And taste eternity. + +But now, all ignorant of the length +Of time's uncertain wing, +It goads me, like the goblin bee, +That will not state its sting. + + + + + +VII. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That wearing on your breast, +You, unsuspecting, wear me too -- +And angels know the rest. + +I hide myself within my flower, +That, fading from your vase, +You, unsuspecting, feel for me +Almost a loneliness. + + + + + +VIII. + +PROOF. + +That I did always love, +I bring thee proof: +That till I loved +I did not love enough. + +That I shall love alway, +I offer thee +That love is life, +And life hath immortality. + +This, dost thou doubt, sweet? +Then have I +Nothing to show +But Calvary. + + + + + +IX. + +Have you got a brook in your little heart, +Where bashful flowers blow, +And blushing birds go down to drink, +And shadows tremble so? + +And nobody knows, so still it flows, +That any brook is there; +And yet your little draught of life +Is daily drunken there. + +Then look out for the little brook in March, +When the rivers overflow, +And the snows come hurrying from the hills, +And the bridges often go. + +And later, in August it may be, +When the meadows parching lie, +Beware, lest this little brook of life +Some burning noon go dry! + + + + + +X. + +TRANSPLANTED. + +As if some little Arctic flower, +Upon the polar hem, +Went wandering down the latitudes, +Until it puzzled came +To continents of summer, +To firmaments of sun, +To strange, bright crowds of flowers, +And birds of foreign tongue! +I say, as if this little flower +To Eden wandered in -- +What then? Why, nothing, only, +Your inference therefrom! + + + + + +XI. + +THE OUTLET. + +My river runs to thee: +Blue sea, wilt welcome me? + +My river waits reply. +Oh sea, look graciously! + +I'll fetch thee brooks +From spotted nooks, -- + +Say, sea, +Take me! + + + + + +XII. + +IN VAIN. + +I cannot live with you, +It would be life, +And life is over there +Behind the shelf + +The sexton keeps the key to, +Putting up +Our life, his porcelain, +Like a cup + +Discarded of the housewife, +Quaint or broken; +A newer Sevres pleases, +Old ones crack. + +I could not die with you, +For one must wait +To shut the other's gaze down, -- +You could not. + +And I, could I stand by +And see you freeze, +Without my right of frost, +Death's privilege? + +Nor could I rise with you, +Because your face +Would put out Jesus', +That new grace + +Glow plain and foreign +On my homesick eye, +Except that you, than he +Shone closer by. + +They'd judge us -- how? +For you served Heaven, you know, +Or sought to; +I could not, + +Because you saturated sight, +And I had no more eyes +For sordid excellence +As Paradise. + +And were you lost, I would be, +Though my name +Rang loudest +On the heavenly fame. + +And were you saved, +And I condemned to be +Where you were not, +That self were hell to me. + +So we must keep apart, +You there, I here, +With just the door ajar +That oceans are, +And prayer, +And that pale sustenance, +Despair! + + + + + +XIII. + +RENUNCIATION. + +There came a day at summer's full +Entirely for me; +I thought that such were for the saints, +Where revelations be. + +The sun, as common, went abroad, +The flowers, accustomed, blew, +As if no soul the solstice passed +That maketh all things new. + +The time was scarce profaned by speech; +The symbol of a word +Was needless, as at sacrament +The wardrobe of our Lord. + +Each was to each the sealed church, +Permitted to commune this time, +Lest we too awkward show +At supper of the Lamb. + +The hours slid fast, as hours will, +Clutched tight by greedy hands; +So faces on two decks look back, +Bound to opposing lands. + +And so, when all the time had failed, +Without external sound, +Each bound the other's crucifix, +We gave no other bond. + +Sufficient troth that we shall rise -- +Deposed, at length, the grave -- +To that new marriage, justified +Through Calvaries of Love! + + + + + +XIV. + +LOVE'S BAPTISM. + +I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs; +The name they dropped upon my face +With water, in the country church, +Is finished using now, +And they can put it with my dolls, +My childhood, and the string of spools +I've finished threading too. + +Baptized before without the choice, +But this time consciously, of grace +Unto supremest name, +Called to my full, the crescent dropped, +Existence's whole arc filled up +With one small diadem. + +My second rank, too small the first, +Crowned, crowing on my father's breast, +A half unconscious queen; +But this time, adequate, erect, +With will to choose or to reject. +And I choose -- just a throne. + + + + + +XV. + +RESURRECTION. + +'T was a long parting, but the time +For interview had come; +Before the judgment-seat of God, +The last and second time + +These fleshless lovers met, +A heaven in a gaze, +A heaven of heavens, the privilege +Of one another's eyes. + +No lifetime set on them, +Apparelled as the new +Unborn, except they had beheld, +Born everlasting now. + +Was bridal e'er like this? +A paradise, the host, +And cherubim and seraphim +The most familiar guest. + + + + + +XVI. + +APOCALYPSE. + +I'm wife; I've finished that, +That other state; +I'm Czar, I'm woman now: +It's safer so. + +How odd the girl's life looks +Behind this soft eclipse! +I think that earth seems so +To those in heaven now. + +This being comfort, then +That other kind was pain; +But why compare? +I'm wife! stop there! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE WIFE. + +She rose to his requirement, dropped +The playthings of her life +To take the honorable work +Of woman and of wife. + +If aught she missed in her new day +Of amplitude, or awe, +Or first prospective, or the gold +In using wore away, + +It lay unmentioned, as the sea +Develops pearl and weed, +But only to himself is known +The fathoms they abide. + + + + + +XVIII. + +APOTHEOSIS. + +Come slowly, Eden! +Lips unused to thee, +Bashful, sip thy jasmines, +As the fainting bee, + +Reaching late his flower, +Round her chamber hums, +Counts his nectars -- enters, +And is lost in balms! + + + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + +I. + +New feet within my garden go, +New fingers stir the sod; +A troubadour upon the elm +Betrays the solitude. + +New children play upon the green, +New weary sleep below; +And still the pensive spring returns, +And still the punctual snow! + + + + + +II. + +MAY-FLOWER. + +Pink, small, and punctual, +Aromatic, low, +Covert in April, +Candid in May, + +Dear to the moss, +Known by the knoll, +Next to the robin +In every human soul. + +Bold little beauty, +Bedecked with thee, +Nature forswears +Antiquity. + + + + + +III. + +WHY? + +The murmur of a bee +A witchcraft yieldeth me. +If any ask me why, +'T were easier to die +Than tell. + +The red upon the hill +Taketh away my will; +If anybody sneer, +Take care, for God is here, +That's all. + +The breaking of the day +Addeth to my degree; +If any ask me how, +Artist, who drew me so, +Must tell! + + + + + +IV. + +Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower? +But I could never sell. +If you would like to borrow +Until the daffodil + +Unties her yellow bonnet +Beneath the village door, +Until the bees, from clover rows +Their hock and sherry draw, + +Why, I will lend until just then, +But not an hour more! + + + + + +V. + +The pedigree of honey +Does not concern the bee; +A clover, any time, to him +Is aristocracy. + + + + + +VI. + +A SERVICE OF SONG. + +Some keep the Sabbath going to church; +I keep it staying at home, +With a bobolink for a chorister, +And an orchard for a dome. + +Some keep the Sabbath in surplice; +I just wear my wings, +And instead of tolling the bell for church, +Our little sexton sings. + +God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, -- +And the sermon is never long; +So instead of getting to heaven at last, +I'm going all along! + + + + + +VII. + +The bee is not afraid of me, +I know the butterfly; +The pretty people in the woods +Receive me cordially. + +The brooks laugh louder when I come, +The breezes madder play. +Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? +Wherefore, O summer's day? + + + + + +VIII. + +SUMMER'S ARMIES. + +Some rainbow coming from the fair! +Some vision of the world Cashmere +I confidently see! +Or else a peacock's purple train, +Feather by feather, on the plain +Fritters itself away! + +The dreamy butterflies bestir, +Lethargic pools resume the whir +Of last year's sundered tune. +From some old fortress on the sun +Baronial bees march, one by one, +In murmuring platoon! + +The robins stand as thick to-day +As flakes of snow stood yesterday, +On fence and roof and twig. +The orchis binds her feather on +For her old lover, Don the Sun, +Revisiting the bog! + +Without commander, countless, still, +The regiment of wood and hill +In bright detachment stand. +Behold! Whose multitudes are these? +The children of whose turbaned seas, +Or what Circassian land? + + + + + +IX. + +THE GRASS. + +The grass so little has to do, -- +A sphere of simple green, +With only butterflies to brood, +And bees to entertain, + +And stir all day to pretty tunes +The breezes fetch along, +And hold the sunshine in its lap +And bow to everything; + +And thread the dews all night, like pearls, +And make itself so fine, -- +A duchess were too common +For such a noticing. + +And even when it dies, to pass +In odors so divine, +As lowly spices gone to sleep, +Or amulets of pine. + +And then to dwell in sovereign barns, +And dream the days away, -- +The grass so little has to do, +I wish I were the hay! + + + + + +X. + +A little road not made of man, +Enabled of the eye, +Accessible to thill of bee, +Or cart of butterfly. + +If town it have, beyond itself, +'T is that I cannot say; +I only sigh, -- no vehicle +Bears me along that way. + + + + + +XI. + +SUMMER SHOWER. + +A drop fell on the apple tree, +Another on the roof; +A half a dozen kissed the eaves, +And made the gables laugh. + +A few went out to help the brook, +That went to help the sea. +Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, +What necklaces could be! + +The dust replaced in hoisted roads, +The birds jocoser sung; +The sunshine threw his hat away, +The orchards spangles hung. + +The breezes brought dejected lutes, +And bathed them in the glee; +The East put out a single flag, +And signed the fete away. + + + + + +XII. + +PSALM OF THE DAY. + +A something in a summer's day, +As slow her flambeaux burn away, +Which solemnizes me. + +A something in a summer's noon, -- +An azure depth, a wordless tune, +Transcending ecstasy. + +And still within a summer's night +A something so transporting bright, +I clap my hands to see; + +Then veil my too inspecting face, +Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace +Flutter too far for me. + +The wizard-fingers never rest, +The purple brook within the breast +Still chafes its narrow bed; + +Still rears the East her amber flag, +Guides still the sun along the crag +His caravan of red, + +Like flowers that heard the tale of dews, +But never deemed the dripping prize +Awaited their low brows; + +Or bees, that thought the summer's name +Some rumor of delirium +No summer could for them; + +Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred +By tropic hint, -- some travelled bird +Imported to the wood; + +Or wind's bright signal to the ear, +Making that homely and severe, +Contented, known, before + +The heaven unexpected came, +To lives that thought their worshipping +A too presumptuous psalm. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE SEA OF SUNSET. + +This is the land the sunset washes, +These are the banks of the Yellow Sea; +Where it rose, or whither it rushes, +These are the western mystery! + +Night after night her purple traffic +Strews the landing with opal bales; +Merchantmen poise upon horizons, +Dip, and vanish with fairy sails. + + + + + +XIV. + +PURPLE CLOVER. + +There is a flower that bees prefer, +And butterflies desire; +To gain the purple democrat +The humming-birds aspire. + +And whatsoever insect pass, +A honey bears away +Proportioned to his several dearth +And her capacity. + +Her face is rounder than the moon, +And ruddier than the gown +Of orchis in the pasture, +Or rhododendron worn. + +She doth not wait for June; +Before the world is green +Her sturdy little countenance +Against the wind is seen, + +Contending with the grass, +Near kinsman to herself, +For privilege of sod and sun, +Sweet litigants for life. + +And when the hills are full, +And newer fashions blow, +Doth not retract a single spice +For pang of jealousy. + +Her public is the noon, +Her providence the sun, +Her progress by the bee proclaimed +In sovereign, swerveless tune. + +The bravest of the host, +Surrendering the last, +Nor even of defeat aware +When cancelled by the frost. + + + + + +XV. + +THE BEE. + +Like trains of cars on tracks of plush +I hear the level bee: +A jar across the flowers goes, +Their velvet masonry + +Withstands until the sweet assault +Their chivalry consumes, +While he, victorious, tilts away +To vanquish other blooms. + +His feet are shod with gauze, +His helmet is of gold; +His breast, a single onyx +With chrysoprase, inlaid. + +His labor is a chant, +His idleness a tune; +Oh, for a bee's experience +Of clovers and of noon! + + + + + +XVI. + +Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn +Indicative that suns go down; +The notice to the startled grass +That darkness is about to pass. + + + + + +XVII. + +As children bid the guest good-night, +And then reluctant turn, +My flowers raise their pretty lips, +Then put their nightgowns on. + +As children caper when they wake, +Merry that it is morn, +My flowers from a hundred cribs +Will peep, and prance again. + + + + + +XVIII. + +Angels in the early morning +May be seen the dews among, +Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying: +Do the buds to them belong? + +Angels when the sun is hottest +May be seen the sands among, +Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying; +Parched the flowers they bear along. + + + + + +XIX. + +So bashful when I spied her, +So pretty, so ashamed! +So hidden in her leaflets, +Lest anybody find; + +So breathless till I passed her, +So helpless when I turned +And bore her, struggling, blushing, +Her simple haunts beyond! + +For whom I robbed the dingle, +For whom betrayed the dell, +Many will doubtless ask me, +But I shall never tell! + + + + + +XX. + +TWO WORLDS. + +It makes no difference abroad, +The seasons fit the same, +The mornings blossom into noons, +And split their pods of flame. + +Wild-flowers kindle in the woods, +The brooks brag all the day; +No blackbird bates his jargoning +For passing Calvary. + +Auto-da-fe and judgment +Are nothing to the bee; +His separation from his rose +To him seems misery. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOUNTAIN. + +The mountain sat upon the plain +In his eternal chair, +His observation omnifold, +His inquest everywhere. + +The seasons prayed around his knees, +Like children round a sire: +Grandfather of the days is he, +Of dawn the ancestor. + + + + + +XXII. + +A DAY. + +I'll tell you how the sun rose, -- +A ribbon at a time. +The steeples swam in amethyst, +The news like squirrels ran. + +The hills untied their bonnets, +The bobolinks begun. +Then I said softly to myself, +"That must have been the sun!" + + * * * + +But how he set, I know not. +There seemed a purple stile +Which little yellow boys and girls +Were climbing all the while + +Till when they reached the other side, +A dominie in gray +Put gently up the evening bars, +And led the flock away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The butterfly's assumption-gown, +In chrysoprase apartments hung, + This afternoon put on. + +How condescending to descend, +And be of buttercups the friend + In a New England town! + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE WIND. + +Of all the sounds despatched abroad, +There's not a charge to me +Like that old measure in the boughs, +That phraseless melody + +The wind does, working like a hand +Whose fingers brush the sky, +Then quiver down, with tufts of tune +Permitted gods and me. + +When winds go round and round in bands, +And thrum upon the door, +And birds take places overhead, +To bear them orchestra, + +I crave him grace, of summer boughs, +If such an outcast be, +He never heard that fleshless chant +Rise solemn in the tree, + +As if some caravan of sound +On deserts, in the sky, +Had broken rank, +Then knit, and passed +In seamless company. + + + + + +XXV. + +DEATH AND LIFE. + +Apparently with no surprise +To any happy flower, +The frost beheads it at its play +In accidental power. +The blond assassin passes on, +The sun proceeds unmoved +To measure off another day +For an approving God. + + + + + +XXVI. + +'T WAS later when the summer went +Than when the cricket came, +And yet we knew that gentle clock +Meant nought but going home. + +'T was sooner when the cricket went +Than when the winter came, +Yet that pathetic pendulum +Keeps esoteric time. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INDIAN SUMMER. + +These are the days when birds come back, +A very few, a bird or two, +To take a backward look. + +These are the days when skies put on +The old, old sophistries of June, -- +A blue and gold mistake. + +Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, +Almost thy plausibility +Induces my belief, + +Till ranks of seeds their witness bear, +And softly through the altered air +Hurries a timid leaf! + +Oh, sacrament of summer days, +Oh, last communion in the haze, +Permit a child to join, + +Thy sacred emblems to partake, +Thy consecrated bread to break, +Taste thine immortal wine! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AUTUMN. + +The morns are meeker than they were, +The nuts are getting brown; +The berry's cheek is plumper, +The rose is out of town. + +The maple wears a gayer scarf, +The field a scarlet gown. +Lest I should be old-fashioned, +I'll put a trinket on. + + + + + +XXIX. + +BECLOUDED. + +The sky is low, the clouds are mean, +A travelling flake of snow +Across a barn or through a rut +Debates if it will go. + +A narrow wind complains all day +How some one treated him; +Nature, like us, is sometimes caught +Without her diadem. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE HEMLOCK. + +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, +Or 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; +But children on the Don +Beneath his tabernacles play, +And Dnieper wrestlers run. + + + + + +XXXI. + +There's a certain slant of light, +On winter afternoons, +That oppresses, like the weight +Of cathedral tunes. + +Heavenly hurt it gives us; +We can find no scar, +But internal difference +Where the meanings are. + +None may teach it anything, +'T is the seal, despair, -- +An imperial affliction +Sent us of the air. + +When it comes, the landscape listens, +Shadows hold their breath; +When it goes, 't is like the distance +On the look of death. