It Was Too Late for Man, by Emily Dickinson

It Was Too Late for Man

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It was too late for Man—

But early, yet, for God—

Creation—impotent to help—

But Prayer—remained—Our Side—

How excellent the Heaven—

When Earth—cannot be had—

How hospitable—then—the face

Of our Old Neighbor—God—

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I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next

XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

Like trains of cars on tracks of p… I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault

LV I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills

The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,

940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—

142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.

786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—

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

I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields

Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—

870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”

28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—

451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—