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Emily dickinson

Emily Dickinson

POEMS
FOLLOWERS
60

Part Three: Love

                    XXII

I GAVE myself to him,  
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way.  
  
The wealth might disappoint,          
Myself a poorer prove  
Than this great purchaser suspect,  
The daily own of Love  
  
Depreciate the vision;  
But, till the merchant buy,
Still fable, in the isles of spice,  
The subtle cargoes lie.  
  
At least, ’t is mutual risk,—  
Some found it mutual gain;  
Sweet debt of Life,—each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.

It stole along so stealthy
Suspicion it was done
Was dim as to the wealthy
Beginning not to own -

A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—

His Mighty Balls—in death were thick—
But searching—I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water—and of me—

‘Twas not my blame—who sped too slow—
’Twas not his blame—who died
While I was reaching him—
But 'twas—the fact that He was dead—

120

If this is “fading”
Oh let me immediately “fade”!
If this is “dying”
Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is “sleep,”
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!

Part One: Life

             LVI

Faith is a fine invention
For gentlemen who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!

A Coffin—is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.

A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
Yet ampler than the Sun—
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend—
Circumference without Relief—
Or Estimate—or End—

1

VII

WITHIN my reach!
I could have touched!
I might have chanced that way!
Soft sauntered through the village,
Sauntered as soft away!
So unsuspected violets
Within the fields lie low,
Too late for striving fingers
That passed, an hour ago.

284

The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea—
Forgets her own locality—
As I—toward Thee—

She knows herself an incense small—
Yet small—she sighs—if All—is All—
How larger—be?

The Ocean—smiles—at her Conceit—
But she, forgetting Amphitrite—
Pleads—"Me"?

Part One: Life

             XX

ARCTURUS is his other name,—
I ’d rather call him star!
It ’s so unkind of science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A “Savant” passing by
Murmured “Resurgam”—"Centipede"!
“Oh Lord—how frail are we”!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a “class”!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in “Cabinets”—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was “Heaven”
Is “Zenith” now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time’s brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I’m ready for “the worst”—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the “Kingdom of Heaven’s” changed—
I hope the “Children” there Won’t be “new fashioned” when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of “Pearl.”

1

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –

6

6

Frequently the wood are pink—
Frequently are brown.
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.
Oft a head is crested
I was wont to see—
And as oft a cranny
Where it used to be—
And the Earth—they tell me—
On its Axis turned!
Wonderful Rotation!
By but twelve performed!

There is no Silence in the Earth -  so silent
As that endured
Which uttered, would discourage Nature
And haunt the World.