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +One dignity delays for all, +One mitred afternoon. +None can avoid this purple, +None evade this crown. + +Coach it insures, and footmen, +Chamber and state and throng; +Bells, also, in the village, +As we ride grand along. + +What dignified attendants, +What service when we pause! +How loyally at parting +Their hundred hats they raise! + +How pomp surpassing ermine, +When simple you and I +Present our meek escutcheon, +And claim the rank to die! + + + + + +II. + +TOO LATE. + +Delayed till she had ceased to know, +Delayed till in its vest of snow + Her loving bosom lay. +An hour behind the fleeting breath, +Later by just an hour than death, -- + Oh, lagging yesterday! + +Could she have guessed that it would be; +Could but a crier of the glee + Have climbed the distant hill; +Had not the bliss so slow a pace, -- +Who knows but this surrendered face + Were undefeated still? + +Oh, if there may departing be +Any forgot by victory + In her imperial round, +Show them this meek apparelled thing, +That could not stop to be a king, + Doubtful if it be crowned! + + + + + +III. + +ASTRA CASTRA. + +Departed to the judgment, +A mighty afternoon; +Great clouds like ushers leaning, +Creation looking on. + +The flesh surrendered, cancelled, +The bodiless begun; +Two worlds, like audiences, disperse +And leave the soul alone. + + + + + +IV. + +Safe in their alabaster chambers, +Untouched by morning and untouched by noon, +Sleep the meek members of the resurrection, +Rafter of satin, and roof of stone. + +Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine; +Babbles the bee in a stolid ear; +Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence, -- +Ah, what sagacity perished here! + +Grand go the years in the crescent above them; +Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row, +Diadems drop and Doges surrender, +Soundless as dots on a disk of snow. + + + + + +V. + +On this long storm the rainbow rose, +On this late morn the sun; +The clouds, like listless elephants, +Horizons straggled down. + +The birds rose smiling in their nests, +The gales indeed were done; +Alas! how heedless were the eyes +On whom the summer shone! + +The quiet nonchalance of death +No daybreak can bestir; +The slow archangel's syllables +Must awaken her. + + + + + +VI. + +FROM THE CHRYSALIS. + +My cocoon tightens, colors tease, +I'm feeling for the air; +A dim capacity for wings +Degrades the dress I wear. + +A power of butterfly must be +The aptitude to fly, +Meadows of majesty concedes +And easy sweeps of sky. + +So I must baffle at the hint +And cipher at the sign, +And make much blunder, if at last +I take the clew divine. + + + + + +VII. + +SETTING SAIL. + +Exultation is the going +Of an inland soul to sea, -- +Past the houses, past the headlands, +Into deep eternity! + +Bred as we, among the mountains, +Can the sailor understand +The divine intoxication +Of the first league out from land? + + + + + +VIII. + +Look back on time with kindly eyes, +He doubtless did his best; +How softly sinks his trembling sun +In human nature's west! + + + + + +IX. + +A train went through a burial gate, +A bird broke forth and sang, +And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat +Till all the churchyard rang; + +And then adjusted his little notes, +And bowed and sang again. +Doubtless, he thought it meet of him +To say good-by to men. + + + + + +X. + +I died for beauty, but was scarce +Adjusted in the tomb, +When one who died for truth was lain +In an adjoining room. + +He questioned softly why I failed? +"For beauty," I replied. +"And I for truth, -- the two are one; +We brethren are," he said. + +And so, as kinsmen met a night, +We talked between the rooms, +Until the moss had reached our lips, +And covered up our names. + + + + + +XI. + +"TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS." + +How many times these low feet staggered, +Only the soldered mouth can tell; +Try! can you stir the awful rivet? +Try! can you lift the hasps of steel? + +Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often, +Lift, if you can, the listless hair; +Handle the adamantine fingers +Never a thimble more shall wear. + +Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window; +Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane; +Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling -- +Indolent housewife, in daisies lain! + + + + + +XII. + +REAL. + +I like a look of agony, +Because I know it 's true; +Men do not sham convulsion, +Nor simulate a throe. + +The eyes glaze once, and that is death. +Impossible to feign +The beads upon the forehead +By homely anguish strung. + + + + + +XIII. + +THE FUNERAL. + +That short, potential stir +That each can make but once, +That bustle so illustrious +'T is almost consequence, + +Is the eclat of death. +Oh, thou unknown renown +That not a beggar would accept, +Had he the power to spurn! + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to thank her, +But she slept; +Her bed a funnelled stone, +With nosegays at the head and foot, +That travellers had thrown, + +Who went to thank her; +But she slept. +'T was short to cross the sea +To look upon her like, alive, +But turning back 't was slow. + + + + + +XV. + +I've seen a dying eye +Run round and round a room +In search of something, as it seemed, +Then cloudier become; +And then, obscure with fog, +And then be soldered down, +Without disclosing what it be, +'T were blessed to have seen. + + + + + +XVI. + +REFUGE. + +The clouds their backs together laid, +The north begun to push, +The forests galloped till they fell, +The lightning skipped like mice; +The thunder crumbled like a stuff -- +How good to be safe in tombs, +Where nature's temper cannot reach, +Nor vengeance ever comes! + + + + + +XVII. + +I never saw a moor, +I never saw the sea; +Yet know I how the heather looks, +And what a wave must be. + +I never spoke with God, +Nor visited in heaven; +Yet certain am I of the spot +As if the chart were given. + + + + + +XVIII. + +PLAYMATES. + +God permits industrious angels +Afternoons to play. +I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, +All, for him, straightway. + +God calls home the angels promptly +At the setting sun; +I missed mine. How dreary marbles, +After playing Crown! + + + + + +XIX. + +To know just how he suffered would be dear; +To know if any human eyes were near +To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze, +Until it settled firm on Paradise. + +To know if he was patient, part content, +Was dying as he thought, or different; +Was it a pleasant day to die, +And did the sunshine face his way? + +What was his furthest mind, of home, or God, +Or what the distant say +At news that he ceased human nature +On such a day? + +And wishes, had he any? +Just his sigh, accented, +Had been legible to me. +And was he confident until +Ill fluttered out in everlasting well? + +And if he spoke, what name was best, +What first, +What one broke off with +At the drowsiest? + +Was he afraid, or tranquil? +Might he know +How conscious consciousness could grow, +Till love that was, and love too blest to be, +Meet -- and the junction be Eternity? + + + + + +XX. + +The last night that she lived, +It was a common night, +Except the dying; this to us +Made nature different. + +We noticed smallest things, -- +Things overlooked before, +By this great light upon our minds +Italicized, as 't were. + +That others could exist +While she must finish quite, +A jealousy for her arose +So nearly infinite. + +We waited while she passed; +It was a narrow time, +Too jostled were our souls to speak, +At length the notice came. + +She mentioned, and forgot; +Then lightly as a reed +Bent to the water, shivered scarce, +Consented, and was dead. + +And we, we placed the hair, +And drew the head erect; +And then an awful leisure was, +Our faith to regulate. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE FIRST LESSON. + +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 so learned be, +And leave me just my A B C, +Himself could have the skies. + + + + + +XXII. + +The bustle in a house +The morning after death +Is solemnest of industries +Enacted upon earth, -- + +The sweeping up the heart, +And putting love away +We shall not want to use again +Until eternity. + + + + + +XXIII. + +I reason, earth is short, +And anguish absolute, +And many hurt; +But what of that? + +I reason, we could die: +The best vitality +Cannot excel decay; +But what of that? + +I reason that in heaven +Somehow, it will be even, +Some new equation given; +But what of that? + + + + + +XXIV. + +Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? +Not death; for who is he? +The porter of my father's lodge +As much abasheth me. + +Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing +That comprehendeth me +In one or more existences +At Deity's decree. + +Of resurrection? Is the east +Afraid to trust the morn +With her fastidious forehead? +As soon impeach my crown! + + + + + +XXV. + +DYING. + +The sun kept setting, setting still; +No hue of afternoon +Upon the village I perceived, -- +From house to house 't was noon. + +The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; +No dew upon the grass, +But only on my forehead stopped, +And wandered in my face. + +My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, +My fingers were awake; +Yet why so little sound myself +Unto my seeming make? + +How well I knew the light before! +I could not see it now. +'T is dying, I am doing; but +I'm not afraid to know. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Two swimmers wrestled on the spar +Until the morning sun, +When one turned smiling to the land. +O God, the other one! + +The stray ships passing spied a face +Upon the waters borne, +With eyes in death still begging raised, +And hands beseeching thrown. + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE CHARIOT. + +Because I could not stop for Death, +He kindly stopped for me; +The carriage held but just ourselves +And Immortality. + +We slowly drove, he knew no haste, +And I had put away +My labor, and my leisure too, +For his civility. + +We passed the school where children played, +Their lessons scarcely done; +We passed the fields of gazing grain, +We passed the setting sun. + +We paused before a house that seemed +A swelling of the ground; +The roof was scarcely visible, +The cornice but a mound. + +Since then 't is centuries; but each +Feels shorter than the day +I first surmised the horses' heads +Were toward eternity. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +She went as quiet as the dew +From a familiar flower. +Not like the dew did she return +At the accustomed hour! + +She dropt as softly as a star +From out my summer's eve; +Less skilful than Leverrier +It's sorer to believe! + + + + + +XXIX. + +RESURGAM. + +At last to be identified! +At last, the lamps upon thy side, +The rest of life to see! +Past midnight, past the morning star! +Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are +Between our feet and day! + + + + + +XXX. + +Except to heaven, she is nought; +Except for angels, lone; +Except to some wide-wandering bee, +A flower superfluous blown; + +Except for winds, provincial; +Except by butterflies, +Unnoticed as a single dew +That on the acre lies. + +The smallest housewife in the grass, +Yet take her from the lawn, +And somebody has lost the face +That made existence home! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Death is a dialogue between +The spirit and the dust. +"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir, +I have another trust." + +Death doubts it, argues from the ground. +The Spirit turns away, +Just laying off, for evidence, +An overcoat of clay. + + + + + +XXXII. + +It was too late for man, +But early yet for God; +Creation impotent to help, +But prayer remained our side. + +How excellent the heaven, +When earth cannot be had; +How hospitable, then, the face +Of our old neighbor, God! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +ALONG THE POTOMAC. + +When I was small, a woman died. +To-day her only boy +Went up from the Potomac, +His face all victory, + +To look at her; how slowly +The seasons must have turned +Till bullets clipt an angle, +And he passed quickly round! + +If pride shall be in Paradise +I never can decide; +Of their imperial conduct, +No person testified. + +But proud in apparition, +That woman and her boy +Pass back and forth before my brain, +As ever in the sky. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +The daisy follows soft the sun, +And when his golden walk is done, + Sits shyly at his feet. +He, waking, finds the flower near. +"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" + "Because, sir, love is sweet!" + +We are the flower, Thou the sun! +Forgive us, if as days decline, + We nearer steal to Thee, -- +Enamoured of the parting west, +The peace, the flight, the amethyst, + Night's possibility! + + + + + +XXXV. + +EMANCIPATION. + +No rack can torture me, +My soul's at liberty +Behind this mortal bone +There knits a bolder one + +You cannot prick with saw, +Nor rend with scymitar. +Two bodies therefore be; +Bind one, and one will flee. + +The eagle of his nest +No easier divest +And gain the sky, +Than mayest thou, + +Except thyself may be +Thine enemy; +Captivity is consciousness, +So's liberty. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST. + +I lost a world the other day. +Has anybody found? +You'll know it by the row of stars +Around its forehead bound. + +A rich man might not notice it; +Yet to my frugal eye +Of more esteem than ducats. +Oh, find it, sir, for me! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +If I shouldn't be alive +When the robins come, +Give the one in red cravat +A memorial crumb. + +If I couldn't thank you, +Being just asleep, +You will know I'm trying +With my granite lip! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +Sleep is supposed to be, +By souls of sanity, +The shutting of the eye. + +Sleep is the station grand +Down which on either hand +The hosts of witness stand! + +Morn is supposed to be, +By people of degree, +The breaking of the day. + +Morning has not occurred! +That shall aurora be +East of eternity; + +One with the banner gay, +One in the red array, -- +That is the break of day. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +I shall know why, when time is over, +And I have ceased to wonder why; +Christ will explain each separate anguish +In the fair schoolroom of the sky. + +He will tell me what Peter promised, +And I, for wonder at his woe, +I shall forget the drop of anguish +That scalds me now, that scalds me now. + + + + + +XL. + +I never lost as much but twice, +And that was in the sod; +Twice have I stood a beggar +Before the door of God! + +Angels, twice descending, +Reimbursed my store. +Burglar, banker, father, +I am poor once more! + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Second Series + + + + +Edited by two of her friends + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON + + + + +PREFACE + +The eagerness with which the first volume of Emily Dickinson's +poems has been read shows very clearly that all our alleged modern +artificiality does not prevent a prompt appreciation of the +qualities of directness and simplicity in approaching the greatest +themes,--life and love and death. That "irresistible needle-touch," +as one of her best critics has called it, piercing at once the very +core of a thought, has found a response as wide and sympathetic as +it has been unexpected even to those who knew best her compelling +power. This second volume, while open to the same criticism as to +form with its predecessor, shows also the same shining beauties. + +Although Emily Dickinson had been in the habit of sending +occasional poems to friends and correspondents, the full extent of +her writing was by no means imagined by them. Her friend "H.H." +must at least have suspected it, for in a letter dated 5th +September, 1884, she wrote:-- + + +MY DEAR FRIEND,-- What portfolios full of verses +you must have! It is a cruel wrong to your "day and +generation" that you will not give them light. + +If such a thing should happen as that I should outlive +you, I wish you would make me your literary legatee +and executor. Surely after you are what is called +"dead" you will be willing that the poor ghosts you +have left behind should be cheered and pleased by your +verses, will you not? You ought to be. I do not think +we have a right to withhold from the world a word or +a thought any more than a deed which might help a +single soul. . . . + + Truly yours, + + HELEN JACKSON. + + +The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death, +by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most of the poems had +been carefully copied on sheets of note-paper, and tied in little +fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many of them bear +evidence of having been thrown off at white heat, still more had +received thoughtful revision. There is the frequent addition of +rather perplexing foot-notes, affording large choice of words and +phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends, sometimes one +form, sometimes another, is found to have been used. Without +important exception, her friends have generously placed at the +disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and +these have given the obvious advantage of comparison among several +renderings of the same verse. + +To what further rigorous pruning her verses would have been +subjected had she published them herself, we cannot know. They +should be regarded in many cases as merely the first strong and +suggestive sketches of an artist, intended to be embodied at some +time in the finished picture. + +Emily Dickinson appears to have written her first poems in the +winter of 1862. In a letter to oone of the present Editors the +April following, she says, "I made no verse, but one or two, until +this winter." + +The handwriting was at first somewhat like the delicate, running +Italian hand of our elder gentlewomen; but as she advanced in +breadth of thought, it grew bolder and more abrupt, until in her +latest years each letter stood distinct and separate from its +fellows. In most of her poems, particularly the later ones, +everything by way of punctuation was discarded, except numerous +dashes; and all important words began with capitals. The effect of +a page of her more recent manuscript is exceedingly quaint and +strong. The fac-simile given in the present volume is from one of +the earlier transition periods. Although there is nowhere a date, +the handwriting makes it possible to arrange the poems with general +chronologic accuracy. + +As a rule, the verses were without titles; but "A Country Burial," +"A Thunder-Storm," "The Humming-Bird," and a few others were named +by their author, frequently at the end,--sometimes only in the +accompanying note, if sent to a friend. + +The variation of readings, with the fact that she often wrote in +pencil and not always clearly, have at times thrown a good deal of +responsibility upon her Editors. But all interference not +absolutely inevitable has been avoided. The very roughness of her +rendering is part of herself, and not lightly to be touched; for it +seems in many cases that she intentionally avoided the smoother and +more usual rhymes. + +Like impressionist pictures, or Wagner's rugged music, the very +absence of conventional form challenges attention. In Emily +Dickinson's exacting hands, the especial, intrinsic fitness of a +particular order of words might not be sacrificed to anything +virtually extrinsic; and her verses all show a strange cadence of +inner rhythmical music. Lines are always daringly constructed, and +the "thought-rhyme" appears frequently,--appealing, indeed, to an +unrecognized sense more elusive than hearing. + +Emily Dickinson scrutinized everything with clear-eyed frankness. +Every subject was proper ground for legitimate study, even the +sombre facts of death and burial, and the unknown life beyond. She +touches these themes sometimes lightly, sometimes almost +humorously, more often with weird and peculiar power; but she is +never by any chance frivolous or trivial. And while, as one critic +has said, she may exhibit toward God "an Emersonian self-possession," +it was because she looked upon all life with a candor as unprejudiced +as it is rare. + +She had tried society and the world, and found them lacking. She +was not an invalid, and she lived in seclusion from no +love-disappointment. Her life was the normal blossoming of a nature +introspective to a high degree, whose best thought could not exist +in pretence. + +Storm, wind, the wild March sky, sunsets and dawns; the birds and +bees, butterflies and flowers of her garden, with a few trusted +human friends, were sufficient companionship. The coming of the +first robin was a jubilee beyond crowning of monarch or birthday of +pope; the first red leaf hurrying through "the altered air," an +epoch. Immortality was close about her; and while never morbid or +melancholy, she lived in its presence. + + MABEL LOOMIS TODD. + + AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS, + August, I891. + + + + + + + + + + + + My nosegays are for captives; + Dim, long-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. