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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

They Shut Me Up in Prose

They shut me up in Prose—
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet—
Because they liked me “still”—
 
Still! Could themself have peeped—
And seen my Brain—go round—
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason—in the Pound—
 
Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity—
And laugh—No more have I—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Autres oeuvres par Emily Dickinson...
There Came a Day at Summer’s Full

322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—
Expectation—is Contentment—

807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
 1
Dare You See a Soul at the White Heat?

365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
I pay—in Satin Cash—

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—
Truth—is as old as God—

836 Truth—is as old as God— His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity—
One Anguish—in a Crowd—

565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
 1
 1
Before the Ice Is in the Pools

37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
’Tis Customary as We Part

440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
Ribbons of the Year

873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
 1
The Brain, Within Its Groove

556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—
My Friend Must Be a Bird

92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
 1
Poor Little Heart!

192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
The Wind Tapped Like a Tired Man,

The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,
 1
I Felt a Funeral, in my Brain (280)

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
 1
Why Do They Shut Me Out of Heaven?

Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –



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