This Is my Letter to the World,, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

This Is my Letter to the World,

This is my letter to the world,

That never wrote to me,-

The simple news that Nature told,

With tender majesty

Her message is committed

To hands I cannot see;

For love of her, sweet countrymen,

Judge tenderly of me!

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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This—is the land—the Sunset washes—

266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

I Took my Power in my Hand

540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—

It Was a Grave, Yet Bore No Stone

876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.

The Outer—from the Inner

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

That First Day, When You Praised Me, Sweet

659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—

I pay—in Satin Cash—

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

The Grass So Little Has to Do

The Grass so little has to do— A Sphere of simple Green— With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain— And stir all day to pretty Tunes

You Taught Me Waiting With Myself

740 You taught me Waiting with Myself… Appointment strictly kept’— You taught me fortitude of Fate’— This’—also’—I have learnt’—

The Soul’s Distinct Connection

974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—

To One Denied the Drink

490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?

Life XLIII. I like to see it lap the miles (585)

XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step

A Feather From the Whippoorwill

161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—

Life XXXVI. I never hear the word “escape”

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

Nature LXVII. Presentment is that long shadow on the lawn

LXVII Presentment is that long shadow on… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.

Love XIV. I’m ceded, I ’ve stopped being theirs (508)

XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,

Emily Dickinson