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +I'm nobody! Who are you? +Are you nobody, too? +Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell! +They 'd banish us, you know. + +How dreary to be somebody! +How public, like a frog +To tell your name the livelong day +To an admiring bog! + + + + + +II. + +I bring an unaccustomed wine +To lips long parching, next to mine, +And summon them to drink. + +Crackling with fever, they essay; +I turn my brimming eyes away, +And come next hour to look. + +The hands still hug the tardy glass; +The lips I would have cooled, alas! +Are so superfluous cold, + +I would as soon attempt to warm +The bosoms where the frost has lain +Ages beneath the mould. + +Some other thirsty there may be +To whom this would have pointed me +Had it remained to speak. + +And so I always bear the cup +If, haply, mine may be the drop +Some pilgrim thirst to slake, -- + +If, haply, any say to me, +"Unto the little, unto me," +When I at last awake. + + + + + +III. + +The nearest dream recedes, unrealized. + The heaven we chase + Like the June bee + Before the school-boy + Invites the race; + Stoops to an easy clover -- +Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys; + Then to the royal clouds + Lifts his light pinnace + Heedless of the boy +Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky. + + Homesick for steadfast honey, + Ah! the bee flies not +That brews that rare variety. + + + + + +IV. + +We play at paste, +Till qualified for pearl, +Then drop the paste, +And deem ourself a fool. +The shapes, though, were similar, +And our new hands +Learned gem-tactics +Practising sands. + + + + + +V. + +I found the phrase to every thought +I ever had, but one; +And that defies me, -- as a hand +Did try to chalk the sun + +To races nurtured in the dark; -- +How would your own begin? +Can blaze be done in cochineal, +Or noon in mazarin? + + + + + +VI. + +HOPE. + +Hope is the thing with feathers +That perches in the soul, +And sings the tune without the words, +And never stops at all, + +And sweetest in the gale is heard; +And sore must be the storm +That could abash the little bird +That kept so many warm. + +I 've heard it in the chillest land, +And on the strangest sea; +Yet, never, in extremity, +It asked a crumb of me. + + + + + +VII. + +THE WHITE HEAT. + +Dare you see a soul at the white heat? + Then crouch within the door. +Red is the fire's common tint; + But when the vivid ore + +Has sated flame's conditions, + Its quivering substance plays +Without a color but the light + Of unanointed blaze. + +Least village boasts its blacksmith, + Whose anvil's even din +Stands symbol for the finer forge + That soundless tugs within, + +Refining these impatient ores + With hammer and with blaze, +Until the designated light + Repudiate the forge. + + + + + +VIII. + +TRIUMPHANT. + +Who never lost, are unprepared +A coronet to find; +Who never thirsted, flagons +And cooling tamarind. + +Who never climbed the weary league -- +Can such a foot explore +The purple territories +On Pizarro's shore? + +How many legions overcome? +The emperor will say. +How many colors taken +On Revolution Day? + +How many bullets bearest? +The royal scar hast thou? +Angels, write "Promoted" +On this soldier's brow! + + + + + +IX. + +THE TEST. + +I can wade grief, +Whole pools of it, -- +I 'm used to that. +But the least push of joy +Breaks up my feet, +And I tip -- drunken. +Let no pebble smile, +'T was the new liquor, -- +That was all! + +Power is only pain, +Stranded, through discipline, +Till weights will hang. +Give balm to giants, +And they 'll wilt, like men. +Give Himmaleh, -- +They 'll carry him! + + + + + +X. + +ESCAPE. + +I never hear the word "escape" +Without a quicker blood, +A sudden expectation, +A flying attitude. + +I never hear of prisons broad +By soldiers battered down, +But I tug childish at my bars, -- +Only to fail again! + + + + + + +XI. + +COMPENSATION. + +For each ecstatic instant +We must an anguish pay +In keen and quivering ratio +To the ecstasy. + +For each beloved hour +Sharp pittances of years, +Bitter contested farthings +And coffers heaped with tears. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MARTYRS. + +Through the straight pass of suffering +The martyrs even trod, +Their feet upon temptation, +Their faces upon God. + +A stately, shriven company; +Convulsion playing round, +Harmless as streaks of meteor +Upon a planet's bound. + +Their faith the everlasting troth; +Their expectation fair; +The needle to the north degree +Wades so, through polar air. + + + + + +XIII. + +A PRAYER. + +I meant to have but modest needs, +Such as content, and heaven; +Within my income these could lie, +And life and I keep even. + +But since the last included both, +It would suffice my prayer +But just for one to stipulate, +And grace would grant the pair. + +And so, upon this wise I prayed, -- +Great Spirit, give to me +A heaven not so large as yours, +But large enough for me. + +A smile suffused Jehovah's face; +The cherubim withdrew; +Grave saints stole out to look at me, +And showed their dimples, too. + +I left the place with all my might, -- +My prayer away I threw; +The quiet ages picked it up, +And Judgment twinkled, too, + +That one so honest be extant +As take the tale for true +That "Whatsoever you shall ask, +Itself be given you." + +But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies +With a suspicious air, -- +As children, swindled for the first, +All swindlers be, infer. + + + + + +XIV. + +The thought beneath so slight a film +Is more distinctly seen, -- +As laces just reveal the surge, +Or mists the Apennine. + + + + + +XV. + +The soul unto itself +Is an imperial friend, -- +Or the most agonizing spy +An enemy could send. + +Secure against its own, +No treason it can fear; +Itself its sovereign, of itself +The soul should stand in awe. + + + + + +XVI. + +Surgeons must be very careful +When they take the knife! +Underneath their fine incisions +Stirs the culprit, -- Life! + + + + + +XVII. + +THE RAILWAY TRAIN. + +I like to see it lap the miles, +And lick the valleys up, +And stop to feed itself at tanks; +And then, prodigious, step + +Around a pile of mountains, +And, supercilious, peer +In shanties by the sides of roads; +And then a quarry pare + +To fit its sides, and crawl between, +Complaining all the while +In horrid, hooting stanza; +Then chase itself down hill + +And neigh like Boanerges; +Then, punctual as a star, +Stop -- docile and omnipotent -- +At its own stable door. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SHOW. + +The show is not the show, +But they that go. +Menagerie to me +My neighbor be. +Fair play -- +Both went to see. + + + + + +XIX. + +Delight becomes pictorial +When viewed through pain, -- +More fair, because impossible +That any gain. + +The mountain at a given distance +In amber lies; +Approached, the amber flits a little, -- +And that 's the skies! + + + + + +XX. + +A thought went up my mind to-day +That I have had before, +But did not finish, -- some way back, +I could not fix the year, + +Nor where it went, nor why it came +The second time to me, +Nor definitely what it was, +Have I the art to say. + +But somewhere in my soul, I know +I 've met the thing before; +It just reminded me -- 't was all -- +And came my way no more. + + + + + +XXI. + +Is Heaven a physician? +They say that He can heal, +But medicine posthumous + Is unavailable. + +Is Heaven an exchequer? + They speak of what we owe; +But that negotiation + I 'm not a party to. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE RETURN. + +Though I get home how late, how late! +So I get home, 't will compensate. +Better will be the ecstasy +That they have done expecting me, +When, night descending, dumb and dark, +They hear my unexpected knock. +Transporting must the moment be, +Brewed from decades of agony! + +To think just how the fire will burn, +Just how long-cheated eyes will turn +To wonder what myself will say, +And what itself will say to me, +Beguiles the centuries of way! + + + + + +XXIII. + +A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, +That sat it down to rest, +Nor noticed that the ebbing day +Flowed silver to the west, +Nor noticed night did soft descend +Nor constellation burn, +Intent upon the vision +Of latitudes unknown. + +The angels, happening that way, +This dusty heart espied; +Tenderly took it up from toil +And carried it to God. +There, -- sandals for the barefoot; +There, -- gathered from the gales, +Do the blue havens by the hand +Lead the wandering sails. + + + + + +XXIV. + +TOO MUCH. + +I should have been too glad, I see, +Too lifted for the scant degree + Of life's penurious round; +My little circuit would have shamed +This new circumference, have blamed + The homelier time behind. + +I should have been too saved, I see, +Too rescued; fear too dim to me + That I could spell the prayer +I knew so perfect yesterday, -- +That scalding one, "Sabachthani," + Recited fluent here. + +Earth would have been too much, I see, +And heaven not enough for me; + I should have had the joy +Without the fear to justify, -- +The palm without the Calvary; + So, Saviour, crucify. + +Defeat whets victory, they say; +The reefs in old Gethsemane + Endear the shore beyond. +'T is beggars banquets best define; +'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, -- + Faith faints to understand. + + + + + +XXV. + +SHIPWRECK. + +It tossed and tossed, -- +A little brig I knew, -- +O'ertook by blast, +It spun and spun, +And groped delirious, for morn. + +It slipped and slipped, +As one that drunken stepped; +Its white foot tripped, +Then dropped from sight. + +Ah, brig, good-night +To crew and you; +The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue, +To break for you. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Victory comes late, +And is held low to freezing lips +Too rapt with frost +To take it. +How sweet it would have tasted, +Just a drop! +Was God so economical? +His table 's spread too high for us +Unless we dine on tip-toe. +Crumbs fit such little mouths, +Cherries suit robins; +The eagle's golden breakfast +Strangles them. +God keeps his oath to sparrows, +Who of little love +Know how to starve! + + + + + +XXVII. + +ENOUGH. + +God gave a loaf to every bird, +But just a crumb to me; +I dare not eat it, though I starve, -- +My poignant luxury +To own it, touch it, prove the feat +That made the pellet mine, -- +Too happy in my sparrow chance +For ampler coveting. + +It might be famine all around, +I could not miss an ear, +Such plenty smiles upon my board, +My garner shows so fair. +I wonder how the rich may feel, -- +An Indiaman -- an Earl? +I deem that I with but a crumb +Am sovereign of them all. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +Experiment to me +Is every one I meet. +If it contain a kernel? +The figure of a nut + +Presents upon a tree, +Equally plausibly; +But meat within is requisite, +To squirrels and to me. + + + + + +XXIX. + +MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE. + +My country need not change her gown, +Her triple suit as sweet +As when 't was 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. + + + + + +XXX. + +Faith is a fine invention +For gentlemen who see; +But microscopes are prudent +In an emergency! + + + + + +XXXI. + +Except the heaven had come so near, +So seemed to choose my door, +The distance would not haunt me so; +I had not hoped before. + +But just to hear the grace depart +I never thought to see, +Afflicts me with a double loss; +'T is lost, and lost to me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +Portraits are to daily faces +As an evening west +To a fine, pedantic sunshine +In a satin vest. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +THE DUEL. + +I took my power in my hand. +And went against the world; +'T was not so much as David had, +But I was twice as bold. + +I aimed my pebble, but myself +Was all the one that fell. +Was it Goliath was too large, +Or only I too small? + + + + + +XXXIV. + +A shady friend for torrid days +Is easier to find +Than one of higher temperature +For frigid hour of mind. + +The vane a little to the east +Scares muslin souls away; +If broadcloth breasts are firmer +Than those of organdy, + +Who is to blame? The weaver? +Ah! the bewildering thread! +The tapestries of paradise +So notelessly are made! + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE GOAL. + +Each life converges to some centre +Expressed or still; +Exists in every human nature +A goal, + +Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be, +Too fair +For credibility's temerity +To dare. + +Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven, +To reach +Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment +To touch, + +Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance; +How high +Unto the saints' slow diligence +The sky! + +Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture, +But then, +Eternity enables the endeavoring +Again. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +SIGHT. + +Before I got my eye put out, +I liked as well to see +As other creatures that have eyes, +And know no other way. + +But were it told to me, to-day, +That I might have the sky +For mine, I tell you that my heart +Would split, for size of me. + +The meadows mine, the mountains mine, -- +All forests, stintless stars, +As much of noon as I could take +Between my finite eyes. + +The motions of the dipping birds, +The lightning's jointed road, +For mine to look at when I liked, -- +The news would strike me dead! + +So safer, guess, with just my soul +Upon the window-pane +Where other creatures put their eyes, +Incautious of the sun. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +Talk with prudence to a beggar +Of 'Potosi' and the mines! +Reverently to the hungry +Of your viands and your wines! + +Cautious, hint to any captive +You have passed enfranchised feet! +Anecdotes of air in dungeons +Have sometimes proved deadly sweet! + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +THE PREACHER. + +He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, -- +The broad are too broad to define; +And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, -- +The truth never flaunted a sign. + +Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence +As gold the pyrites would shun. +What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus +To meet so enabled a man! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Good night! which put the candle out? +A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. + Ah! friend, you little knew +How long at that celestial wick +The angels labored diligent; + Extinguished, now, for you! + +It might have been the lighthouse spark +Some sailor, rowing in the dark, + Had importuned to see! +It might have been the waning lamp +That lit the drummer from the camp + To purer reveille! + + + + + +XL. + +When I hoped I feared, +Since I hoped I dared; +Everywhere alone +As a church remain; +Spectre cannot harm, +Serpent cannot charm; +He deposes doom, +Who hath suffered him. + + + + + +XLI. + +DEED. + +A deed knocks first at thought, +And then it knocks at will. +That is the manufacturing spot, +And will at home and well. + +It then goes out an act, +Or is entombed so still +That only to the ear of God +Its doom is audible. + + + + + +XLII. + +TIME'S LESSON. + +Mine enemy is growing old, -- +I have at last revenge. +The palate of the hate departs; +If any would avenge, -- + +Let him be quick, the viand flits, +It is a faded meat. +Anger as soon as fed is dead; +'T is starving makes it fat. + + + + + +XLIII. + +REMORSE. + +Remorse is memory awake, +Her companies astir, -- +A presence of departed acts +At window and at door. + +It's past set down before the soul, +And lighted with a match, +Perusal to facilitate +Of its condensed despatch. + +Remorse is cureless, -- the disease +Not even God can heal; +For 't is his institution, -- +The complement of hell. + + + + + +XLIV. + +THE SHELTER. + +The body grows outside, -- +The more convenient way, -- +That if the spirit like to hide, +Its temple stands alway + +Ajar, secure, inviting; +It never did betray +The soul that asked its shelter +In timid honesty. + + + + + +XLV. + +Undue significance a starving man attaches +To food +Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless, +And therefore good. + +Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us +That spices fly +In the receipt. It was the distance +Was savory. + + + + + +XLVI. + +Heart not so heavy as mine, +Wending late home, +As it passed my window +Whistled itself a tune, -- + +A careless snatch, a ballad, +A ditty of the street; +Yet to my irritated ear +An anodyne so sweet, + +It was as if a bobolink, +Sauntering this way, +Carolled and mused and carolled, +Then bubbled slow away. + +It was as if a chirping brook +Upon a toilsome way +Set bleeding feet to minuets +Without the knowing why. + +To-morrow, night will come again, +Weary, perhaps, and sore. +Ah, bugle, by my window, +I pray you stroll once more! + + + + + +XLVII. + +I many times thought peace had come, +When peace was far away; +As wrecked men deem they sight the land +At centre of the sea, + +And struggle slacker, but to prove, +As hopelessly as I, +How many the fictitious shores +Before the harbor lie. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +Unto my books so good to turn +Far ends of tired days; +It half endears the abstinence, +And pain is missed in praise. + +As flavors cheer retarded guests +With banquetings to be, +So spices stimulate the time +Till my small library. + +It may be wilderness without, +Far feet of failing men, +But holiday excludes the night, +And it is bells within. + +I thank these kinsmen of the shelf; +Their countenances bland +Enamour in prospective, +And satisfy, obtained. + + + + + +XLIX. + +This merit hath the worst, -- +It cannot be again. +When Fate hath taunted last +And thrown her furthest stone, + +The maimed may pause and breathe, +And glance securely round. +The deer invites no longer +Than it eludes the hound. + + + + + +L. + +HUNGER. + +I had been hungry all the years; +My noon had come, to dine; +I, trembling, drew the table near, +And touched the curious wine. + +'T was this on tables I had seen, +When turning, hungry, lone, +I looked in windows, for the wealth +I could not hope to own. + +I did not know the ample bread, +'T was so unlike the crumb +The birds and I had often shared +In Nature's dining-room. + +The plenty hurt me, 't was so new, -- +Myself felt ill and odd, +As berry of a mountain bush +Transplanted to the road. + +Nor was I hungry; so I found +That hunger was a way +Of persons outside windows, +The entering takes away. + + + + + +LI. + +I gained it so, + By climbing slow, +By catching at the twigs that grow +Between the bliss and me. + It hung so high, + As well the sky + Attempt by strategy. + + +I said I gained it, -- + This was all. +Look, how I clutch it, + Lest it fall, +And I a pauper go; +Unfitted by an instant's grace +For the contented beggar's face +I wore an hour ago. + + + + + +LII. + +To learn the transport by the pain, +As blind men learn the sun; +To die of thirst, suspecting +That brooks in meadows run; + +To stay the homesick, homesick feet +Upon a foreign shore +Haunted by native lands, the while, +And blue, beloved air -- + +This is the sovereign anguish, +This, the signal woe! +These are the patient laureates +Whose voices, trained below, + +Ascend in ceaseless carol, +Inaudible, indeed, +To us, the duller scholars +Of the mysterious bard! + + + + + +LIII. + +RETURNING. + +I years had been from home, +And now, before the door, +I dared not open, lest a face +I never saw before + +Stare vacant into mine +And ask my business there. +My business, -- just a life I left, +Was such still dwelling there? + +I fumbled at my nerve, +I scanned the windows near; +The silence like an ocean rolled, +And broke against my ear. + +I laughed a wooden laugh +That I could fear a door, +Who danger and the dead had faced, +But never quaked before. + +I fitted to the latch +My hand, with trembling care, +Lest back the awful door should spring, +And leave me standing there. + +I moved my fingers off +As cautiously as glass, +And held my ears, and like a thief +Fled gasping from the house. + + + + + +LIV. + +PRAYER. + +Prayer is the little implement +Through which men reach +Where presence is denied them. +They fling their speech + +By means of it in God's ear; +If then He hear, +This sums the apparatus +Comprised in prayer. + + + + + +LV. + +I know that he exists +Somewhere, in silence. +He has hid his rare life +From our gross eyes. + +'T is an instant's play, +'T is a fond ambush, +Just to make bliss +Earn her own surprise! + +But should the play +Prove piercing earnest, +Should the glee glaze +In death's stiff stare, + +Would not the fun +Look too expensive? +Would not the jest +Have crawled too far? + + + + + +LVI. + +MELODIES UNHEARD. + +Musicians wrestle everywhere: +All day, among the crowded air, + I hear the silver strife; +And -- waking long before the dawn -- +Such transport breaks upon the town + I think it that "new life!" + +It is not bird, it has no nest; +Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed, + Nor tambourine, nor man; +It is not hymn from pulpit read, -- +The morning stars the treble led + On time's first afternoon! + +Some say it is the spheres at play! +Some say that bright majority + Of vanished dames and men! +Some think it service in the place +Where we, with late, celestial face, + Please God, shall ascertain! + + + + + +LVII. + +CALLED BACK. + +Just lost when I was saved! +Just felt the world go by! +Just girt me for the onset with eternity, +When breath blew back, +And on the other side +I heard recede the disappointed tide! + +Therefore, as one returned, I feel, +Odd secrets of the line to tell! +Some sailor, skirting foreign shores, +Some pale reporter from the awful doors +Before the seal! + +Next time, to stay! +Next time, the things to see +By ear unheard, +Unscrutinized by eye. + +Next time, to tarry, +While the ages steal, -- +Slow tramp the centuries, +And the cycles wheel. