September’s Baccalaureate, by Emily Dickinson

September’s Baccalaureate

A combination is

Of Crickets– Crows– and Retrospects

And a dissembling Breeze

That hints without assuming -

An Innuendo sear

That makes the Heart put up its Fun

And turn Philosopher.

Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.

621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—

694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—

Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

336 The face I carry with me—last— When I go out of Time— To take my Rank—by—in the West— That face—will just be thine—

806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when

592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning

394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—

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—

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

922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

606 The Trees like Tassels—hit—and sw… There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun—

519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.

100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold

803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—