Mine enemy is growing old, by Emily Dickinson

Mine enemy is growing old

MINE enemy is growing old,

I have at last revenge.

The palate of the hate departs;

If any would avenge,

Let him be quick, the viand flits,

It is a faded meat.

Anger as soon as fed is dead;

‘T is starving makes it fat.

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A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,

The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.

LXVII A DEED knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.

649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday

Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –

155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—

Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—

789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty

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

A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,

Image of Light, Adieu - Thanks for the interview - So long– so short – Preceptor of the whole - Coeval Cardinal -

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —

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

Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -