To hang our head—ostensibly—, par Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

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—

Affords the sly presumption

That in so dense a fuzz—

You—too—take Cobweb attitudes

Upon a plane of Gauze!

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Autres oeuvres par Emily Dickinson...

Teach Him – When He makes the names –

227 Teach Him – When He makes the na… Such an one – to say – On his babbling – Berry – lips – As should sound – to me –

We pray—to Heaven—

489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…

Life XXIII. a Bird Came Down (328)

XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.

I Asked No Other Thing

621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—

Frequently the Wood Are Pink

6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.

But Little Carmine Hath Her Face

558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;

Life XXXII. Hope is the thing with feathers (254)

XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,

Air has no Residence, no Neighbor

Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…

I learned—at least—what Home could be

944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn

Life VIII. a wounded deer leaps highest (165)

VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.

We Cover Thee—Sweet Face

482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—

Under the Light, Yet Under

949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,

Best Things Dwell Out of Sight

998 Best Things dwell out of Sight The Pearl—the Just—Our Thought. Most shun the Public Air Legitimate, and Rare—

I Cross Till I Am Weary

550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then

As Children Bid the Guest “Good Night”

133 As Children bid the Guest “Good… And then reluctant turn— My flowers raise their pretty lips… Then put their nightgowns on.

Emily Dickinson