When Diamonds Are a Legend, by Emily Dickinson

When Diamonds Are a Legend

397

When Diamonds are a Legend,

And Diadems—a Tale—

I Brooch and Earrings for Myself,

Do sow, and Raise for sale—

And tho’ I’m scarce accounted,

My Art, a Summer Day—had Patrons—

Once—it was a Queen—

And once—a Butterfly—

897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?

Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest

869 Because the Bee may blameless hum For Thee a Bee do I become List even unto Me. Because the Flowers unafraid

29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—

Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,

244 It is easy to work when the soul i… But when the soul is in pain— The hearing him put his playthings… Makes work difficult—then—

442 God made a little Gentian— It tried—to be a Rose— And failed—and all the Summer lau… But just before the Snows

810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.

A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—

Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet

98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!

Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!

438 Forget! The lady with the Amulet Forget she wore it at her Heart Because she breathed against Was Treason twixt?

348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —