Upload EmilyDickinsonCompleteWorks2.txt

EmilyDickinsonCompleteWorks2.txt

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+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 o f 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 wit h 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!
+
+
+
+
+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!