Read—Sweet—how others—strove—, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Read—Sweet—how others—strove—

260

Read—Sweet—how others—strove—

Till we—are stouter—

What they—renounced—

Till we—are less afraid—

How many times they—bore the faithful witness—

Till we—are helped—

As if a Kingdom—cared!

Read then—of faith—

That shone above the fagot—

Clear strains of Hymn

The River could not drown—

Brave names of Men—

And Celestial Women—

Passed out—of Record

Into—Renown!

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Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...

Fame of Myself, to Justify

713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—

Who Never Lost, Are Unprepared

73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!

The Heart Has Narrow Banks

928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony

Judgment is justest

Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.

His Heart Was Darker Than the Starless Night

His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn

87 a darting fear—a pomp—a tear

A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.

I Could Suffice for Him, I Knew

643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—

Conjecturing a Climate

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

My Faith Is Larger Than the Hills

766 My Faith is larger than the Hills… So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wh… To show the Sun the way—

There Is Another Sky

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Life XXI. He ate and drank the precious words (1587)

XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.

The Robin for the Crumb

864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.

Life – Epigram

Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.

Glory is that bright tragic thing

Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,

The Mountain Sat Upon the Plain

975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—

Emily Dickinson