Whose Cheek Is This?, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Whose Cheek Is This?

Whose cheek is this?

What rosy face

Has lost a blush today?

I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods

And bore her safe away.

Robins, in the tradition

Did cover such with leaves,

But which the cheek—

And which the pall

My scrutiny deceives.

#AmericanWriters

Preferido o celebrado por...

Otras obras de Emily Dickinson...

There is no Silence in the Earth

There is no Silence in the Earth… As that endured Which uttered, would discourage N… And haunt the World.

I Died for Beauty

I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…

Wert Thou but ill—that I might show thee

961 Wert Thou but ill—that I might sh… How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on… Nor the least signal, Me assure—

It Ceased to Hurt Me, Though So Slow

584 It ceased to hurt me, though so sl… I could not feel the Anguish go— But only knew by looking back— That something—had benumbed the T…

Me prove it now—Whoever doubt

537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—

An Everywhere of Silver

An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.

I Often Passed the Village

51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—

You’ll know it—as you know ’tis Noon—

420 You’ll know it—as you know ’tis N… By Glory— As you do the Sun— By Glory—

The Last Night That She Lived

1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different

’Twas Love’not Me

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

How Lonesome the Wind Must Feel Nights

How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…

Promise This—When You be Dying—

648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—

Dust Is the Only Secret

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

I Fear a Man of Frugal Speech

543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—

Life XXXIII. Dare you see a soul at the white heat?

XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore

Emily Dickinson