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CHOICE. + +Of all the souls that stand create +I have elected one. +When sense from spirit files away, +And subterfuge is done; + +When that which is and that which was +Apart, intrinsic, stand, +And this brief tragedy of flesh +Is shifted like a sand; + +When figures show their royal front +And mists are carved away, -- +Behold the atom I preferred +To all the lists of clay! + + + + + +II. + +I have no life but this, +To lead it here; +Nor any death, but lest +Dispelled from there; + +Nor tie to earths to come, +Nor action new, +Except through this extent, +The realm of you. + + + + + +III. + +Your riches taught me poverty. +Myself a millionnaire +In little wealths, -- as girls could boast, -- +Till broad as Buenos Ayre, + +You drifted your dominions +A different Peru; +And I esteemed all poverty, +For life's estate with you. + +Of mines I little know, myself, +But just the names of gems, -- +The colors of the commonest; +And scarce of diadems + +So much that, did I meet the queen, +Her glory I should know: +But this must be a different wealth, +To miss it beggars so. + +I 'm sure 't is India all day +To those who look on you +Without a stint, without a blame, -- +Might I but be the Jew! + +I 'm sure it is Golconda, +Beyond my power to deem, -- +To have a smile for mine each day, +How better than a gem! + +At least, it solaces to know +That there exists a gold, +Although I prove it just in time +Its distance to behold! + +It 's far, far treasure to surmise, +And estimate the pearl +That slipped my simple fingers through +While just a girl at school! + + + + + +IV. + +THE CONTRACT. + +I gave myself to him, +And took himself for pay. +The solemn contract of a life +Was ratified this way. + +The wealth might disappoint, +Myself a poorer prove +Than this great purchaser suspect, +The daily own of Love + +Depreciate the vision; +But, till the merchant buy, +Still fable, in the isles of spice, +The subtle cargoes lie. + +At least, 't is mutual risk, -- +Some found it mutual gain; +Sweet debt of Life, -- each night to owe, +Insolvent, every noon. + + + + + +V. + +THE LETTER. + +"GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him -- +Tell him the page I didn't write; +Tell him I only said the syntax, +And left the verb and the pronoun out. +Tell him just how the fingers hurried, +Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow; +And then you wished you had eyes in your pages, +So you could see what moved them so. + +"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer, +You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled; +You could hear the bodice tug, behind you, +As if it held but the might of a child; +You almost pitied it, you, it worked so. +Tell him -- No, you may quibble there, +For it would split his heart to know it, +And then you and I were silenter. + +"Tell him night finished before we finished, +And the old clock kept neighing 'day!' +And you got sleepy and begged to be ended -- +What could it hinder so, to say? +Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious, +But if he ask where you are hid +Until to-morrow, -- happy letter! +Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!" + + + + + +VI. + +The way I read a letter 's this: +'T is first I lock the door, +And push it with my fingers next, +For transport it be sure. + +And then I go the furthest off +To counteract a knock; +Then draw my little letter forth +And softly pick its lock. + +Then, glancing narrow at the wall, +And narrow at the floor, +For firm conviction of a mouse +Not exorcised before, + +Peruse how infinite I am +To -- no one that you know! +And sigh for lack of heaven, -- but not +The heaven the creeds bestow. + + + + + +VII. + +Wild nights! Wild nights! +Were I with thee, +Wild nights should be +Our luxury! + +Futile the winds +To a heart in port, -- +Done with the compass, +Done with the chart. + +Rowing in Eden! +Ah! the sea! +Might I but moor +To-night in thee! + + + + + +VIII. + +AT HOME. + +The night was wide, and furnished scant +With but a single star, +That often as a cloud it met +Blew out itself for fear. + +The wind pursued the little bush, +And drove away the leaves +November left; then clambered up +And fretted in the eaves. + +No squirrel went abroad; +A dog's belated feet +Like intermittent plush were heard +Adown the empty street. + +To feel if blinds be fast, +And closer to the fire +Her little rocking-chair to draw, +And shiver for the poor, + +The housewife's gentle task. +"How pleasanter," said she +Unto the sofa opposite, +"The sleet than May -- no thee!" + + + + + +IX. + +POSSESSION. + +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? + + + + + +X. + +A charm invests a face +Imperfectly beheld, -- +The lady dare not lift her veil +For fear it be dispelled. + +But peers beyond her mesh, +And wishes, and denies, -- +Lest interview annul a want +That image satisfies. + + + + + +XI. + +THE LOVERS. + +The rose did caper on her cheek, +Her bodice rose and fell, +Her pretty speech, like drunken men, +Did stagger pitiful. + +Her fingers fumbled at her work, -- +Her needle would not go; +What ailed so smart a little maid +It puzzled me to know, + +Till opposite I spied a cheek +That bore another rose; +Just opposite, another speech +That like the drunkard goes; + +A vest that, like the bodice, danced +To the immortal tune, -- +Till those two troubled little clocks +Ticked softly into one. + + + + + +XII. + +In lands I never saw, they say, +Immortal Alps look down, +Whose bonnets touch the firmament, +Whose sandals touch the town, -- + +Meek at whose everlasting feet +A myriad daisies play. +Which, sir, are you, and which am I, +Upon an August day? + + + + + +XIII. + +The moon is distant from the sea, +And yet with amber hands +She leads him, docile as a boy, +Along appointed sands. + +He never misses a degree; +Obedient to her eye, +He comes just so far toward the town, +Just so far goes away. + +Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand, +And mine the distant sea, -- +Obedient to the least command +Thine eyes impose on me. + + + + + +XIV. + +He put the belt around my life, -- +I heard the buckle snap, +And turned away, imperial, +My lifetime folding up +Deliberate, as a duke would do +A kingdom's title-deed, -- +Henceforth a dedicated sort, +A member of the cloud. + +Yet not too far to come at call, +And do the little toils +That make the circuit of the rest, +And deal occasional smiles +To lives that stoop to notice mine +And kindly ask it in, -- +Whose invitation, knew you not +For whom I must decline? + + + + + +XV. + +THE LOST JEWEL. + +I held a jewel in my fingers +And went to sleep. +The day was warm, and winds were prosy; +I said: "'T will keep." + +I woke and chid my honest fingers, -- +The gem was gone; +And now an amethyst remembrance +Is all I own. + + + + + +XVI. + +What if I say I shall not wait? +What if I burst the fleshly gate +And pass, escaped, to thee? +What if I file this mortal off, +See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, -- +And wade in liberty? + +They cannot take us any more, -- +Dungeons may call, and guns implore; +Unmeaning now, to me, +As laughter was an hour ago, +Or laces, or a travelling show, +Or who died yesterday! + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +MOTHER NATURE. + +Nature, the gentlest mother, +Impatient of no child, +The feeblest or the waywardest, -- +Her admonition mild + +In forest and the hill +By traveller is heard, +Restraining rampant squirrel +Or too impetuous bird. + +How fair her conversation, +A summer afternoon, -- +Her household, her assembly; +And when the sun goes down + +Her voice among the aisles +Incites the timid prayer +Of the minutest cricket, +The most unworthy flower. + +When all the children sleep +She turns as long away +As will suffice to light her lamps; +Then, bending from the sky + +With infinite affection +And infiniter care, +Her golden finger on her lip, +Wills silence everywhere. + + + + + +II. + +OUT OF THE MORNING. + +Will there really be a morning? +Is there such a thing as day? +Could I see it from the mountains +If I were as tall as they? + +Has it feet like water-lilies? +Has it feathers like a bird? +Is it brought from famous countries +Of which I have never heard? + +Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! +Oh, some wise man from the skies! +Please to tell a little pilgrim +Where the place called morning lies! + + + + + +III. + +At half-past three a single bird +Unto a silent sky +Propounded but a single term +Of cautious melody. + +At half-past four, experiment +Had subjugated test, +And lo! her silver principle +Supplanted all the rest. + +At half-past seven, element +Nor implement was seen, +And place was where the presence was, +Circumference between. + + + + + +IV. + +DAY'S PARLOR. + +The day came slow, till five o'clock, +Then sprang before the hills +Like hindered rubies, or the light +A sudden musket spills. + +The purple could not keep the east, +The sunrise shook from fold, +Like breadths of topaz, packed a night, +The lady just unrolled. + +The happy winds their timbrels took; +The birds, in docile rows, +Arranged themselves around their prince +(The wind is prince of those). + +The orchard sparkled like a Jew, -- +How mighty 't was, to stay +A guest in this stupendous place, +The parlor of the day! + + + + + +V. + +THE SUN'S WOOING. + +The sun just touched the morning; +The morning, happy thing, +Supposed that he had come to dwell, +And life would be all spring. + +She felt herself supremer, -- +A raised, ethereal thing; +Henceforth for her what holiday! +Meanwhile, her wheeling king + +Trailed slow along the orchards +His haughty, spangled hems, +Leaving a new necessity, -- +The want of diadems! + +The morning fluttered, staggered, +Felt feebly for her crown, -- +Her unanointed forehead +Henceforth her only one. + + + + + + +VI. + +THE ROBIN. + +The robin is the one +That interrupts the morn +With hurried, few, express reports +When March is scarcely on. + +The robin is the one +That overflows the noon +With her cherubic quantity, +An April but begun. + +The robin is the one +That speechless from her nest +Submits that home and certainty +And sanctity are best. + + + + + +VII. + +THE BUTTERFLY'S DAY. + +From cocoon forth a butterfly +As lady from her door +Emerged -- a summer afternoon -- +Repairing everywhere, + +Without design, that I could trace, +Except to stray abroad +On miscellaneous enterprise +The clovers understood. + +Her pretty parasol was seen +Contracting in a field +Where men made hay, then struggling hard +With an opposing cloud, + +Where parties, phantom as herself, +To Nowhere seemed to go +In purposeless circumference, +As 't were a tropic show. + +And notwithstanding bee that worked, +And flower that zealous blew, +This audience of idleness +Disdained them, from the sky, + +Till sundown crept, a steady tide, +And men that made the hay, +And afternoon, and butterfly, +Extinguished in its sea. + + + + + +VIII. + +THE BLUEBIRD. + +Before you thought of spring, +Except as a surmise, +You see, God bless his suddenness, +A fellow in the skies +Of independent hues, +A little weather-worn, +Inspiriting habiliments +Of indigo and brown. + +With specimens of song, +As if for you to choose, +Discretion in the interval, +With gay delays he goes +To some superior tree +Without a single leaf, +And shouts for joy to nobody +But his seraphic self! + + + + + +IX. + +APRIL. + +An altered look about the hills; +A Tyrian light the village fills; +A wider sunrise in the dawn; +A deeper twilight on the lawn; +A print of a vermilion foot; +A purple finger on the slope; +A flippant fly upon the pane; +A spider at his trade again; +An added strut in chanticleer; +A flower expected everywhere; +An axe shrill singing in the woods; +Fern-odors on untravelled roads, -- +All this, and more I cannot tell, +A furtive look you know as well, +And Nicodemus' mystery +Receives its annual reply. + + + + + +X. + +THE SLEEPING FLOWERS. + +"Whose are the little beds," I asked, +"Which in the valleys lie?" +Some shook their heads, and others smiled, +And no one made reply. + +"Perhaps they did not hear," I said; +"I will inquire again. +Whose are the beds, the tiny beds +So thick upon the plain?" + +"'T is daisy in the shortest; +A little farther on, +Nearest the door to wake the first, +Little leontodon. + +"'T is iris, sir, and aster, +Anemone and bell, +Batschia in the blanket red, +And chubby daffodil." + +Meanwhile at many cradles +Her busy foot she plied, +Humming the quaintest lullaby +That ever rocked a child. + +"Hush! Epigea wakens! -- +The crocus stirs her lids, +Rhodora's cheek is crimson, -- +She's dreaming of the woods." + +Then, turning from them, reverent, +"Their bed-time 't is," she said; +"The bumble-bees will wake them +When April woods are red." + + + + + +XI. + +MY ROSE. + +Pigmy seraphs gone astray, +Velvet people from Vevay, +Belles from some lost summer day, +Bees' exclusive coterie. +Paris could not lay the fold +Belted down with emerald; +Venice could not show a cheek +Of a tint so lustrous meek. +Never such an ambuscade +As of brier and leaf displayed +For my little damask maid. +I had rather wear her grace +Than an earl's distinguished face; +I had rather dwell like her +Than be Duke of Exeter +Royalty enough for me +To subdue the bumble-bee! + + + + + +XII. + +THE ORIOLE'S SECRET. + +To hear an oriole sing +May be a common thing, +Or only a divine. + +It is not of the bird +Who sings the same, unheard, +As unto crowd. + +The fashion of the ear +Attireth that it hear +In dun or fair. + +So whether it be rune, +Or whether it be none, +Is of within; + +The "tune is in the tree," +The sceptic showeth me; +"No, sir! In thee!" + + + + + +XIII. + +THE ORIOLE. + +One of the ones that Midas touched, +Who failed to touch us all, +Was that confiding prodigal, +The blissful oriole. + +So drunk, he disavows it +With badinage divine; +So dazzling, we mistake him +For an alighting mine. + +A pleader, a dissembler, +An epicure, a thief, -- +Betimes an oratorio, +An ecstasy in chief; + +The Jesuit of orchards, +He cheats as he enchants +Of an entire attar +For his decamping wants. + +The splendor of a Burmah, +The meteor of birds, +Departing like a pageant +Of ballads and of bards. + +I never thought that Jason sought +For any golden fleece; +But then I am a rural man, +With thoughts that make for peace. + +But if there were a Jason, +Tradition suffer me +Behold his lost emolument +Upon the apple-tree. + + + + + +XIV. + +IN SHADOW. + +I dreaded that first robin so, +But he is mastered now, +And I 'm accustomed to him grown, -- +He hurts a little, though. + +I thought if I could only live +Till that first shout got by, +Not all pianos in the woods +Had power to mangle me. + +I dared not meet the daffodils, +For fear their yellow gown +Would pierce me with a fashion +So foreign to my own. + +I wished the grass would hurry, +So when 't was time to see, +He 'd be too tall, the tallest one +Could stretch to look at me. + +I could not bear the bees should come, +I wished they 'd stay away +In those dim countries where they go: +What word had they for me? + +They 're here, though; not a creature failed, +No blossom stayed away +In gentle deference to me, +The Queen of Calvary. + +Each one salutes me as he goes, +And I my childish plumes +Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment +Of their unthinking drums. + + + + + +XV. + +THE HUMMING-BIRD. + +A route of evanescence +With a revolving wheel; +A resonance of emerald, +A rush of cochineal; +And every blossom on the bush +Adjusts its tumbled head, -- +The mail from Tunis, probably, +An easy morning's ride. + + + + + +XVI. + +SECRETS. + +The skies can't keep their secret! +They tell it to the hills -- +The hills just tell the orchards -- +And they the daffodils! + +A bird, by chance, that goes that way +Soft overheard the whole. +If I should bribe the little bird, +Who knows but she would tell? + +I think I won't, however, +It's finer not to know; +If summer were an axiom, +What sorcery had snow? + +So keep your secret, Father! +I would not, if I could, +Know what the sapphire fellows do, +In your new-fashioned world! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who robbed the woods, +The trusting woods? +The unsuspecting trees +Brought out their burrs and mosses +His fantasy to please. +He scanned their trinkets, curious, +He grasped, he bore away. +What will the solemn hemlock, +What will the fir-tree say? + + + + + +XVIII. + +TWO VOYAGERS. + +Two butterflies went out at noon +And waltzed above a stream, +Then stepped straight through the firmament +And rested on a beam; + +And then together bore away +Upon a shining sea, -- +Though never yet, in any port, +Their coming mentioned be. + +If spoken by the distant bird, +If met in ether sea +By frigate or by merchantman, +Report was not to me. + + + + + +XIX. + +BY THE SEA. + +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 made as he would eat me up +As wholly as a dew +Upon a dandelion's sleeve -- +And then I started too. + +And he -- he followed close behind; +I felt his silver heel +Upon my ankle, -- then my shoes +Would overflow with pearl. + +Until we met the solid town, +No man he seemed to know; +And bowing with a mighty look +At me, the sea withdrew. + + + + + +XX. + +OLD-FASHIONED. + +Arcturus is his other name, -- +I'd rather call him star! +It's so unkind of science +To go and interfere! + +I pull a flower from the woods, -- +A monster with a glass +Computes the stamens in a breath, +And has her in a class. + +Whereas I took the butterfly +Aforetime in my hat, +He sits erect in cabinets, +The clover-bells forgot. + +What once was heaven, is zenith now. +Where I proposed to go +When time's brief masquerade was done, +Is mapped, and charted too! + +What if the poles should frisk about +And stand upon their heads! +I hope I 'm ready for the worst, +Whatever prank betides! + +Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed! +I hope the children there +Won't be new-fashioned when I come, +And laugh at me, and stare! + +I hope the father in the skies +Will lift his little girl, -- +Old-fashioned, naughty, everything, -- +Over the stile of pearl! + + + + + +XXI. + +A TEMPEST. + +An awful tempest mashed the air, +The clouds were gaunt and few; +A black, as of a spectre's cloak, +Hid heaven and earth from view. + +The creatures chuckled on the roofs +And whistled in the air, +And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth. +And swung their frenzied hair. + +The morning lit, the birds arose; +The monster's faded eyes +Turned slowly to his native coast, +And peace was Paradise! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE SEA. + +An everywhere of silver, +With ropes of sand +To keep it from effacing +The track called land. + + + + + +XXIII. + +IN THE GARDEN. + +A bird came down the walk: +He did not know I saw; +He bit an angle-worm in halves +And ate the fellow, raw. + +And then he drank a dew +From a convenient grass, +And then hopped sidewise to the wall +To let a beetle pass. + +He glanced with rapid eyes +That hurried all abroad, -- +They looked like frightened beads, I thought; +He stirred his velvet head + +Like one in danger; cautious, +I offered him a crumb, +And he unrolled his feathers +And rowed him softer home + +Than oars divide the ocean, +Too silver for a seam, +Or butterflies, off banks of noon, +Leap, splashless, as they swim. + + + + + +XXIV. + +THE SNAKE. + +A narrow fellow in the grass +Occasionally rides; +You may have met him, -- did you not, +His notice sudden is. + +The grass divides as with a comb, +A spotted shaft is seen; +And then it closes at your feet +And opens further on. + +He likes a boggy acre, +A floor too cool for corn. +Yet when a child, and barefoot, +I more than once, at morn, + +Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash +Unbraiding in the sun, -- +When, stooping to secure it, +It wrinkled, and was gone. + +Several of nature's people +I know, and they know me; +I feel for them a transport +Of cordiality; + +But never met this fellow, +Attended or alone, +Without a tighter breathing, +And zero at the bone. + + + + + +XXV. + +THE MUSHROOM. + +The mushroom is the elf of plants, +At evening it is not; +At morning in a truffled hut +It stops upon a spot + +As if it tarried always; +And yet its whole career +Is shorter than a snake's delay, +And fleeter than a tare. + +'T is vegetation's juggler, +The germ of alibi; +Doth like a bubble antedate, +And like a bubble hie. + +I feel as if the grass were pleased +To have it intermit; +The surreptitious scion +Of summer's circumspect. + +Had nature any outcast face, +Could she a son contemn, +Had nature an Iscariot, +That mushroom, -- it is him. + + + + + +XXVI. + +THE STORM. + +There came a wind like a bugle; +It quivered through the grass, +And a green chill upon the heat +So ominous did pass +We barred the windows and the doors +As from an emerald ghost; +The doom's electric moccason +That very instant passed. +On a strange mob of panting trees, +And fences fled away, +And rivers where the houses ran +The living looked that day. +The bell within the steeple wild +The flying tidings whirled. +How much can come +And much can go, +And yet abide the world! + + + + + +XXVII. + +THE SPIDER. + +A spider sewed at night +Without a light +Upon an arc of white. +If ruff it was of dame +Or shroud of gnome, +Himself, himself inform. +Of immortality +His strategy +Was physiognomy. