I could die—to know, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

I could die—to know

570

I could die—to know—

’Tis a trifling knowledge—

News-Boys salute the Door—

Carts—joggle by—

Morning’s bold face—stares in the window—

Were but mine—the Charter of the least Fly—

Houses hunch the House

With their Brick Shoulders—

Coals—from a Rolling Load—rattle—how—near—

To the very Square—His foot is passing—

Possibly, this moment—

While I—dream—Here—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

¿Disfrutate esta lectura? ¡invítanos a un café!.
Tu ayuda nos permite existir.

Otras obras de Emily Dickinson...

Cocoon Above! Cocoon Below!

129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree

May-Flower

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

Death Sets a Thing of Signigicant

Death sets a thing significant The eye had hurried by, Except a perished creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little workmanships

Life XLVIII. Though I get home how late, how late!

XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,

They won’t frown always—some sweet Day

874 They won’t frown always—some sweet… When I forget to tease— They’ll recollect how cold I look… And how I just said “Please.”

I Made Slow Riches But my Gain

843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One

Is it dead—Find it—

417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?

All I May, If Small

819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy

Smiling Back From Coronation

385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—

I cried at Pity—not at Pain—

588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—

She Hideth Her the Last

557 She hideth Her the last— And is the first, to rise— Her Night doth hardly recompense The Closing of Her eyes—

Grief Is a Mouse

793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose—

204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—

A First Mute Coming

702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—

Why Do I Love You, Sir?

“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.

Emily Dickinson

I could die—to know

Comparte

Otras obras de Emily Dickinson...