Emily Dickinson

«The Battle fought between the Soul | And No Man - is the One | Of all the Battles prevalent - | By far the Greater One - | No News of it is had abroad - | It's Bodiless Campaign | Establishes, and terminates - | Invisible - Unknown - | | Nor History - record it - | As Legions of a Night | The Sunrise scatters - These endure - | Enact - and dissipate.»

«Like Mighty Foot Lights - burned the Red | At Bases of the Trees - | The far Theatricals of Day | Exhibiting - to These - | 'Twas Universe - that did applaud - | While Chiefest - of the Crowd - | Enabled by his Royal Dress - | Myself distinguished God.»

«There is a pain - so utter - | It swallows Being up - | Then covers the Abyss with Trance - | So Memory can step | Around - across - upon it - | As One within a Swoon - | Goes safely - where an open eye - | Would drop Him - Bone by Bone.»

«As old as Woe - | How old is that? | Some Eighteen thousand years - | As old as Joy | How old is that | They are of equal years - | Together chiefest they are found | But seldom side by side - | From neither of them thò he try | Can Human nature hide.»

«The Lightning is a yellow Fork | From Tables in the sky | By inadvertent fingers dropt | The awful Cutlery | Of mansions never quite disclosed | And never quite concealed | The Apparatus of the Dark | To ignorance revealed.»

«On the World you colored | Morning painted rose - | Idle his Vermillion | Aimless crept the Glows | Over Realms of Orchards | I the Day before | Conquered with the Robin - | Misery - how fair | Till your wrinkled Finger | Shored the Sun away | Midnight's awful Pattern | In the Goods of Day.»

«We like a Hairbreadth 'scape | It tingles in the Mind | Far after Act or Accident | Like paragraphs of Wind | If we had ventured less | The Gale were not so fine | That reaches to our utmost Hair | It's Tentacles divine.»

«There's the Battle of Burgoyne - | Over, every Day, | By the Time that Man and Beast | Put their work away - | "Sunset" sounds majestic - | But that solemn War | Could you comprehend it | You would chastened stare.»

«Nature affects to be sedate | Upon occasion, grand | But let our observation shut | Her practices extend | To Necromancy and the Trades | Obscure to understand | Behold our spacious Citizen | Unto a Juggler turned.»

«A prompt - executive Bird is the Jay - | Bold as a Bailiff's Hymn - | Brittle and Brief in quality - | Warrant in every Line - | Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier | Confident and straight - | Much is the mien of him in March | As a Magistrate.»

«We never know how high we are | Till we are asked to rise | And then if we are true to plan | Our statures touch the skies - | The Heroism we recite | Would be a normal thing | Did not ourselves the Cubits warp | For fear to be a King.»

«Of so divine a Loss | We enter but the Gain, | Indemnity for Loneliness | That such a Bliss has been.»

«My God - He sees thee - | Shine thy best - | Fling up thy Balls of Gold | Till every Cubit play with thee | And every Crescent hold - | Elate the Acre at his feet - | Upon his Atom swim - | Oh Sun - but just a Second's right | In thy long Race with him!»

«When I hoped - I feared - | Since - I hoped - I dared | Everywhere - alone - | As a church - remain - | Ghost - may not alarm - | Serpent - may not charm - | He is King of Harm - | Who hath suffered Him.»

«"Remember me" implored the Thief! | Oh Hospitality! | My Guest "Today in Paradise" | I give thee guaranty. | That Courtesy will fair remain | When the Delight is Dust | With which we cite this mightiest case | Of compensated trust. | | Of all we are allowed to hope | But Affidavit stands | That this was due where most we fear | Be unexpected Friends.»

«A bold, inspiriting Bird | Is the Jay - | Good as a Norseman's Hymn - | Brittle and brief in quality - | Warrant in every line - | Riding a Bough like a Brigadier | Confident and straight - | Good is the look of Him in March | As a Benefit.»

«The Days that we can spare | Are those a Function die | Or Friend Or Nature - stranded then | In our Economy | Our Estimates a Scheme - | Our Ultimates a Sham - | We let go all of Time without | Arithmetic of him.»

«Remembrance has a Rear and Front - | 'Tis something like a House - | It has a Garret also | For Refuse and the Mouse - | Besides the deepest Cellar | That ever Mason laid - | Look to it by it's Fathoms | Ourselves be not pursued.»

«Step lightly on this narrow spot - | The broadest Land that grows | Is not so ample as the Breast | These Emerald Seams enclose. | Step lofty, for this name be told | As far as Cannon dwell | Or Flag subsist or Fame export | Her deathless Syllable.»

«Too few the mornings be, | too scant the nights. | No lodging can be had | for the delights | that come to earth to stay, | but no apartment find | and ride away.»