‘Twould ease—a Butterfly, di Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

‘Twould ease—a Butterfly

682

‘Twould ease—a Butterfly—

Elate—a Bee—

Thou’rt neither—

Neither—thy capacity—

But, Blossom, were I,

I would rather be

Thy moment

Than a Bee’s Eternity—

Content of fading

Is enough for me—

Fade I unto Divinity—

And Dying—Lifetime—

Ample as the Eye—

Her least attention raise on me—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

Ti è piaciuta questa lettura? Offriteci un caffè!.
Il tuo aiuto ci permette di esistere.

Piaciuto o affrontato da...

Altre opere di Emily Dickinson...

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—

Life CXXVI. The brain is wider than the sky (632)

THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—

The Doomed—regard the Sunrise

294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—

Nature LXXXII. There’s a certain slant of light (258)

LXXXII THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

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

Whose Are the Little Beds, I Asked

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

Crumbling Is Not an Instant’s Act

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

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.

The Soul Has Bandaged Moments

512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—

“Nature” Is What We See

668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—

As by the Dead We Love to Sit

88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—

The Railway Train

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

Except to Heaven, She Is Nought

154 Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels—lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown.

’Tis true—They shut me in the Cold—

538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—

Of Being Is a Bird

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

Emily Dickinson