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Authors: Emily Dickinson
The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (9 page)
BOOK: The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)
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ARE friends delight or pain?
Could bounty but remain
Riches were good.
Could bounty but remain
Riches were good.
But if they only stay
Bolder to fly away,
Riches are sad.
Bolder to fly away,
Riches are sad.
CXIII
ASHES denote that fire was;
Respect the grayest pile
For the departed creature’s sake
That hovered there awhile.
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.
62
And then consolidates,—
Only the chemist can disclose
Into what carbonates.
62
CXIV
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 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.
But, when her worst was done,
And he, unmoved, regarded her,
Acknowledged him a man.
CXV
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.
For the one ship that struts the shore
Many’s the gallant, overwhelmed creature
Nodding in navies nevermore.
CXVI
I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
Or has an easier size.
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.
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.
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;
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.
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.
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.
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,
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.
Of those that stand alone,
Still fascinated to presume
That some are like my own.
CXVII
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.
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!
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”
63
to-day,
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!
Within the Orchard is not heard,
And I omit to pray,
“Father, thy will be done”
63
to-day,
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!
CXVIII
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;
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.
Than I reviled myself
For entertaining plated wares
Upon my silver shelf.
CXIX
TO lose one’s faith surpasses
The loss of an estate,
Because estates can be
Replenished,—faith cannot.
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.
Belief but once can be;
Annihilate a single clause,
And Being’s beggary.
CXX
I had a daily bliss
I half indifferent viewed,
Till sudden I perceived it stir,—
It grew as I pursued,
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.
It wasted from my sight,
Enlarged beyond my utmost scope,
I learned its sweetness right.
CXXI
I worked for chaff, and earning wheat
Was haughty and betrayed.
What right had fields to arbitrate
In matters ratified?
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.
And thanked the ample friend;
Wisdom is more becoming viewed
At distance than at hand.
CXXII
LIFE, and Death, and Giants
Such as these, are still.
Minor apparatus, hopper
64
of the mill,
Beetle at the candle,
Or a fife‘s
65
small fame,
Maintain by accident
That they proclaim.
Such as these, are still.
Minor apparatus, hopper
64
of the mill,
Beetle at the candle,
Or a fife‘s
65
small fame,
Maintain by accident
That they proclaim.
CXXIII
OUR lives are Swiss,—
So still, so cool,
Till, some odd afternoon,
The Alps neglect their curtains,
And we look farther on.
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!
While, like a guard between,
The solemn Alps,
The siren Alps,
Forever intervene!
CXXIV
REMEMBRANCE has a rear and front,—
’T is something like a house;
It has a garret
66
also
For refuse and the mouse,
’T is something like a house;
It has a garret
66
also
For refuse and the mouse,
Besides, the deepest cellar
That ever mason hewed;
67
Look to it, by its fathoms
Ourselves be not pursued.
That ever mason hewed;
67
Look to it, by its fathoms
Ourselves be not pursued.
CXXV
TO hang our head ostensibly,
And subsequent to find
That such was not the posture
Of our immortal mind,
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!
That, in so dense a fuzz,
You, too, take cobweb attitudes
Upon a plane of gauze!
CXXVI
THE brain is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.
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.
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.
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.
CXXVII
THE bone that has no marrow;
What ultimate for that?
It is not fit for table,
For beggar, or for cat.
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.
A being has the same;
A marrowless assembly
Is culpabler than shame.
But how shall finished creatures
A function fresh obtain?—
Old Nicodemus‘
68
phantom
Confronting us again!
A function fresh obtain?—
Old Nicodemus‘
68
phantom
Confronting us again!
CXXVIII
THE past is such a curious creature,
To look her in the face
A transport may reward us,
Or a disgrace.
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!
I charge him, fly!
Her rusty ammunition
Might yet reply!
CXXIX
TO help our bleaker parts
Salubrious hours are given,
Which if they do not fit for earth
Drill silently for heaven.
Salubrious hours are given,
Which if they do not fit for earth
Drill silently for heaven.
CXXX
WHAT soft, cherubic creatures
These gentlewomen are!
One would as soon assault a plush
Or violate a star.
These gentlewomen are!
One would as soon assault a plush
Or violate a star.
It’s such a common glory,
A fisherman’s degree!
Redemption, brittle lady,
Be so, ashamed of thee.
A fisherman’s degree!
Redemption, brittle lady,
Be so, ashamed of thee.
CXXXI
WHO never wanted,—maddest joy
Remains to him unknown;
The banquet of abstemiousness
70
Surpasses that of wine.
Remains to him unknown;
The banquet of abstemiousness
70
Surpasses that of wine.
Within its hope, though yet ungrasped
Desire’s perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality
Should disenthrall thy soul.
Desire’s perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality
Should disenthrall thy soul.
CXXXII
IT might be easier
To fail with land in sight,
Than gain my blue peninsula
To perish of delight.
To fail with land in sight,
Than gain my blue peninsula
To perish of delight.
CXXXIII
YOU cannot put a fire out;
A thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a fan
Upon the slowest night.
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.
And put it in a drawer,—
Because the winds would find it out,
And tell your cedar floor.
CXXXIV
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!
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!
CXXXV
Is bliss, then, such abyss
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?
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.
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.
The patent lost
None buy it any more.
CXXXVI
I stepped from plank to plank
So slow and cautiously;
The stars about my head I felt,
About my feet the sea.
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.
Would be my final inch,—
This gave me that precarious gait
Some call experience.
CXXXVII
ONE day is there of the series
Termed Thanksgiving day,
Celebrated part at table,
Part in memory.
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.
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,
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.
Wrinkled any bay,—
Unto such, were such assembly,
’T were Thanksgiving day.
CXXXVIII
SOFTENED by Time’s consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood’s citadel
And undermined the years!
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.
We envy the despair
That devastated childhood’s realm,
So easy to repair.
PART TWO
NATURE
MY nosegays are for captives;
Dim, long-expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
Patient till paradise.
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.
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.
I
NATURE, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,—
Her admonition mild
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.
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
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.
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,
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.
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.
II
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?
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?
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!
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.
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.
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.
Nor implement was seen,
And place was where the presence was,
Circumference between.
IV
THE day came slow, till five o‘clock,
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies, or the light
A sudden musket spills.
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 sunrise shook from fold,
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.
The happy winds their timbrels
71
took;
The birds, in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince
(The wind is prince of those).
71
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!
How mighty ’t was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day!
V
THE sun just touched the morning;
The morning, happy thing,
Supposed that he had come to dwell,
And life would be all spring.
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
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!
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.
Felt feebly for her crown,—
Her unanointed forehead
Henceforth her only one.
VI
THE robin is the one
That interrupts the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.
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.
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.
That speechless from her nest
Submits that home and certainty
And sanctity are best.
VII
FROM cocoon forth a butterfly
As lady from her door
Emerged—a summer afternoon-
Repairing everywhere,
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.
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,
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.
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,
And flower that zealous blew,
This audience of idleness
Disdained them, from the sky,
BOOK: The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)
10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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