If Any Sink, Assure That This, Now Standing, par Emily Dickinson

If Any Sink, Assure That This, Now Standing

358

If any sink, assure that this, now standing—

Failed like Themselves—and conscious that it rose—

Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding

How Weakness passed—or Force—arose—

Tell that the Worst, is easy in a Moment—

Dread, but the Whizzing, before the Ball—

When the Ball enters, enters Silence—

Dying—annuls the power to kill.

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633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.

It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!

High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly

532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—

523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—

69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.

483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—

Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…

260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—

132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;

513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…