It Might Be Lonelier, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

It Might Be Lonelier

405

It might be lonelier

Without the Loneliness—

I’m so accustomed to my Fate—

Perhaps the Other—Peace—

Would interrupt the Dark—

And crowd the little Room—

Too scant—by Cubits—to contain

The Sacrament—of Him—

I am not used to Hope—

It might intrude upon—

Its sweet parade—blaspheme the place—

Ordained to Suffering—

It might be easier

To fail—with Land in Sight—

Than gain—My Blue Peninsula—

To perish—of Delight—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine

Should you but fail at—Sea—

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

I Know That He Exists

338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.

I Lived on Dread

770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus

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1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different

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860 Absence disembodies—so does Death Hiding individuals from the Earth Superposition helps, as well as lo… Tenderness decreases as we prove—

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Upon Concluded Lives

735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—

On This Wondrous Sea

On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—

The Doomed—regard the Sunrise

294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—

Had I Presumed to Hope

522 Had I presumed to hope— The loss had been to Me A Value—for the Greatness’ Sake— As Giants—gone away—

A Long, Long Sleep, a Famous Sleep

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?

If He were living—dare I ask—

734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—

There comes a warning like a spy

There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away

I think to Live—may be a Bliss

646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—

Emily Dickinson