Emily Dickinson

«He touched me, so I live to know | That such a day, Accepted so - | I dwelt - upon his breast - | It was a boundless place to me | And silenced, as the awful Sea | Puts minor streams to rest. | | And now, I'm different from before, | As if I breathed superior air - | Or brushed a Royal Gown - | My feet, too, that had wandered so - | My Gypsy face - transfigured now - | To tenderer Renown - | | Into this Port, if I might come.»

«She sights a Bird - she chuckles - | She flattens - then she crawls - | She runs without the look of feet - | Her eyes increase to Balls - | Her Mouth stirs - longing - hungry - | Her Teeth can hardly stand - | She leaps, but Robin leaped the first - | Ah, Pussy, of the Sand, | | The Hopes so juicy ripening - | You almost bathed your Tongue - | When Bliss disclosed a hundred Wings - | And fled with every one.»

«Her smile was shaped like other smiles - | The Dimples ran along - | And still it hurt you, as some Bird | Did hoist herself, to sing, | Then recollect a Ball, she got - | And hold upon the Twig, | Convulsive, while the Music crashed - | Like Beads - among the Bog.»

«Beauty - be not caused - It Is - | Chase it, and it ceases - | Chase it not, and it abides - | Overtake the Creases | | In the Meadow - when the Wind | Runs his fingers thro' it - | Deity will see to it | That You never do it.»

«Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night | Had scarcely deigned to lie - | When, stirring, for Belief's delight, | My Bride had slipped away - | If 'twas a Dream - made solid - just | The Heaven to confirm - | Or if Myself were dreamed of Her - | The power to presume - | | With Him remain - who unto Me - | Gave - even as to All - | A Fiction superseding Faith - | By so much - as 'twas real.»

«Endow the Living - with the Tears - | You squander on the Dead, | And They were Men and Women - now, | Around Your Fireside - | Instead of Passive Creatures, | Denied the Cherishing | Till They - the Cherishing deny - | With Death's Etherial Scorn.»

«Had I presumed to hope - | The loss had been to Me | A Value - for the Greatness'Sake - | As Giants - gone away - | Had I presumed to gain | A Favor so remote - | The failure but confirm the Grace | In further Infinite - | | 'Tis failure - not of Hope - | But resolute Despair - | Advancing on Celestial Lists - | With faint - Terrestrial power - | | 'Tis Honor - though I die - | For That no Man obtain | Till He be justified by Death - | This - is the Second Gain.»

«La Morte è importante per Colui | che muore, e per il suo amico. | Oltre a questi, ininfluente | per Tutti tranne Dio.»

«At least - to pray - is left - is left - | Oh Jesus - in the Air - | I know not which thy chamber is - | I'm knocking - everywhere - | Thou settest Earthquake in the South - | And Maelstrom, in the Sea - | Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth - | Hast thou no Arm for Me?»

«A still - Volcano - Life - | That flickered in the night - | When it was dark enough to do | Without erasing sight - | A quiet - Earthquake Style - | Too subtle to suspect | By natures this side Naples - | The North cannot detect | | The Solemn - Torrid - Symbol - | The lips that never lie - | Whose hissing Corals part - and shut - | And Cities - ooze away.»

«Of Brussels - it was not - | Of Kidderminster? Nay - | The Winds did buy it of the Woods - | Then - sell it unto me | It was a gentle price - | The poorest - could afford - | It was within the frugal purse | Of Beggar - or of Bird - | | Of small and spicy Breadths - | In hue - a mellow Dun - | Of Sunshine - and of Sere - Composed - | But, principally - of Sun - | | The Wind - unrolled it fast - | And spread it on the Ground - | Upholsterer of the Pines - is He - | Upholsterer - of the Pond.»

«He found my Being - set it up - | Adjusted it to place - | Then carved his name - upon it - | And bade it to the East | Be faithful - in his absence - | And he would come again - | With Equipage of Amber - | That time - to take it Home.»

«The Spider holds a Silver Ball | In unperceived Hands - | And dancing softly as He knits | His Coil of Pearl - unwinds - | He plies from Nought to Nought - | In unsubstantial Trade - | Supplants our Tapestries with His - | In half the period - | | An Hour to rear supreme | His Theories of Light - | Then dangle from the Housewife's Broom - | His Sophistries - forgot.»

«Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? | Not Death - for who is He? | The Porter of my Father's Lodge | As much abasheth me! | Of Life? 'Twere odd I fear a thing | That comprehendeth me | In one or two existences - | Just as the case may be - | | Of Resurrection? Is the East | Afraid to trust the Morn | With her fastidious forehead? | As soon impeach my Crown.»

«Paura! Di chi ho paura? | Non della Morte - perché chi è Costei? | Il Portiere della casa di mio Padre | Allo stesso modo m'intimidisce! | Della Vita? Sarebbe strano ch'io temessi una cosa | Che è parte integrante di me | In una o due esistenze - | A seconda del caso - | | Della Risurrezione? Ha l'Est | Paura di affidare al Mattino | La sua fronte schizzinosa? | Tanto varrebbe ricusare la mia Corona.»

«It would have starved a Gnat - | To live so small as I - | And yet, I was a living child - | With Food's necessity | Upon me - like a Claw - | I could no more remove | Than I could modify a Leech - | Or make a Dragon - move - | | Not like the Gnat - had I - | The privilege to fly | And seek a Dinner for myself - | How mightier He - than I! | | Nor like Himself - the Art | Upon the Window Pane | To gad my little Being out - | And not begin - again -»

«They shut me up in Prose - | As when a little Girl | They put me in the Closet - | Because they liked me "still" - | Still! Could themself have peeped - | And seen my Brain - go round - | They might as wise have lodged a Bird | For Treason - in the Pound - | | Himself has but to will | And easy as a Star | Look down upon Captivity - | And laugh - No more have I.»

«In falling Timbers buried - | There breathed a Man - | Outside - the Spades - were plying - | The Lungs - within - | Could He - know - they sought Him - | Could They - know - He breathed - | Horrid Sand Partition - | Neither - could be heard - | | Never slacked the Diggers - | But when Spades had done - | Oh, Reward of Anguish, | It was dying - Then.»

«Our journey had advanced - | Our feet were almost come | To that odd Fork in Being's Road - | Eternity - by Term - | Our pace took sudden awe - | Our feet - reluctant - led - | Before - were Cities - but Between - | The Forest of the Dead - | | Retreat - was out of Hope - | Behind - a Sealed Route - | Eternity's Cool Flag - in front - | And God - at every Gate.»

«At leisure is the Soul | That gets a Staggering Blow - | The Width of Life - before it spreads | Without a thing to do - | It begs you give it Work - | But just the placing Pins - | Or humblest Patchwork - Children do - | To still it's noisy Hands.»