I Like a Look of Agony, by Emily Dickinson

I Like a Look of Agony

241

I like a look of Agony,

Because I know it’s true—

Men do not sham Convulsion,

Nor simulate, a Throe—

The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death—

Impossible to feign

The Beads upon the Forehead

By homely Anguish strung.

964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—

1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—

176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?

639 My Portion is Defeat—today— A paler luck than Victory— Less Paeans—fewer Bells— The Drums don’t follow Me—with tu…

He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance

XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.

610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.

131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,

XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.

242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—

High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly

788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—

752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance

22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—