Suspense – is Hostiler than Death –, by Emily Dickinson | poems, essays, and short stories in Poeticous

Suspense – is Hostiler than Death –

705

Suspense—is Hostiler than Death—

Death—tho’soever Broad,

Is just Death, and cannot increase—

Suspense—does not conclude –

But perishes—to live anew—

But just anew to die—

Annihilation—plated fresh

With Immortality—

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,

758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—

321 Of all the Sounds despatched abro… There’s not a Charge to me Like that old measure in the Boug… That phraseless Melody—

A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin

197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!

822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone

785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—

LXII BEFORE I got my eye put out, I liked as well to see As other creatures that have eyes, And know no other way.

733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—

LXV GOOD night! which put the candle… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick

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

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—

I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove

702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—