or enter with: facebook twitter google Forgot your password? | Signup
or enter with: facebook twitter google
Emily dickinson

Emily Dickinson


Part One: Life


THIS is my letter to the world,
    That never wrote to me,—
The simple news that Nature told,
    With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
    To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
    Judge tenderly of me!

Longing is like the Seed
That wrestles in the Ground,
Believing if it intercede
It shall at length be found.

The Hour, and the Clime -
Each Circumstance unknown,
What Constancy must be achieved
Before it see the Sun!

Part Three: Love


SHE rose to his requirement, dropped
The playthings of her life
To take the honorable work
Of woman and of wife.

If aught she missed in her new day
Of amplitude, or awe,
Or first prospective, or the gold
In using wore away,

It lay unmentioned, as the sea
Develops pearl and weed,
But only to himself is known
The fathoms they abide.



Faith’€”is the Pierless Bridge
Supporting what We see
Unto the Scene that We do not’€”
Too slender for the eye

It bears the Soul as bold
As it were rocked in Steel
With Arms of Steel at either side’€”
It joins’€”behind the Veil

To what, could We presume
The Bridge would cease to be
To Our far, vacillating Feet
A first Necessity.


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—'tis Mutual—Risk—
Some—found it—Mutual Gain—
Sweet Debt of Life—Each Night to owe—
Insolvent—every Noon—


If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

A little East of Jordan,
Evangelists record,
A Gymnast and an Angel
Did wrestle long and hard—

Till morning touching mountain—
And Jacob, waxing strong,
The Angel begged permission
To Breakfast—to return—

Not so, said cunning Jacob!
“I will not let thee go
Except thou bless me”—Stranger!
The which acceded to—

Light swung the silver fleeces
“Peniel” Hills beyond,
And the bewildered Gymnast
Found he had worsted God!


The Brain—is wider than the Sky—
For—put them side by side—
The one the other will contain
With ease—and You—beside—

The Brain is deeper than the sea—
For—hold them—Blue to Blue—
The one the other will absorb—
As Sponges—Buckets—do—

The Brain is just the weight of God—
For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—
And they will differ—if they do—
As Syllable from Sound—

Part One: Life


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

Part One: Life


I’M nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!



I cannot dance upon my Toes’€”
No Man instructed me’€”
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

That had I Ballet knowledge’€”
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe’€”
Or lay a Prima, mad,

And though I had no Gown of Gauze’€”
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences’€”like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so’€”

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention’€”easy’€”Here’€”
Nor any Placard boast me’€”
It’s full as Opera’€”


A precious’€”mouldering pleasure’€”'tis’€”
To meet an Antique Book’€”
In just the Dress his Century wore’€”
A privilege’€”I think’€”

His venerable Hand to take’€”
And warming in our own’€”
A passage back’€”or two’€”to make’€”
To Times when he’€”was young’€”

His quaint opinions’€”to inspect’€”
His thought to ascertain
On Themes concern our mutual mind’€”
The Literature of Man’€”

What interested Scholars’€”most’€”
What Competitions ran’€”
When Plato’€”was a Certainty’€”
And Sophocles’€”a Man’€”

When Sappho’€”was a living Girl’€”
And Beatrice wore
The Gown that Dante’€”deified’€”
Facts Centuries before

He traverses’€”familiar’€”
As One should come to Town’€”
And tell you all your Dreams’€”were true’€”
He lived’€”where Dreams were born’€”

His presence is Enchantment’€”
You beg him not to go’€”
Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads
And tantalize’€”just so’€”