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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

It Was Too Late for Man

623
 
It was too late for Man—
But early, yet, for God—
Creation—impotent to help—
But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
 
How excellent the Heaven—
When Earth—cannot be had—
How hospitable—then—the face
Of our Old Neighbor—God—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...
Definition of Poetry

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry....
The dying need but little, dear

The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
To hang our head—ostensibly—

105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
 1
As If the Sea Should Part

695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
You Know That Portrait in the Moon

504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
 1
I see thee better—in the Dark—

I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years
 1
This was a Poet (448)

This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
 1
The Moon Was But a Chin of Gold

737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—
Water, Is Taught by Thirst

135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
 1
The Love a Life Can Show Below

673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…
I Heard a Fly Buzz When I Died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
 1
The Gentian Weaves Her Fringes

18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
I Want—It Pleaded—all Its Life

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
This was a Poet—It is That

448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense
’Tis Anguish Grander Than Delight

984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.



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