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I know a place where summer strives +With such a practised frost, +She each year leads her daisies back, +Recording briefly, "Lost." + +But when the south wind stirs the pools +And struggles in the lanes, +Her heart misgives her for her vow, +And she pours soft refrains + +Into the lap of adamant, +And spices, and the dew, +That stiffens quietly to quartz, +Upon her amber shoe. + + + + + +XXIX. + +The one that could repeat the summer day +Were greater than itself, though he +Minutest of mankind might be. +And who could reproduce the sun, +At period of going down -- +The lingering and the stain, I mean -- +When Orient has been outgrown, +And Occident becomes unknown, +His name remain. + + + + + +XXX. + +THE WIND'S VISIT. + +The wind tapped like a tired man, +And like a host, "Come in," +I boldly answered; entered then +My residence within + +A rapid, footless guest, +To offer whom a chair +Were as impossible as hand +A sofa to the air. + +No bone had he to bind him, +His speech was like the push +Of numerous humming-birds at once +From a superior bush. + +His countenance a billow, +His fingers, if he pass, +Let go a music, as of tunes +Blown tremulous in glass. + +He visited, still flitting; +Then, like a timid man, +Again he tapped -- 't was flurriedly -- +And I became alone. + + + + + +XXXI. + +Nature rarer uses yellow + Than another hue; +Saves she all of that for sunsets, -- + Prodigal of blue, + +Spending scarlet like a woman, + Yellow she affords +Only scantly and selectly, + Like a lover's words. + + + + + +XXXII. + +GOSSIP. + +The leaves, like women, interchange + Sagacious confidence; +Somewhat of nods, and somewhat of + Portentous inference, + +The parties in both cases + Enjoining secrecy, -- +Inviolable compact + To notoriety. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +SIMPLICITY. + +How happy is the little stone +That rambles in the road alone, +And doesn't care about careers, +And exigencies never fears; +Whose coat of elemental brown +A passing universe put on; +And independent as the sun, +Associates or glows alone, +Fulfilling absolute decree +In casual simplicity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +STORM. + +It sounded as if the streets were running, +And then the streets stood still. +Eclipse was all we could see at the window, +And awe was all we could feel. + +By and by the boldest stole out of his covert, +To see if time was there. +Nature was in her beryl apron, +Mixing fresher air. + + + + + +XXXV. + +THE RAT. + +The rat is the concisest tenant. +He pays no rent, -- +Repudiates the obligation, +On schemes intent. + +Balking our wit +To sound or circumvent, +Hate cannot harm +A foe so reticent. + +Neither decree +Prohibits him, +Lawful as +Equilibrium. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +Frequently the woods are pink, +Frequently are brown; +Frequently the hills undress +Behind my native town. + +Oft a head is crested +I was wont to see, +And as oft a cranny +Where it used to be. + +And the earth, they tell me, +On its axis turned, -- +Wonderful rotation +By but twelve performed! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +A THUNDER-STORM. + +The wind begun to rock the grass +With threatening tunes and low, -- +He flung a menace at the earth, +A menace at the sky. + +The leaves unhooked themselves from trees +And started all abroad; +The dust did scoop itself like hands +And throw away the road. + +The wagons quickened on the streets, +The thunder hurried slow; +The lightning showed a yellow beak, +And then a livid claw. + +The birds put up the bars to nests, +The cattle fled to barns; +There came one drop of giant rain, +And then, as if the hands + +That held the dams had parted hold, +The waters wrecked the sky, +But overlooked my father's house, +Just quartering a tree. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +South winds jostle them, +Bumblebees come, +Hover, hesitate, +Drink, and are gone. + +Butterflies pause +On their passage Cashmere; +I, softly plucking, +Present them here! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SUNSET. + +Where ships of purple gently toss +On seas of daffodil, +Fantastic sailors mingle, +And then -- the wharf is still. + + + + + +XL. + +She sweeps with many-colored brooms, +And leaves the shreds behind; +Oh, housewife in the evening west, +Come back, and dust the pond! + +You dropped a purple ravelling in, +You dropped an amber thread; +And now you 've littered all the East +With duds of emerald! + +And still she plies her spotted brooms, +And still the aprons fly, +Till brooms fade softly into stars -- +And then I come away. + + + + + +XLI. + +Like mighty footlights burned the red +At bases of the trees, -- +The far theatricals of day +Exhibiting to these. + +'T was universe that did applaud +While, chiefest of the crowd, +Enabled by his royal dress, +Myself distinguished God. + + + + + +XLII. + +PROBLEMS. + +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 breadths 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 spheres + By withes of supple blue? +Whose fingers string the stalactite, +Who counts the wampum of the night, + To see that none is due? + +Who built this little Alban house +And shut the windows down so close + My spirit cannot see? +Who 'll let me out some gala day, +With implements to fly away, + Passing pomposity? + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE JUGGLER OF DAY. + +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! + + + + +XLIV. + +MY CRICKET. + +Farther in summer than the birds, +Pathetic from the grass, +A minor nation celebrates +Its unobtrusive mass. + +No ordinance is seen, +So gradual the grace, +A pensive custom it becomes, +Enlarging loneliness. + +Antiquest felt at noon +When August, burning low, +Calls forth this spectral canticle, +Repose to typify. + +Remit as yet no grace, +No furrow on the glow, +Yet a druidic difference +Enhances nature now. + + + + +XLV. + +As imperceptibly as grief +The summer lapsed away, -- +Too imperceptible, at last, +To seem like perfidy. + +A quietness distilled, +As twilight long begun, +Or Nature, spending with herself +Sequestered afternoon. + +The dusk drew earlier in, +The morning foreign shone, -- +A courteous, yet harrowing grace, +As guest who would be gone. + +And thus, without a wing, +Or service of a keel, +Our summer made her light escape +Into the beautiful. + + + + + +XLVI. + +It can't be summer, -- that got through; +It 's early yet for spring; +There 's that long town of white to cross +Before the blackbirds sing. + +It can't be dying, -- it's too rouge, -- +The dead shall go in white. +So sunset shuts my question down +With clasps of chrysolite. + + + + + +XLVII. + +SUMMER'S OBSEQUIES. + +The gentian weaves her fringes, +The maple's loom is red. +My departing blossoms +Obviate parade. + +A brief, but patient illness, +An hour to prepare; +And one, below this morning, +Is where the angels are. + +It was a short procession, -- +The bobolink was there, +An aged bee addressed us, +And then we knelt in prayer. + +We trust that she was willing, -- +We ask that we may be. +Summer, sister, seraph, +Let us go with thee! + +In the name of the bee +And of the butterfly +And of the breeze, amen! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +FRINGED GENTIAN. + +God made a little gentian; +It tried to be a rose +And failed, and all the summer laughed. +But just before the snows +There came a purple creature +That ravished all the hill; +And summer hid her forehead, +And mockery was still. +The frosts were her condition; +The Tyrian would not come +Until the North evoked it. +"Creator! shall I bloom?" + + + + + +XLIX. + +NOVEMBER. + +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 eyes, -- +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, O Lord, a sunny mind, +Thy windy will to bear! + + + + + +L. + +THE SNOW. + +It sifts from leaden sieves, +It powders all the wood, +It fills with alabaster wool +The wrinkles of the road. + +It makes an even face +Of mountain and of plain, -- +Unbroken forehead from the east +Unto the east again. + +It reaches to the fence, +It wraps it, rail by rail, +Till it is lost in fleeces; +It flings a crystal veil + +On stump and stack and stem, -- +The summer's empty room, +Acres of seams where harvests were, +Recordless, but for them. + +It ruffles wrists of posts, +As ankles of a queen, -- +Then stills its artisans like ghosts, +Denying they have been. + + + + + +LI. + +THE BLUE JAY. + +No brigadier throughout the year +So civic as the jay. +A neighbor and a warrior too, +With shrill felicity + +Pursuing winds that censure us +A February day, +The brother of the universe +Was never blown away. + +The snow and he are intimate; +I 've often seen them play +When heaven looked upon us all +With such severity, + +I felt apology were due +To an insulted sky, +Whose pompous frown was nutriment +To their temerity. + +The pillow of this daring head +Is pungent evergreens; +His larder -- terse and militant -- +Unknown, refreshing things; + +His character a tonic, +His future a dispute; +Unfair an immortality +That leaves this neighbor out. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + + +I. + +Let down the bars, O Death! +The tired flocks come in +Whose bleating ceases to repeat, +Whose wandering is done. + +Thine is the stillest night, +Thine the securest fold; +Too near thou art for seeking thee, +Too tender to be told. + + + + + +II. + +Going to heaven! +I don't know when, +Pray do not ask me how, -- +Indeed, I 'm too astonished +To think of answering you! +Going to heaven! -- +How dim it sounds! +And yet it will be done +As sure as flocks go home at night +Unto the shepherd's arm! + +Perhaps you 're going too! +Who knows? +If you should get there first, +Save just a little place for me +Close to the two I lost! + +The smallest "robe" will fit me, +And just a bit of "crown;" +For you know we do not mind our dress +When we are going home. + +I 'm glad I don't believe it, +For it would stop my breath, +And I 'd like to look a little more +At such a curious earth! +I am glad they did believe it +Whom I have never found +Since the mighty autumn afternoon +I left them in the ground. + + + + + +III. + +At least to pray is left, is left. +O Jesus! in the air +I know not which thy chamber is, -- +I 'm knocking everywhere. + +Thou stirrest earthquake in the South, +And maelstrom in the sea; +Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, +Hast thou no arm for me? + + + + + +IV. + +EPITAPH. + +Step lightly on this narrow spot! +The broadest land that grows +Is not so ample as the breast +These emerald seams enclose. + +Step lofty; for this name is told +As far as cannon dwell, +Or flag subsist, or fame export +Her deathless syllable. + + + + + +V. + +Morns like these we parted; +Noons like these she rose, +Fluttering first, then firmer, +To her fair repose. + +Never did she lisp it, +And 't was not for me; +She was mute from transport, +I, from agony! + +Till the evening, nearing, +One the shutters drew -- +Quick! a sharper rustling! +And this linnet flew! + + + + + +VI. + +A death-blow is a life-blow to some +Who, till they died, did not alive become; +Who, had they lived, had died, but when +They died, vitality begun. + + + + + +VII. + +I read my sentence steadily, +Reviewed it with my eyes, +To see that I made no mistake +In its extremest clause, -- + +The date, and manner of the shame; +And then the pious form +That "God have mercy" on the soul +The jury voted him. + +I made my soul familiar +With her extremity, +That at the last it should not be +A novel agony, + +But she and Death, acquainted, +Meet tranquilly as friends, +Salute and pass without a hint -- +And there the matter ends. + + + + + +VIII. + +I have not told my garden yet, +Lest that should conquer me; +I have not quite the strength now +To break it to the bee. + +I will not name it in the street, +For shops would stare, that I, +So shy, so very ignorant, +Should have the face to die. + +The hillsides must not know it, +Where I have rambled so, +Nor tell the loving forests +The day that I shall go, + +Nor lisp it at the table, +Nor heedless by the way +Hint that within the riddle +One will walk to-day! + + + + + +IX. + +THE BATTLE-FIELD. + +They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, + Like petals from a rose, +When suddenly across the June + A wind with fingers goes. + +They perished in the seamless grass, -- + No eye could find the place; +But God on his repealless list + Can summon every face. + + + + + +X. + +The only ghost I ever saw +Was dressed in mechlin, -- so; +He wore no sandal on his foot, +And stepped like flakes of snow. +His gait was soundless, like the bird, +But rapid, like the roe; +His fashions quaint, mosaic, +Or, haply, mistletoe. + +His conversation seldom, +His laughter like the breeze +That dies away in dimples +Among the pensive trees. +Our interview was transient,-- +Of me, himself was shy; +And God forbid I look behind +Since that appalling day! + + + + + +XI. + +Some, too fragile for winter winds, +The thoughtful grave encloses, -- +Tenderly tucking them in from frost +Before their feet are cold. + +Never the treasures in her nest +The cautious grave exposes, +Building where schoolboy dare not look +And sportsman is not bold. + +This covert have all the children +Early aged, and often cold, -- +Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; +Lambs for whom time had not a fold. + + + + + +XII. + +As by the dead we love to sit, +Become so wondrous dear, +As for the lost we grapple, +Though all the rest are here, -- + +In broken mathematics +We estimate our prize, +Vast, in its fading ratio, +To our penurious eyes! + + + + + +XIII. + +MEMORIALS. + +Death sets a thing significant +The eye had hurried by, +Except a perished creature +Entreat us tenderly + +To ponder little workmanships +In crayon or in wool, +With "This was last her fingers did," +Industrious until + +The thimble weighed too heavy, +The stitches stopped themselves, +And then 't was put among the dust +Upon the closet shelves. + +A book I have, a friend gave, +Whose pencil, here and there, +Had notched the place that pleased him, -- +At rest his fingers are. + +Now, when I read, I read not, +For interrupting tears +Obliterate the etchings +Too costly for repairs. + + + + + +XIV. + +I went to heaven, -- +'T was a small town, +Lit with a ruby, +Lathed with down. +Stiller than the fields +At the full dew, +Beautiful as pictures +No man drew. +People like the moth, +Of mechlin, frames, +Duties of gossamer, +And eider names. +Almost contented +I could be +'Mong such unique +Society. + + + + + +XV. + +Their height in heaven comforts not, +Their glory nought to me; +'T was best imperfect, as it was; +I 'm finite, I can't see. + +The house of supposition, +The glimmering frontier +That skirts the acres of perhaps, +To me shows insecure. + +The wealth I had contented me; +If 't was a meaner size, +Then I had counted it until +It pleased my narrow eyes + +Better than larger values, +However true their show; +This timid life of evidence +Keeps pleading, "I don't know." + + + + + +XVI. + +There is a shame of nobleness +Confronting sudden pelf, -- +A finer shame of ecstasy +Convicted of itself. + +A best disgrace a brave man feels, +Acknowledged of the brave, -- +One more "Ye Blessed" to be told; +But this involves the grave. + + + + + +XVII. + +TRIUMPH. + +Triumph may be of several kinds. +There 's triumph in the room +When that old imperator, Death, +By faith is overcome. + +There 's triumph of the finer mind +When truth, affronted long, +Advances calm to her supreme, +Her God her only throng. + +A triumph when temptation's bribe +Is slowly handed back, +One eye upon the heaven renounced +And one upon the rack. + +Severer triumph, by himself +Experienced, who can pass +Acquitted from that naked bar, +Jehovah's countenance! + + + + + +XVIII. + +Pompless no life can pass away; + The lowliest career +To the same pageant wends its way + As that exalted here. +How cordial is the mystery! + The hospitable pall +A "this way" beckons spaciously, -- + A miracle for all! + + + + + +XIX. + +I noticed people disappeared, +When but a little child, -- +Supposed they visited remote, +Or settled regions wild. + +Now know I they both visited +And settled regions wild, +But did because they died, -- a fact +Withheld the little child! + + + + + +XX. + +FOLLOWING. + +I had no cause to be awake, +My best was gone to sleep, +And morn a new politeness took, +And failed to wake them up, + +But called the others clear, +And passed their curtains by. +Sweet morning, when I over-sleep, +Knock, recollect, for me! + +I looked at sunrise once, +And then I looked at them, +And wishfulness in me arose +For circumstance the same. + +'T was such an ample peace, +It could not hold a sigh, -- +'T was Sabbath with the bells divorced, +'T was sunset all the day. + +So choosing but a gown +And taking but a prayer, +The only raiment I should need, +I struggled, and was there. + + + + + +XXI. + +If anybody's friend be dead, +It 's sharpest of the theme +The thinking how they walked alive, +At such and such a time. + +Their costume, of a Sunday, +Some manner of the hair, -- +A prank nobody knew but them, +Lost, in the sepulchre. + +How warm they were on such a day: +You almost feel the date, +So short way off it seems; and now, +They 're centuries from that. + +How pleased they were at what you said; +You try to touch the smile, +And dip your fingers in the frost: +When was it, can you tell, + +You asked the company to tea, +Acquaintance, just a few, +And chatted close with this grand thing +That don't remember you? + +Past bows and invitations, +Past interview, and vow, +Past what ourselves can estimate, -- +That makes the quick of woe! + + + + + +XXII. + +THE JOURNEY. + +Our journey had advanced; +Our feet were almost come +To that odd fork in Being's road, +Eternity by term. + +Our pace took sudden awe, +Our feet reluctant led. +Before were cities, but between, +The forest of the dead. + +Retreat was out of hope, -- +Behind, a sealed route, +Eternity's white flag before, +And God at every gate. + + + + + +XXIII. + +A COUNTRY BURIAL. + +Ample make this bed. +Make this bed with awe; +In it wait till judgment break +Excellent and fair. + +Be its mattress straight, +Be its pillow round; +Let no sunrise' yellow noise +Interrupt this ground. + + + + + +XXIV. + +GOING. + +On such a night, or such a night, +Would anybody care +If such a little figure +Slipped quiet from its chair, + +So quiet, oh, how quiet! +That nobody might know +But that the little figure +Rocked softer, to and fro? + +On such a dawn, or such a dawn, +Would anybody sigh +That such a little figure +Too sound asleep did lie + +For chanticleer to wake it, -- +Or stirring house below, +Or giddy bird in orchard, +Or early task to do? + +There was a little figure plump +For every little knoll, +Busy needles, and spools of thread, +And trudging feet from school. + +Playmates, and holidays, and nuts, +And visions vast and small. +Strange that the feet so precious charged +Should reach so small a goal! + + + + + +XXV. + +Essential oils are wrung: +The attar from the rose +Is not expressed by suns alone, +It is the gift of screws. + +The general rose decays; +But this, in lady's drawer, +Makes summer when the lady lies +In ceaseless rosemary. + + + + +XXVI. + +I lived on dread; to those who know +The stimulus there is +In danger, other impetus +Is numb and vital-less. + +As 't were a spur upon the soul, +A fear will urge it where +To go without the spectre's aid +Were challenging despair. + + + + + +XXVII. + +If I should die, +And you should live, +And time should gurgle on, +And morn should beam, +And noon should burn, +As it has usual done; +If birds should build as early, +And bees as bustling go, -- +One might depart at option +From enterprise below! +'T is sweet to know that stocks will stand +When we with daisies lie, +That commerce will continue, +And trades as briskly fly. +It makes the parting tranquil +And keeps the soul serene, +That gentlemen so sprightly +Conduct the pleasing scene! + + + + + +XXVIII. + +AT LENGTH. + +Her final summer was it, +And yet we guessed it not; +If tenderer industriousness +Pervaded her, we thought + +A further force of life +Developed from within, -- +When Death lit all the shortness up, +And made the hurry plain. + +We wondered at our blindness, -- +When nothing was to see +But her Carrara guide-post, -- +At our stupidity, + +When, duller than our dullness, +The busy darling lay, +So busy was she, finishing, +So leisurely were we! + + + + + +XXIX. + +GHOSTS. + +One need not be a chamber to be haunted, +One need not be a house; +The brain has corridors surpassing +Material place. + +Far safer, of a midnight meeting +External ghost, +Than an interior confronting +That whiter host. + +Far safer through an Abbey gallop, +The stones achase, +Than, moonless, one's own self encounter +In lonesome place. + +Ourself, behind ourself concealed, +Should startle most; +Assassin, hid in our apartment, +Be horror's least. + +The prudent carries a revolver, +He bolts the door, +O'erlooking a superior spectre +More near. + + + + + +XXX. + +VANISHED. + +She died, -- this was the way she died; +And when her breath was done, +Took up her simple wardrobe +And started for the sun. + +Her little figure at the gate +The angels must have spied, +Since I could never find her +Upon the mortal side. + + + + + +XXXI. + +PRECEDENCE. + +Wait till the majesty of Death +Invests so mean a brow! +Almost a powdered footman +Might dare to touch it now! + +Wait till in everlasting robes +This democrat is dressed, +Then prate about "preferment" +And "station" and the rest! + +Around this quiet courtier +Obsequious angels wait! +Full royal is his retinue, +Full purple is his state! + +A lord might dare to lift the hat +To such a modest clay, +Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords" +Receives unblushingly! + + + + + +XXXII. + +GONE. + +Went up a year this evening! +I recollect it well! +Amid no bells nor bravos +The bystanders will tell! +Cheerful, as to the village, +Tranquil, as to repose, +Chastened, as to the chapel, +This humble tourist rose. +Did not talk of returning, +Alluded to no time +When, were the gales propitious, +We might look for him; +Was grateful for the roses +In life's diverse bouquet, +Talked softly of new species +To pick another day. + +Beguiling thus the wonder, +The wondrous nearer drew; +Hands bustled at the moorings -- +The crowd respectful grew. +Ascended from our vision +To countenances new! +A difference, a daisy, +Is all the rest I knew! + + + + + +XXXIII. + +REQUIEM. + +Taken from men this morning, +Carried by men to-day, +Met by the gods with banners +Who marshalled her away. + +One little maid from playmates, +One little mind from school, -- +There must be guests in Eden; +All the rooms are full. + +Far as the east from even, +Dim as the border star, -- +Courtiers quaint, in kingdoms, +Our departed are. