A Sickness of This World It Most Occasions, di Emily Dickinson

A Sickness of This World It Most Occasions

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.

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627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—

469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—

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

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—

356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—

Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?

730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—

1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—

345 Funny—to be a Century— And see the People—going by— I—should die of the Oddity— But then—I’m not so staid—as He—

If Nature smiles - the Mother mu… I’m sure, at many a whim Of Her eccentric Family - Is She so much to blame?

479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

638 To my small Hearth His fire came— And all my House aglow Did fan and rock, with sudden ligh… ’Twas Sunrise—'twas the Sky—

634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—

571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—