As from the earth the light Balloon, por Emily Dickinson

As from the earth the light Balloon

Asks nothing but release -

Ascension that for which it was,

Its soaring Residence.

The spirit looks upon the Dust

That fastened it so long

With indignation,

As a Bird

Defrauded of its song.

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636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—

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

Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds

Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.

240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—

976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—

893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—

XXII I GAVE myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way.

23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—

Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled

168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!

Let me not mar that perfect Dream By an Auroral stain But so adjust my daily Night That it will come again. Not when we know, the Power accos…

Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

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 flung it…

78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—