A Counterfeit– a Plated Person –, by Emily Dickinson

A Counterfeit– a Plated Person –

I would not be -

Whatever strata of Iniquity

My Nature underlie -

Truth is good Health - and Safety, and the Sky.

How meagre, what an Exile - is a Lie,

And Vocal– when we die –

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Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—

430 It would never be Common—more—I s… Difference—had begun— Many a bitterness—had been— But that old sort—was done—

A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,

1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed

1545 The Bible is an antique Volume— Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectre… Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;

899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.

673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…

LXXXII THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—

75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn

835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.

49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!

We grow accustomed to the Dark - When light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the La… To witness her Goodbye - A Moment - We uncertain step