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +What inn is this +Where for the night +Peculiar traveller comes? +Who is the landlord? +Where the maids? +Behold, what curious rooms! +No ruddy fires on the hearth, +No brimming tankards flow. +Necromancer, landlord, +Who are these below? + + + + + +XXXV. + +It was not death, for I stood up, +And all the dead lie down; +It was not night, for all the bells +Put out their tongues, for noon. + +It was not frost, for on my flesh +I felt siroccos crawl, -- +Nor fire, for just my marble feet +Could keep a chancel cool. + +And yet it tasted like them all; +The figures I have seen +Set orderly, for burial, +Reminded me of mine, + +As if my life were shaven +And fitted to a frame, +And could not breathe without a key; +And 't was like midnight, some, + +When everything that ticked has stopped, +And space stares, all around, +Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, +Repeal the beating ground. + +But most like chaos, -- stopless, cool, -- +Without a chance or spar, +Or even a report of land +To justify despair. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +TILL THE END. + +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 'd come, +It listening, listening, went to sleep +Telling my tardy name, -- + +My heart would wish it broke before, +Since breaking then, since breaking then, +Were useless as next morning's sun, +Where midnight frosts had lain! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +VOID. + +Great streets of silence led away +To neighborhoods of pause; +Here was no notice, no dissent, +No universe, no laws. + +By clocks 't was morning, and for night +The bells at distance called; +But epoch had no basis here, +For period exhaled. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +A throe upon the features +A hurry in the breath, +An ecstasy of parting +Denominated "Death," -- + +An anguish at the mention, +Which, when to patience grown, +I 've known permission given +To rejoin its own. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +SAVED! + +Of tribulation these are they +Denoted by the white; +The spangled gowns, a lesser rank +Of victors designate. + +All these did conquer; but the ones +Who overcame most times +Wear nothing commoner than snow, +No ornament but palms. + +Surrender is a sort unknown +On this superior soil; +Defeat, an outgrown anguish, +Remembered as the mile + +Our panting ankle barely gained +When night devoured the road; +But we stood whispering in the house, +And all we said was "Saved"! + + + + + +XL. + +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 +Before my simple bosom broke, -- +And why not this, if they? + +And so, until delirious borne +I con that thing, -- "forgiven," -- +Till with long fright and longer trust +I drop my heart, unshriven! + + + + + +XLI. + +THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. + +After a hundred years +Nobody knows the place, -- +Agony, that enacted there, +Motionless as peace. + +Weeds triumphant ranged, +Strangers strolled and spelled +At the lone orthography +Of the elder dead. + +Winds of summer fields +Recollect the way, -- +Instinct picking up the key +Dropped by memory. + + + + + +XLII. + +Lay this laurel on the one +Too intrinsic for renown. +Laurel! veil your deathless tree, -- +Him you chasten, that is he! + + + + + + + + +POEMS + +by EMILY DICKINSON + +Third Series + + + + +Edited by + +MABEL LOOMIS TODD + + + + It's all I have to bring to-day, + This, and my heart beside, + This, and my heart, and all the fields, + And all the meadows wide. + Be sure you count, should I forget, -- + Some one the sum could tell, -- + This, and my heart, and all the bees + Which in the clover dwell. + + + +PREFACE. + +The intellectual activity of Emily Dickinson was so great that +a large and characteristic choice is still possible among her +literary material, and this third volume of her verses is put +forth in response to the repeated wish of the admirers of her +peculiar genius. Much of Emily Dickinson's prose was rhythmic, +--even rhymed, though frequently not set apart in lines. + +Also many verses, written as such, were sent to friends in +letters; these were published in 1894, in the volumes of her +_Letters_. It has not been necessary, however, to include them in +this Series, and all have been omitted, except three or four +exceptionally strong ones, as "A Book," and "With Flowers." + +There is internal evidence that many of the poems were simply +spontaneous flashes of insight, apparently unrelated to outward +circumstance. Others, however, had an obvious personal origin; +for example, the verses "I had a Guinea golden," which seem to +have been sent to some friend travelling in Europe, as a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. The surroundings in +which any of Emily Dickinson's verses are known to have been +written usually serve to explain them clearly; but in general the +present volume is full of thoughts needing no interpretation to +those who apprehend this scintillating spirit. + + M. L. T. + +AMHERST, _October_, 1896. + + + + +I. LIFE. + + +I. + +REAL RICHES. + +'T is little I could care for pearls + Who own the ample sea; +Or brooches, when the Emperor + With rubies pelteth me; + +Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines; + Or diamonds, when I see +A diadem to fit a dome + Continual crowning me. + + + + + +II. + +SUPERIORITY TO FATE. + +Superiority to fate + Is difficult to learn. +'T is not conferred by any, + But possible to earn + +A pittance at a time, + Until, to her surprise, +The soul with strict economy + Subsists till Paradise. + + + + + +III. + +HOPE. + +Hope is a subtle glutton; + He feeds upon the fair; +And yet, inspected closely, + What abstinence is there! + +His is the halcyon table + That never seats but one, +And whatsoever is consumed + The same amounts remain. + + + + + +IV. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +I. + +Forbidden fruit a flavor has + That lawful orchards mocks; +How luscious lies the pea within + The pod that Duty locks! + + + + + +V. + +FORBIDDEN FRUIT. + +II. + +Heaven is what I cannot reach! + The apple on the tree, +Provided it do hopeless hang, + That 'heaven' is, to me. + +The color on the cruising cloud, + The interdicted ground +Behind the hill, the house behind, -- + There Paradise is found! + + + + + +VI. + +A WORD. + +A word is dead +When it is said, + Some say. +I say it just +Begins to live + That day. + + + + + +VII. + +To venerate the simple days + Which lead the seasons by, +Needs but to remember + That from you or me +They may take the trifle + Termed mortality! + +To invest existence with a stately air, +Needs but to remember + That the acorn there +Is the egg of forests + For the upper air! + + + + + +VIII. + +LIFE'S TRADES. + +It's such a little thing to weep, + So short a thing to sigh; +And yet by trades the size of these + We men and women die! + + + + + +IX. + +Drowning is not so pitiful + As the attempt to rise. +Three times, 't is 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. + + + + + +X. + +How still the bells in steeples stand, + Till, swollen with the sky, +They leap upon their silver feet + In frantic melody! + + + + + +XI. + +If the foolish call them 'flowers,' + Need the wiser tell? +If the savans 'classify' them, + It is just as well! + +Those who read the Revelations + Must not criticise +Those who read the same edition + With beclouded eyes! + +Could we stand with that old Moses + Canaan denied, -- +Scan, like him, the stately landscape + On the other side, -- + +Doubtless we should deem superfluous + Many sciences +Not pursued by learned angels + In scholastic skies! + +Low amid that glad _Belles lettres_ + Grant that we may stand, +Stars, amid profound Galaxies, + At that grand 'Right hand'! + + + + + +XII. + +A SYLLABLE. + +Could mortal lip divine + The undeveloped freight +Of a delivered syllable, + 'T would crumble with the weight. + + + + + +XIII. + +PARTING. + +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. + + + + + +XIV. + +ASPIRATION. + +We never know how high we are + Till we are called to rise; +And then, if we are true to plan, + Our statures touch the skies. + +The heroism we recite + Would be a daily thing, +Did not ourselves the cubits warp + For fear to be a king. + + + + + +XV. + +THE INEVITABLE. + +While I was fearing it, it came, + But came with less of fear, +Because that fearing it so long + Had almost made it dear. +There is a fitting a dismay, + A fitting a despair. +'Tis harder knowing it is due, + Than knowing it is here. +The trying on the utmost, + The morning it is new, +Is terribler than wearing it + A whole existence through. + + + + + +XVI. + +A BOOK. + +There is no frigate like a book + To take us lands away, +Nor any coursers like a page + Of prancing poetry. +This traverse may the poorest take + Without oppress of toll; +How frugal is the chariot + That bears a human soul! + + + + + +XVII. + +Who has not found the heaven below + Will fail of it above. +God's residence is next to mine, + His furniture is love. + + + + + +XVIII. + +A PORTRAIT. + +A face devoid of love or grace, + A hateful, hard, successful face, +A face with which a stone + Would feel as thoroughly at ease +As were they old acquaintances, -- + First time together thrown. + + + + + +XIX. + +I HAD A GUINEA GOLDEN. + +I had a guinea golden; + I lost it in the sand, +And though the sum was simple, + And pounds were in the land, +Still had it such a value + Unto my frugal eye, +That when I could not find it + I sat me down to sigh. + +I had a crimson robin + Who sang full many a day, +But when the woods were painted + He, too, did fly away. +Time brought me other robins, -- + Their ballads were the same, -- +Still for my missing troubadour + I kept the 'house at hame.' + +I had a star in heaven; + One Pleiad was its name, +And when I was not heeding + It wandered from the same. +And though the skies are crowded, + And all the night ashine, +I do not care about it, + Since none of them are mine. + +My story has a moral: + I have a missing friend, -- +Pleiad its name, and robin, + And guinea in the sand, -- +And when this mournful ditty, + Accompanied with tear, +Shall meet the eye of traitor + In country far from here, +Grant that repentance solemn + May seize upon his mind, +And he no consolation + Beneath the sun may find. + +NOTE. -- This poem may have had, like many others, a +personal origin. It is more than probable that it was +sent to some friend travelling in Europe, a dainty +reminder of letter-writing delinquencies. + + + + + +XX. + +SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + +From all the jails the boys and girls + Ecstatically leap, -- +Beloved, only afternoon + That prison doesn't keep. + +They storm the earth and stun the air, + A mob of solid bliss. +Alas! that frowns could lie in wait + For such a foe as this! + + + + + + +XXI. + +Few get enough, -- enough is one; + To that ethereal throng +Have not each one of us the right + To stealthily belong? + + + + + +XXII. + +Upon the gallows hung a wretch, + Too sullied for the hell +To which the law entitled him. + As nature's curtain fell +The one who bore him tottered in, + For this was woman's son. +''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped; + Oh, what a livid boon! + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE LOST THOUGHT. + +I felt a clearing in my mind + As if my brain had split; +I tried to match it, seam by seam, + But could not make them fit. + +The thought behind I strove to join + Unto the thought before, +But sequence ravelled out of reach + Like balls upon a floor. + + + + + +XXIV. + +RETICENCE. + +The reticent volcano keeps + His never slumbering plan; +Confided are his projects pink + To no precarious man. + +If nature will not tell the tale + Jehovah told to her, +Can human nature not survive + Without a listener? + +Admonished by her buckled lips + Let every babbler be. +The only secret people keep + Is Immortality. + + + + + +XXV. + +WITH FLOWERS. + +If recollecting were forgetting, + Then I remember not; +And if forgetting, recollecting, + How near I had forgot! +And if to miss were merry, + And if to mourn were gay, +How very blithe the fingers + That gathered these to-day! + + + + + +XXVI. + +The farthest thunder that I heard + Was nearer than the sky, +And rumbles still, though torrid noons + Have lain their missiles by. +The lightning that preceded it + Struck no one but myself, +But I would not exchange the bolt + For all the rest of life. +Indebtedness to oxygen + The chemist may repay, +But not the obligation + To electricity. +It founds the homes and decks the days, + And every clamor bright +Is but the gleam concomitant + Of that waylaying light. +The thought is quiet as a flake, -- + A crash without a sound; +How life's reverberation + Its explanation found! + + + + + +XXVII. + +On the bleakness of my lot + Bloom I strove to raise. +Late, my acre of a rock + Yielded grape and maize. + +Soil of flint if steadfast tilled + Will reward the hand; +Seed of palm by Lybian sun + Fructified in sand. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +CONTRAST. + +A door just opened on a street -- + I, lost, was passing by -- +An instant's width of warmth disclosed, + And wealth, and company. + +The door as sudden shut, and I, + I, lost, was passing by, -- +Lost doubly, but by contrast most, + Enlightening misery. + + + + + + +XXIX. + +FRIENDS. + +Are friends delight or pain? + Could bounty but remain +Riches were good. + +But if they only stay +Bolder to fly away, + Riches are sad. + + + + + + +XXX. + +FIRE. + +Ashes denote that fire was; + Respect the grayest pile +For the departed creature's sake + That hovered there awhile. + +Fire exists the first in light, + And then consolidates, -- +Only the chemist can disclose + Into what carbonates. + + + + + +XXXI. + +A MAN. + +Fate slew him, but he did not drop; + She felled -- he did not fall -- +Impaled him on her fiercest stakes -- + He neutralized them all. + +She stung him, sapped his firm advance, + But, when her worst was done, +And he, unmoved, regarded her, + Acknowledged him a man. + + + + + +XXXII. + +VENTURES. + +Finite to fail, but infinite to venture. + For the one ship that struts the shore +Many's the gallant, overwhelmed creature + Nodding in navies nevermore. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +GRIEFS. + +I measure every grief I meet + With analytic eyes; +I wonder if it weighs like mine, + Or has an easier size. + +I wonder if they bore it long, + Or did it just begin? +I could not tell the date of mine, + It feels so old a pain. + +I wonder if it hurts to live, + And if they have to try, +And whether, could they choose between, + They would not rather die. + +I wonder if when years have piled -- + Some thousands -- on the cause +Of early hurt, if such a lapse + Could give them any pause; + +Or would they go on aching still + Through centuries above, +Enlightened to a larger pain + By contrast with the love. + +The grieved are many, I am told; + The reason deeper lies, -- +Death is but one and comes but once, + And only nails the eyes. + +There's grief of want, and grief of cold, -- + A sort they call 'despair;' +There's banishment from native eyes, + In sight of native air. + +And though I may not guess the kind + Correctly, yet to me +A piercing comfort it affords + In passing Calvary, + +To note the fashions of the cross, + Of those that stand alone, +Still fascinated to presume + That some are like my own. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +I have a king who does not speak; +So, wondering, thro' the hours meek + I trudge the day away,-- +Half glad when it is night and sleep, +If, haply, thro' a dream to peep + In parlors shut by day. + +And if I do, when morning comes, +It is as if a hundred drums + Did round my pillow roll, +And shouts fill all my childish sky, +And bells keep saying 'victory' + From steeples in my soul! + +And if I don't, the little Bird +Within the Orchard is not heard, + And I omit to pray, +'Father, thy will be done' to-day, +For my will goes the other way, + And it were perjury! + + + + + +XXXV. + +DISENCHANTMENT. + +It dropped so low in my regard + I heard it hit the ground, +And go to pieces on the stones + At bottom of my mind; + +Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less + Than I reviled myself +For entertaining plated wares + Upon my silver shelf. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +LOST FAITH. + +To lose one's faith surpasses + The loss of an estate, +Because estates can be + Replenished, -- faith cannot. + +Inherited with life, + Belief but once can be; +Annihilate a single clause, + And Being's beggary. + + + + + +XXXVII. + +LOST JOY. + +I had a daily bliss + I half indifferent viewed, +Till sudden I perceived it stir, -- + It grew as I pursued, + +Till when, around a crag, + It wasted from my sight, +Enlarged beyond my utmost scope, + I learned its sweetness right. