Poems by Emily Dickinson
After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- (341)
After great pain, a formal feeling comes -The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs
The stiff Heart questions, was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round -Of Ground, or Air, or Ought -A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone -This is the Hour of Lead -Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go --
Because I could not stop for Death (712)
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 strove
At Recess--in the Ring-We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain-We passed the Setting Sun-Or rather--He passed us-The Dews drew quivering and chill-For only Gossamer, my Gown-My Tippet--only Tulle-We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground-The Roof was scarcely visible-The Cornice--in the Ground-Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity--
The Brain—is wider than the Sky (632)
The Brain—is wider than the Sky—
For—put them side by side—
The one the other will contain
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—Heft them—Pound for Pound—
And they will differ—if they do—
As Syllable from Sound—
I heard a fly buzz when I died
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.
I Never Saw a Moor
I never saw a moor;
I never saw the sea,
Yet know I how the heather looks
And what a billow be.
I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven.
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the checks were given.
I taste a liquor never brewed
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 the landlord 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!
Much Madness is divinest Sense
Much Madness is divinest Sense To a discerning Eye Much Sense - the starkest Madness `Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail Assent - and you are sane Demur - you`re straightaway dangerous And handled with a Chain -
Wild Nights—Wild Nights! (249)
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—Tonight—
In Thee!
I'm nobody! Who are you?
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish -- you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
There's a certain Slant of light (258)
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons-That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes-Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are-None may teach it--Any-'Tis the Seal Despair-An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air-When it comes, the Landscape listens-Shadows--hold their breath-When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death--