If Those I Loved Were Lost, par Emily Dickinson

If Those I Loved Were Lost

If those I loved were lost

The Crier’s voice would tell me—

If those I loved were found

The bells of Ghent would ring—

Did those I loved repose

The Daisy would impel me.

Philip—when bewildered

Bore his riddle in!

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467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

A Sickness of this World it most… When Best Men die. A Wishfulness their far Condition To occupy. A Chief indifference, as Foreign

627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always

562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns

195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—

350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—

532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—

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—

It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,

Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling

541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—

699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—

839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation

The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…