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +I worked for chaff, and earning wheat + Was haughty and betrayed. +What right had fields to arbitrate + In matters ratified? + +I tasted wheat, -- and hated chaff, + And thanked the ample friend; +Wisdom is more becoming viewed + At distance than at hand. + + + + + +XXXIX. + +Life, and Death, and Giants + Such as these, are still. +Minor apparatus, hopper of the mill, +Beetle at the candle, + Or a fife's small fame, +Maintain by accident + That they proclaim. + + + + + +XL. + +ALPINE GLOW. + +Our lives are Swiss, -- + So still, so cool, + Till, some odd afternoon, +The Alps neglect their curtains, + And we look farther on. + +Italy stands the other side, + While, like a guard between, +The solemn Alps, +The siren Alps, + Forever intervene! + + + + + +XLI. + +REMEMBRANCE. + +Remembrance has a rear and front, -- + 'T is something like a house; +It has a garret also + For refuse and the mouse, + +Besides, the deepest cellar + That ever mason hewed; +Look to it, by its fathoms + Ourselves be not pursued. + + + + + +XLII. + +To hang our head ostensibly, + And subsequent to find +That such was not the posture + Of our immortal mind, + +Affords the sly presumption + That, in so dense a fuzz, +You, too, take cobweb attitudes + Upon a plane of gauze! + + + + + +XLIII. + +THE BRAIN. + +The brain is wider than the sky, + For, put them side by side, +The one the other will include + With ease, and you beside. + +The brain is deeper than the sea, + For, hold them, blue to blue, +The one the other will absorb, + As sponges, buckets do. + +The brain is just the weight of God, + For, lift them, pound for pound, +And they will differ, if they do, + As syllable from sound. + + + + + +XLIV. + +The bone that has no marrow; + What ultimate for that? +It is not fit for table, + For beggar, or for cat. + +A bone has obligations, + A being has the same; +A marrowless assembly + Is culpabler than shame. + +But how shall finished creatures + A function fresh obtain? -- +Old Nicodemus' phantom + Confronting us again! + + + + + +XLV. + +THE PAST. + +The past is such a curious creature, + To look her in the face +A transport may reward us, + Or a disgrace. + +Unarmed if any meet her, + I charge him, fly! +Her rusty ammunition + Might yet reply! + + + + + +XLVI. + +To help our bleaker parts + Salubrious hours are given, +Which if they do not fit for earth + Drill silently for heaven. + + + + + +XLVII. + +What soft, cherubic creatures + These gentlewomen are! +One would as soon assault a plush + Or violate a star. + +Such dimity convictions, + A horror so refined +Of freckled human nature, + Of Deity ashamed, -- + +It's such a common glory, + A fisherman's degree! +Redemption, brittle lady, + Be so, ashamed of thee. + + + + + +XLVIII. + +DESIRE. + +Who never wanted, -- maddest joy + Remains to him unknown: +The banquet of abstemiousness + Surpasses that of wine. + +Within its hope, though yet ungrasped + Desire's perfect goal, +No nearer, lest reality + Should disenthrall thy soul. + + + + + +XLIX. + +PHILOSOPHY. + +It might be easier + To fail with land in sight, +Than gain my blue peninsula + To perish of delight. + + + + + +L. + +POWER. + +You cannot put a fire out; + A thing that can ignite +Can go, itself, without a fan + Upon the slowest night. + +You cannot fold a flood + And put it in a drawer, -- +Because the winds would find it out, + And tell your cedar floor. + + + + + +LI. + +A modest lot, a fame petite, + A brief campaign of sting and sweet + Is plenty! Is enough! +A sailor's business is the shore, + A soldier's -- balls. Who asketh more +Must seek the neighboring life! + + + + + +LII. + +Is bliss, then, such abyss +I must not put my foot amiss +For fear I spoil my shoe? + +I'd rather suit my foot +Than save my boot, +For yet to buy another pair +Is possible +At any fair. + +But bliss is sold just once; +The patent lost +None buy it any more. + + + + + +LIII. + +EXPERIENCE. + +I stepped from plank to plank + So slow and cautiously; +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. + + + + + +LIV. + +THANKSGIVING DAY. + +One day is there of the series + Termed Thanksgiving day, +Celebrated part at table, + Part in memory. + +Neither patriarch nor pussy, + I dissect the play; +Seems it, to my hooded thinking, + Reflex holiday. + +Had there been no sharp subtraction + From the early sum, +Not an acre or a caption + Where was once a room, + +Not a mention, whose small pebble + Wrinkled any bay, -- +Unto such, were such assembly, + 'T were Thanksgiving day. + + + + + +LV. + +CHILDISH GRIEFS. + +Softened by Time's consummate plush, + How sleek the woe appears +That threatened childhood's citadel + And undermined the years! + +Bisected now by bleaker griefs, + We envy the despair +That devastated childhood's realm, + So easy to repair. + + + + + + +II. LOVE. + + +I. + +CONSECRATION. + +Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, + Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, +Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, + Not to partake thy passion, my humility. + + + + + +II. + +LOVE'S HUMILITY. + +My worthiness is all my doubt, + His merit all my fear, +Contrasting which, my qualities + Do lowlier appear; + +Lest I should insufficient prove + For his beloved need, +The chiefest apprehension + Within my loving creed. + +So I, the undivine abode + Of his elect content, +Conform my soul as 't were a church + Unto her sacrament. + + + + + +III. + +LOVE. + +Love is anterior to life, + Posterior to death, +Initial of creation, and + The exponent of breath. + + + + + +IV. + +SATISFIED. + +One blessing had I, than the rest + So larger to my eyes +That I stopped gauging, satisfied, + For this enchanted size. + +It was the limit of my dream, + The focus of my prayer, -- +A perfect, paralyzing bliss + Contented as despair. + +I knew no more of want or cold, + Phantasms both become, +For this new value in the soul, + Supremest earthly sum. + +The heaven below the heaven above + Obscured with ruddier hue. +Life's latitude leant over-full; + The judgment perished, too. + +Why joys so scantily disburse, + Why Paradise defer, +Why floods are served to us in bowls, -- + I speculate no more. + + + + + +V. + +WITH A FLOWER. + +When roses cease to bloom, dear, + And violets are done, +When bumble-bees in solemn flight + Have passed beyond the sun, + +The hand that paused to gather + Upon this summer's day +Will idle lie, in Auburn, -- + Then take my flower, pray! + + + + + +VI. + +SONG. + +Summer for thee grant I may be + When summer days are flown! +Thy music still when whippoorwill + And oriole are done! + +For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb + And sow my blossoms o'er! +Pray gather me, Anemone, + Thy flower forevermore! + + + + + +VII. + +LOYALTY. + +Split the lark and you'll find the music, + Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled, +Scantily dealt to the summer morning, + Saved for your ear when lutes be old. + +Loose the flood, you shall find it patent, + Gush after gush, reserved for you; +Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas, + Now, do you doubt that your bird was true? + + + + + +VIII. + +To lose thee, sweeter than to gain + All other hearts I knew. +'T is true the drought is destitute, + But then I had the dew! + +The Caspian has its realms of sand, + Its other realm of sea; +Without the sterile perquisite + No Caspian could be. + + + + + +IX. + + Poor little heart! + Did they forget thee? +Then dinna care! Then dinna care! + + Proud little heart! + Did they forsake thee? +Be debonair! Be debonair! + + Frail little heart! + I would not break thee: +Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? + + Gay little heart! + Like morning glory +Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be! + + + + + +X. + +FORGOTTEN. + +There is a word + Which bears a sword + Can pierce an armed man. +It hurls its barbed syllables,-- + At once is mute again. +But where it fell +The saved will tell + On patriotic day, +Some epauletted brother + Gave his breath away. + +Wherever runs the breathless sun, + Wherever roams the day, +There is its noiseless onset, + There is its victory! + +Behold the keenest marksman! + The most accomplished shot! +Time's sublimest target + Is a soul 'forgot'! + + + + + +XI. + +I've got an arrow here; + Loving the hand that sent it, +I the dart revere. + +Fell, they will say, in 'skirmish'! + Vanquished, my soul will know, +By but a simple arrow + Sped by an archer's bow. + + + + + +XII. + +THE MASTER. + +He fumbles at your spirit + As players at the keys +Before they drop full music on; + He stuns you by degrees, + +Prepares your brittle substance + For the ethereal blow, +By fainter hammers, further heard, + Then nearer, then so slow + +Your breath has time to straighten, + Your brain to bubble cool, -- +Deals one imperial thunderbolt + That scalps your naked soul. + + + + + +XIII. + +Heart, we will forget him! + You and I, to-night! +You may forget the warmth he gave, + I will forget the light. + +When you have done, pray tell me, + That I my thoughts may dim; +Haste! lest while you're lagging, + I may remember him! + + + + + +XIV. + +Father, I bring thee not myself, -- + That were the little load; +I bring thee the imperial heart + I had not strength to hold. + +The heart I cherished in my own + Till mine too heavy grew, +Yet strangest, heavier since it went, + Is it too large for you? + + + + + +XV. + +We outgrow love like other things + And put it in the drawer, +Till it an antique fashion shows + Like costumes grandsires wore. + + + + + +XVI. + +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 of bird + By boy descried, +To sing unto the stone + Of which it died. + + + + + +XVII. + +WHO? + +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! + + + + + +XVIII. + +He touched me, so I live to know +That such a day, permitted so, + I groped upon his breast. +It was a boundless place to me, +And silenced, as the awful sea + Puts minor streams to rest. + +And now, I'm different from before, +As if I breathed superior air, + Or brushed a royal gown; +My feet, too, that had wandered so, +My gypsy face transfigured now + To tenderer renown. + + + + + +XIX. + +DREAMS. + +Let me not mar that perfect dream + By an auroral stain, +But so adjust my daily night + That it will come again. + + + + + +XX. + +NUMEN LUMEN. + +I live with him, I see his face; + I go no more away +For visitor, or sundown; + Death's single privacy, + +The only one forestalling mine, + And that by right that he +Presents a claim invisible, + No wedlock granted me. + +I live with him, I hear his voice, + I stand alive to-day +To witness to the certainty + Of immortality + +Taught me by Time, -- the lower way, + Conviction every day, -- +That life like this is endless, + Be judgment what it may. + + + + + +XXI. + +LONGING. + +I envy seas whereon he rides, + I envy spokes of wheels +Of chariots that him convey, + I envy speechless hills + +That gaze upon his journey; + How easy all can see +What is forbidden utterly + As heaven, unto me! + +I envy nests of sparrows + That dot his distant eaves, +The wealthy fly upon his pane, + The happy, happy leaves + +That just abroad his window + Have summer's leave to be, +The earrings of Pizarro + Could not obtain for me. + +I envy light that wakes him, + And bells that boldly ring +To tell him it is noon abroad, -- + Myself his noon could bring, + +Yet interdict my blossom + And abrogate my bee, +Lest noon in everlasting night + Drop Gabriel and me. + + + + + +XXII. + +WEDDED. + +A solemn thing it was, I said, + A woman white to be, +And wear, if God should count me fit, + Her hallowed mystery. + +A timid thing to drop a life + Into the purple well, +Too plummetless that it come back + Eternity until. + + + + + + + + + +III. NATURE. + + +I. + +NATURE'S CHANGES. + +The springtime's pallid landscape + Will glow like bright bouquet, +Though drifted deep in parian + The village lies to-day. + +The lilacs, bending many a year, + With purple load will hang; +The bees will not forget the tune + Their old forefathers sang. + +The rose will redden in the bog, + The aster on the hill +Her everlasting fashion set, + And covenant gentians frill, + +Till summer folds her miracle + As women do their gown, +Or priests adjust the symbols + When sacrament is done. + + + + + +II. + +THE TULIP. + +She slept beneath a tree + Remembered but by me. +I touched her cradle mute; +She recognized the foot, +Put on her carmine suit, -- + And see! + + + + + +III. + +A light exists in spring + Not present on the year +At any other period. + When March is scarcely here + +A color stands abroad + On solitary hills +That science cannot overtake, + But human nature feels. + +It waits upon the lawn; + It shows the furthest tree +Upon the furthest slope we know; + It almost speaks to me. + +Then, as horizons step, + Or noons report away, +Without the formula of sound, + It passes, and we stay: + +A quality of loss + Affecting our content, +As trade had suddenly encroached + Upon a sacrament. + + + + + +IV. + +THE WAKING YEAR. + +A lady red upon the hill + Her annual secret keeps; +A lady white within the field + In placid lily sleeps! + +The tidy breezes with their brooms + Sweep vale, and hill, and tree! +Prithee, my pretty housewives! + Who may expected be? + +The neighbors do not yet suspect! + The woods exchange a smile -- +Orchard, and buttercup, and bird -- + In such a little while! + +And yet how still the landscape stands, + How nonchalant the wood, +As if the resurrection + Were nothing very odd! + + + + + +V. + +TO MARCH. + +Dear March, come in! +How glad I am! +I looked for you before. +Put down your hat -- +You must have walked -- +How out of breath you are! +Dear March, how are you? +And the rest? +Did you leave Nature well? +Oh, March, come right upstairs with me, +I have so much to tell! + +I got your letter, and the birds'; +The maples never knew +That you were coming, -- I declare, +How red their faces grew! +But, March, forgive me -- +And all those hills +You left for me to hue; +There was no purple suitable, +You took it all with you. + +Who knocks? That April! +Lock the door! +I will not be pursued! +He stayed away a year, to call +When I am occupied. +But trifles look so trivial +As soon as you have come, +That blame is just as dear as praise +And praise as mere as blame. + + + + + +VI. + +MARCH. + +We like March, his shoes are purple, + He is new and high; +Makes he mud for dog and peddler, + Makes he forest dry; +Knows the adder's tongue his coming, + And begets her spot. +Stands the sun so close and mighty + That our minds are hot. +News is he of all the others; + Bold it were to die +With the blue-birds buccaneering + On his British sky. + + + + +VII. + +DAWN. + +Not knowing when the dawn will come + I open every door; +Or has it feathers like a bird, + Or billows like a shore? + + + + + +VIII. + +A murmur in the trees to note, + Not loud enough for wind; +A star not far enough to seek, + Nor near enough to find; + +A long, long yellow on the lawn, + A hubbub as of feet; +Not audible, as ours to us, + But dapperer, more sweet; + +A hurrying home of little men + To houses unperceived, -- +All this, and more, if I should tell, + Would never be believed. + +Of robins in the trundle bed + How many I espy +Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings, + Although I heard them try! + +But then I promised ne'er to tell; + How could I break my word? +So go your way and I'll go mine, -- + No fear you'll miss the road. + + + + + +IX. + +Morning is the place for dew, + Corn is made at noon, +After dinner light for flowers, + Dukes for setting sun! + + + + + +X. + +To my quick ear the leaves conferred; + The bushes they were bells; +I could not find a privacy + From Nature's sentinels. + +In cave if I presumed to hide, + The walls began to tell; +Creation seemed a mighty crack + To make me visible. + + + + + +XI. + +A ROSE. + +A sepal, petal, and a thorn + Upon a common summer's morn, +A flash of dew, a bee or two, +A breeze +A caper in the trees, -- + And I'm a rose! + + + + + +XII. + +High from the earth I heard a bird; + He trod upon the trees +As he esteemed them trifles, + And then he spied a breeze, +And situated softly + Upon a pile of wind +Which in a perturbation + Nature had left behind. +A joyous-going fellow + I gathered from his talk, +Which both of benediction + And badinage partook, +Without apparent burden, + I learned, in leafy wood +He was the faithful father + Of a dependent brood; +And this untoward transport + His remedy for care, -- +A contrast to our respites. + How different we are! + + + + + +XIII. + +COBWEBS. + +The spider as an artist + Has never been employed +Though his surpassing merit + Is freely certified + +By every broom and Bridget + Throughout a Christian land. +Neglected son of genius, + I take thee by the hand. + + + + + +XIV. + +A WELL. + +What mystery pervades a well! + The water lives so far, +Like neighbor from another world + Residing in a jar. + +The grass does not appear afraid; + I often wonder he +Can stand so close and look so bold + At what is dread to me. + +Related somehow they may be, -- + The sedge stands next the sea, +Where he is floorless, yet of fear + No evidence gives he. + +But nature is a stranger yet; + The ones that cite her most +Have never passed her haunted house, + Nor simplified her ghost. + +To pity those that know her not + Is helped by the regret +That those who know her, know her less + The nearer her they get. + + + + + +XV. + +To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, -- +One clover, and a bee, +And revery. +The revery alone will do +If bees are few. + + + + + +XVI. + +THE WIND. + +It's like the light, -- + A fashionless delight +It's like the bee, -- + A dateless melody. + +It's like the woods, + Private like breeze, +Phraseless, yet it stirs + The proudest trees. + +It's like the morning, -- + Best when it's done, -- +The everlasting clocks + Chime noon. + + + + + +XVII. + +A dew sufficed itself + And satisfied a leaf, +And felt, 'how vast a destiny! + How trivial is life!' + +The sun went out to work, + The day went out to play, +But not again that dew was seen + By physiognomy. + +Whether by day abducted, + Or emptied by the sun +Into the sea, in passing, + Eternally unknown. + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE WOODPECKER. + +His bill an auger is, + His head, a cap and frill. +He laboreth at every tree, -- + A worm his utmost goal. + + + + + +XIX. + +A SNAKE. + +Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, + Until we meet a snake; +'T is then we sigh for houses, + And our departure take +At that enthralling gallop + That only childhood knows. +A snake is summer's treason, + And guile is where it goes. + + + + + +XX. + +Could I but ride indefinite, + As doth the meadow-bee, +And visit only where I liked, + And no man visit me, + +And flirt all day with buttercups, + And marry whom I may, +And dwell a little everywhere, + Or better, run away + +With no police to follow, + Or chase me if I do, +Till I should jump peninsulas + To get away from you, -- + +I said, but just to be a bee + Upon a raft of air, +And row in nowhere all day long, + And anchor off the bar,-- +What liberty! So captives deem + Who tight in dungeons are. + + + + + +XXI. + +THE MOON. + +The moon was but a chin of gold + A night or two ago, +And now she turns her perfect face + Upon the world below. + +Her forehead is of amplest blond; + Her cheek like beryl stone; +Her eye unto the summer dew + The likest I have known. + +Her lips of amber never part; + But what must be the smile +Upon her friend she could bestow + Were such her silver will! + +And what a privilege to be + But the remotest star! +For certainly her way might pass + Beside your twinkling door. + +Her bonnet is the firmament, + The universe her shoe, +The stars the trinkets at her belt, + Her dimities of blue. + + + + + +XXII. + +THE BAT. + +The bat is dun with wrinkled wings + Like fallow article, +And not a song pervades his lips, + Or none perceptible. + +His small umbrella, quaintly halved, + Describing in the air +An arc alike inscrutable, -- + Elate philosopher! + +Deputed from what firmament + Of what astute abode, +Empowered with what malevolence + Auspiciously withheld. + +To his adroit Creator + Ascribe no less the praise; +Beneficent, believe me, + His eccentricities. + + + + + +XXIII. + +THE BALLOON. + +You've seen balloons set, haven't you? + So stately they ascend +It is as swans discarded you + For duties diamond. + +Their liquid feet go softly out + Upon a sea of blond; +They spurn the air as 't were too mean + For creatures so renowned. + +Their ribbons just beyond the eye, + They struggle some for breath, +And yet the crowd applauds below; + They would not encore death. + +The gilded creature strains and spins, + Trips frantic in a tree, +Tears open her imperial veins + And tumbles in the sea. + +The crowd retire with an oath + The dust in streets goes down, +And clerks in counting-rooms observe, + ''T was only a balloon.' + + + + + +XXIV. + +EVENING. + +The cricket sang, +And set the sun, +And workmen finished, one by one, + Their seam the day upon. + +The low grass loaded with the dew, +The twilight stood as strangers do +With hat in hand, polite and new, + To stay as if, or go. + +A vastness, as a neighbor, came, -- +A wisdom without face or name, +A peace, as hemispheres at home, -- + And so the night became. + + + + + +XXV. + +COCOON. + +Drab habitation of whom? +Tabernacle or tomb, +Or dome of worm, +Or porch of gnome, +Or some elf's catacomb? + + + + +XXVI. + +SUNSET. + +A sloop of amber slips away + Upon an ether sea, +And wrecks in peace a purple tar, + The son of ecstasy. + + + + + +XXVII. + +AURORA. + +Of bronze and blaze + The north, to-night! + So adequate its forms, +So preconcerted with itself, + So distant to alarms, -- +An unconcern so sovereign + To universe, or me, +It paints my simple spirit + With tints of majesty, +Till I take vaster attitudes, + And strut upon my stem, +Disdaining men and oxygen, + For arrogance of them. + +My splendors are menagerie; + But their competeless show +Will entertain the centuries + When I am, long ago, +An island in dishonored grass, + Whom none but daisies know. + + + + + +XXVIII. + +THE COMING OF NIGHT. + +How the old mountains drip with sunset, + And the brake of dun! +How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel + By the wizard sun! + +How the old steeples hand the scarlet, + Till the ball is full, -- +Have I the lip of the flamingo + That I dare to tell? + +Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, + Touching all the grass +With a departing, sapphire feature, + As if a duchess pass! + +How a small dusk crawls on the village + Till the houses blot; +And the odd flambeaux no men carry + Glimmer on the spot! + +Now it is night in nest and kennel, + And where was the wood, +Just a dome of abyss is nodding + Into solitude! -- + +These are the visions baffled Guido; + Titian never told; +Domenichino dropped the pencil, + Powerless to unfold. + + + + + +XXIX. + +AFTERMATH. + +The murmuring of bees has ceased; + But murmuring of some +Posterior, prophetic, + Has simultaneous come, -- + +The lower metres of the year, + When nature's laugh is done, -- +The Revelations of the book + Whose Genesis is June. + + + + + + +IV. TIME AND ETERNITY. + +I. + +This world is not conclusion; + A sequel stands beyond, +Invisible, as music, + But positive, as sound. +It beckons and it baffles; + Philosophies don't know, +And through a riddle, at the last, + Sagacity must go. +To guess it puzzles scholars; + To gain it, men have shown +Contempt of generations, + And crucifixion known. + + + + + +II. + +We learn in the retreating + How vast an one +Was recently among us. + A perished sun + +Endears in the departure + How doubly more +Than all the golden presence + It was before! + + + + + +III. + +They say that 'time assuages,' -- + Time never did assuage; +An actual suffering strengthens, + As sinews do, with age. + +Time is a test of trouble, + But not a remedy. +If such it prove, it prove too + There was no malady. + + + + + +IV. + +We cover thee, sweet face. + Not that we tire of thee, +But that thyself fatigue of us; + Remember, as thou flee, +We follow thee until + Thou notice us no more, +And then, reluctant, turn away + To con thee o'er and o'er, +And blame the scanty love + We were content to show, +Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold + If thou would'st take it now. + + + + + +V. + +ENDING. + +That is solemn we have ended, -- + Be it but a play, +Or a glee among the garrets, + Or a holiday, + +Or a leaving home; or later, + Parting with a world +We have understood, for better + Still it be unfurled. + + + + + +VI. + +The stimulus, beyond the grave + His countenance to see, +Supports me like imperial drams + Afforded royally. + + + + + +VII. + +Given in marriage unto thee, + Oh, thou celestial host! +Bride of the Father and the Son, + Bride of the Holy Ghost! + +Other betrothal shall dissolve, + Wedlock of will decay; +Only the keeper of this seal + Conquers mortality. + + + + + + +VIII. + +That such have died enables us + The tranquiller to die; +That such have lived, certificate + For immortality. + + + + + +IX. + +They won't frown always, -- some sweet day + When I forget to tease, +They'll recollect how cold I looked, + And how I just said 'please.' + +Then they will hasten to the door + To call the little child, +Who cannot thank them, for the ice + That on her lisping piled. + + + + + +X. + +IMMORTALITY. + +It is an honorable thought, + And makes one lift one's hat, +As one encountered gentlefolk + Upon a daily street, + +That we've immortal place, + Though pyramids decay, +And kingdoms, like the orchard, + Flit russetly away. + + + + + +XI. + +The distance that the dead have gone + Does not at first appear; +Their coming back seems possible + For many an ardent year. + +And then, that we have followed them + We more than half suspect, +So intimate have we become + With their dear retrospect. + + + + + +XII. + +How dare the robins sing, + When men and women hear +Who since they went to their account + Have settled with the year! -- +Paid all that life had earned + In one consummate bill, +And now, what life or death can do + Is immaterial. +Insulting is the sun + To him whose mortal light, +Beguiled of immortality, + Bequeaths him to the night. +In deference to him + Extinct be every hum, +Whose garden wrestles with the dew, + At daybreak overcome! + + + + + +XIII. + +DEATH. + +Death is like the insect + Menacing the tree, +Competent to kill it, + But decoyed may be. + +Bait it with the balsam, + Seek it with the knife, +Baffle, if it cost you + Everything in life. + +Then, if it have burrowed + Out of reach of skill, +Ring the tree and leave it, -- + 'T is the vermin's will. + + + + + +XIV. + +UNWARNED. + +'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou + No station in the day? +'T was not thy wont to hinder so, -- + Retrieve thine industry. + +'T is noon, my little maid, alas! + And art thou sleeping yet? +The lily waiting to be wed, + The bee, dost thou forget? + +My little maid, 't is night; alas, + That night should be to thee +Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached + Thy little plan to me, +Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet, + I might have aided thee. + + + + + +XV. + +Each that we lose takes part of us; + A crescent still abides, +Which like the moon, some turbid night, + Is summoned by the tides. + + + + + +XVI. + +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 + By summer's gracious mien. + + + + + +XVII. + +ASLEEP. + +As far from pity as complaint, + As cool to speech as stone, +As numb to revelation + As if my trade were bone. + +As far from time as history, + As near yourself to-day +As children to the rainbow's scarf, + Or sunset's yellow play + +To eyelids in the sepulchre. + How still the dancer lies, +While color's revelations break, + And blaze the butterflies! + + + + + +XVIII. + +THE SPIRIT. + +'T is whiter than an Indian pipe, + 'T is dimmer than a lace; +No stature has it, like a fog, + When you approach the place. + +Not any voice denotes it here, + Or intimates it there; +A spirit, how doth it accost? + What customs hath the air? + +This limitless hyperbole + Each one of us shall be; +'T is drama, if (hypothesis) + It be not tragedy! + + + + + +XIX. + +THE MONUMENT. + +She laid her docile crescent down, + And this mechanic stone +Still states, to dates that have forgot, + The news that she is gone. + +So constant to its stolid trust, + The shaft that never knew, +It shames the constancy that fled + Before its emblem flew. + + + + + +XX. + +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. + + + + + +XXI. + +Immortal is an ample word + When what we need is by, +But when it leaves us for a time, + 'T is a necessity. + +Of heaven above the firmest proof + We fundamental know, +Except for its marauding hand, + It had been heaven below. + + + + + +XXII. + +Where every bird is bold to go, + And bees abashless play, +The foreigner before he knocks + Must thrust the tears away. + + + + + +XXIII. + +The grave my little cottage is, + Where, keeping house for thee, +I make my parlor orderly, + And lay the marble tea, + +For two divided, briefly, + A cycle, it may be, +Till everlasting life unite + In strong society. + + + + + +XXIV. + +This was in the white of the year, + That was in the green, +Drifts were as difficult then to think + As daisies now to be seen. + +Looking back is best that is left, + Or if it be before, +Retrospection is prospect's half, + Sometimes almost more. + + + + + +XXV. + +Sweet hours have perished here; + This is a mighty room; +Within its precincts hopes have played, -- + Now shadows in the tomb. + + + + + +XXVI. + +Me! Come! My dazzled face +In such a shining place! + +Me! Hear! My foreign ear +The sounds of welcome near! + +The saints shall meet +Our bashful feet. + +My holiday shall be +That they remember me; + +My paradise, the fame +That they pronounce my name. + + + + + +XXVII. + +INVISIBLE. + +From us she wandered now a year, + Her tarrying unknown; +If wilderness prevent her feet, + Or that ethereal zone + +No eye hath seen and lived, + We ignorant must be. +We only know what time of year + We took the mystery. + + + + + + +XXVIII. + +I wish I knew that woman's name, + So, when she comes this way, +To hold my life, and hold my ears, + For fear I hear her say + +She's 'sorry I am dead,' again, + Just when the grave and I +Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, -- + Our only lullaby. + + + + + +XXIX. + +TRYING TO FORGET. + +Bereaved of all, I went abroad, + No less bereaved to be +Upon a new peninsula, -- + The grave preceded me, + +Obtained my lodgings ere myself, + And when I sought my bed, +The grave it was, reposed upon + The pillow for my head. + +I waked, to find it first awake, + I rose, -- it followed me; +I tried to drop it in the crowd, + To lose it in the sea, + +In cups of artificial drowse + To sleep its shape away, -- +The grave was finished, but the spade + Remained in memory. + + + + + +XXX. + +I felt a funeral in my brain, + And mourners, to and fro, +Kept treading, treading, till it seemed + That sense was breaking through. + +And when they all were seated, + A service like a drum +Kept beating, beating, till I thought + My mind was going numb. + +And then I heard them lift a box, + And creak across my soul +With those same boots of lead, again. + Then space began to toll + +As all the heavens were a bell, + And Being but an ear, +And I and silence some strange race, + Wrecked, solitary, here. + + + + + +XXXI. + +I meant to find her when I came; + Death had the same design; +But the success was his, it seems, + And the discomfit mine. + +I meant to tell her how I longed + For just this single time; +But Death had told her so the first, + And she had hearkened him. + +To wander now is my abode; + To rest, -- to rest would be +A privilege of hurricane + To memory and me. + + + + + +XXXII. + +WAITING. + +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 sang + To keep the dark away. + + + + + +XXXIII. + +A sickness of this world it most occasions + When best men die; +A wishfulness their far condition + To occupy. + +A chief indifference, as foreign + A world must be +Themselves forsake contented, + For Deity. + + + + + +XXXIV. + +Superfluous were the sun + When excellence is dead; +He were superfluous every day, + For every day is said + +That syllable whose faith + Just saves it from despair, +And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates + If love inquire, 'Where?' + +Upon his dateless fame + Our periods may lie, +As stars that drop anonymous + From an abundant sky. + + + + + +XXXV. + +So proud she was to die + It made us all ashamed +That what we cherished, so unknown + To her desire seemed. + +So satisfied to go + Where none of us should be, +Immediately, that anguish stooped + Almost to jealousy. + + + + + +XXXVI. + +FAREWELL. + +Tie the strings to my life, my Lord, + Then I am ready to go! +Just a look at the horses -- + Rapid! That will do! + +Put me in on the firmest side, + So I shall never fall; +For we must ride to the Judgment, + And it's partly down hill. + +But never I mind the bridges, + And never I mind the sea; +Held fast in everlasting race + By my own choice and thee. + +Good-by to the life I used to live, + And the world I used to know; +And kiss the hills for me, just once; + Now I am ready to go! + + + + + +XXXVII. + +The dying need but little, dear, -- + A glass of water's all, +A flower's unobtrusive face + To punctuate the wall, + +A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret, + And certainly that one +No color in the rainbow + Perceives when you are gone. + + + + + +XXXVIII. + +DEAD. + +There's something quieter than sleep + Within this inner room! +It wears a sprig upon its breast, + And will not tell its name. + +Some touch it and some kiss it, + Some chafe its idle hand; +It has a simple gravity + I do not understand! + +While simple-hearted neighbors + Chat of the 'early dead,' +We, prone to periphrasis, + Remark that birds have fled! + + + + + +XXXIX. + +The soul should always stand ajar, + That if the heaven inquire, +He will not be obliged to wait, + Or shy of troubling her. + +Depart, before the host has slid + The bolt upon the door, +To seek for the accomplished guest, -- + Her visitor no more. + + + + + +XL. + +Three weeks passed since I had seen her, -- + Some disease had vexed; +'T was with text and village singing + I beheld her next, + +And a company -- our pleasure + To discourse alone; +Gracious now to me as any, + Gracious unto none. + +Borne, without dissent of either, + To the parish night; +Of the separated people + Which are out of sight? + + + + + +XLI. + +I breathed enough to learn the trick, + And now, removed from air, +I simulate the breath so well, + That one, to be quite sure + +The lungs are stirless, must descend + Among the cunning cells, +And touch the pantomime himself. + How cool the bellows feels! + + + + + +XLII. + +I wonder if the sepulchre + Is not a lonesome way, +When men and boys, and larks and June + Go down the fields to hay! + + + + + +XLIII. + +JOY IN DEATH. + +If tolling bell I ask the cause. + 'A soul has gone to God,' +I'm answered in a lonesome tone; + Is heaven then so sad? + +That bells should joyful ring to tell + A soul had gone to heaven, +Would seem to me the proper way + A good news should be given. + + + + + +XLIV. + +If I may have it when it's dead + I will contented be; +If just as soon as breath is out + It shall belong to me, + +Until they lock it in the grave, + 'T is bliss I cannot weigh, +For though they lock thee in the grave, + Myself can hold the key. + +Think of it, lover! I and thee + Permitted face to face to be; +After a life, a death we'll say, -- + For death was that, and this is thee. + + + + + +XLV. + +Before the ice is in the pools, + Before the skaters go, +Or any cheek at nightfall + Is tarnished by the snow, + +Before the fields have finished, + Before the Christmas tree, +Wonder upon wonder + Will arrive to me! + +What we touch the hems of + On a summer's day; +What is only walking + Just a bridge away; + +That which sings so, speaks so, + When there's no one here, -- +Will the frock I wept in + Answer me to wear? + + + + + +XLVI. + +DYING. + +I heard a fly buzz when I died; + The stillness round my form +Was like the stillness in the air + Between the heaves of storm. + +The eyes beside had wrung them dry, + And breaths were gathering sure +For that last onset, when the king + Be witnessed in his power. + +I willed my keepsakes, signed away + What portion of me I +Could make assignable, -- and then + There interposed a fly, + +With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz, + Between the light and me; +And then the windows failed, and then + I could not see to see. + + + + + +XLVII. + +Adrift! A little boat adrift! + And night is coming down! +Will no one guide a little boat + Unto the nearest town? + +So sailors say, on yesterday, + Just as the dusk was brown, +One little boat gave up its strife, + And gurgled down and down. + +But angels say, on yesterday, + Just as the dawn was red, +One little boat o'erspent with gales +Retrimmed its masts, redecked its sails + Exultant, onward sped! + + + + + +XLVIII. + +There's been a death in the opposite house + As lately as to-day. +I know it by the numb look + Such houses have alway. + +The neighbors rustle in and out, + The doctor drives away. +A window opens like a pod, + Abrupt, mechanically; + +Somebody flings a mattress out, -- + The children hurry by; +They wonder if It died on that, -- + I used to when a boy. + +The minister goes stiffly in + As if the house were his, +And he owned all the mourners now, + And little boys besides; + +And then the milliner, and the man + Of the appalling trade, +To take the measure of the house. + There'll be that dark parade + +Of tassels and of coaches soon; + It's easy as a sign, -- +The intuition of the news + In just a country town. + + + + + +XLIX. + +We never know we go, -- when we are going + We jest and shut the door; +Fate following behind us bolts it, + And we accost no more. + + + + +L. + +THE SOUL'S STORM. + +It struck me every day + The lightning was as new +As if the cloud that instant slit + And let the fire through. + +It burned me in the night, + It blistered in my dream; +It sickened fresh upon my sight + With every morning's beam. + +I thought that storm was brief, -- + The maddest, quickest by; +But Nature lost the date of this, + And left it in the sky. + + + + + +LI. + +Water is taught by thirst; +Land, by the oceans passed; + Transport, by throe; +Peace, by its battles told; +Love, by memorial mould; + Birds, by the snow. + + + + +LII. + +THIRST. + +We thirst at first, -- 't is Nature's act; + And later, when we die, +A little water supplicate + Of fingers going by. + +It intimates the finer want, + Whose adequate supply +Is that great water in the west + Termed immortality. + + + + + +LIII. + +A clock stopped -- not the mantel's; + Geneva's farthest skill +Can't put the puppet bowing + That just now dangled still. + +An awe came on the trinket! + The figures hunched with pain, +Then quivered out of decimals + Into degreeless noon. + +It will not stir for doctors, + This pendulum of snow; +The shopman importunes it, + While cool, concernless No + +Nods from the gilded pointers, + Nods from the seconds slim, +Decades of arrogance between + The dial life and him. + + + + + +LIV. + +CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S GRAVE. + +All overgrown by cunning moss, + All interspersed with weed, +The little cage of 'Currer Bell,' + In quiet Haworth laid. + +This bird, observing others, + When frosts too sharp became, +Retire to other latitudes, + Quietly did the same, + +But differed in returning; + Since Yorkshire hills are green, +Yet not in all the nests I meet + Can nightingale be seen. + +Gathered from many wanderings, + Gethsemane can tell +Through what transporting anguish + She reached the asphodel! + +Soft fall the sounds of Eden + Upon her puzzled ear; +Oh, what an afternoon for heaven, + When 'Bronte' entered there! + + + + + +LV. + +A toad can die of light! +Death is the common right + Of toads and men, -- +Of earl and midge +The privilege. + Why swagger then? +The gnat's supremacy +Is large as thine. + + + + + +LVI. + +Far from love the Heavenly Father + Leads the chosen child; +Oftener through realm of briar + Than the meadow mild, + +Oftener by the claw of dragon + Than the hand of friend, +Guides the little one predestined + To the native land. + + + + + +LVII. + +SLEEPING. + +A long, long sleep, a famous sleep + That makes no show for dawn +By stretch of limb or stir of lid, -- + An independent one. + +Was ever idleness like this? + Within a hut of stone +To bask the centuries away + Nor once look up for noon? + + + + + +LVIII. + +RETROSPECT. + +'T was just this time last year I died. + I know I heard the corn, +When I was carried by the farms, -- + It had the tassels on. + +I thought how yellow it would look + When Richard went to mill; +And then I wanted to get out, + But something held my will. + +I thought just how red apples wedged + The stubble's joints between; +And carts went stooping round the fields + To take the pumpkins in. + +I wondered which would miss me least, + And when Thanksgiving came, +If father'd multiply the plates + To make an even sum. + +And if my stocking hung too high, + Would it blur the Christmas glee, +That not a Santa Claus could reach + The altitude of me? + +But this sort grieved myself, and so + I thought how it would be +When just this time, some perfect year, + Themselves should come to me. + + + + + +LIX. + +ETERNITY. + +On this wondrous sea, +Sailing silently, + Ho! pilot, ho! +Knowest thou the shore +Where no breakers roar, + Where the storm is o'er? + +In the silent west +Many sails at rest, + Their anchors fast; +Thither I pilot thee, -- +Land, ho! Eternity! + Ashore at last! + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poems: Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS: THREE SERIES, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 12242.txt or 12242.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/2/4/12242/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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