Emily Dickinson
poetessa statunitense
«I could not prove the Years had feet - | Yet confident they run | Am I, from symptoms that are past | And Series that are done - | I find my feet have further Goals - | I smile upon the Aims | That felt so ample - Yesterday - | Today's - have vaster claims - | | I do not doubt the Self I was | Was competent to me - | But something awkward in the fit - | Proves that - outgrown - I see.»
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«Banish Air from Air - | Divide Light if you dare - | They'll meet | While Cubes in a Drop | Or Pellets of Shape | Fit - | Films cannot annul | Odors return whole | Force Flame | And with a Blonde push | Over your impotence | Flits Steam.»
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«To own the Art within the Soul | The Soul to entertain | With Silence as a Company | And Festival maintain | Is an unfurnished Circumstance | Possession is to One | As an Estate perpetual | Or a reduceless Mine.»
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«There is a finished feeling | Experienced at Graves - | A leisure of the Future - | A Wilderness of Size. | By Death's bold Exhibition | Preciser what we are | And the Eternal function | Enabled to infer.»
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«What did They do since I saw Them? | Were They industrious? | So many questions to put Them | Have I the Eagerness | That could I snatch Their Faces | That could Their lips reply | Not till the last was answered | Should They start for the Sky - | | Not if the Just suspect Me | And offer a Reward | Would I restore my Booty | To that Bold Person, God, | | Not if Their Party were waiting, | Not if to talk with Me | Were to Them now, Homesickness | After Eternity.»
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«Through what transports of Patience | I reached the stolid Bliss | To breathe my Blank without thee | Attest me this and this - | By that bleak exultation | I won as near as this | Thy privilege of dying | Abbreviate me this.»
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«A full fed Rose on meals of Tint | A Dinner for a Bee | In process of the Noon became - | Each bright mortality | The Forfeit is of Creature fair | Itself, adored before | Submitting for our unknown sake | To be esteemed no more.»
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«Some Days retired from the rest | In soft distinction lie | The Day that a Companion came | Or was obliged to die.»
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«Best Witchcraft is Geometry | To the magician's mind - | His ordinary acts are feats | To thinking of mankind.»
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«Great Streets of silence led away | To Neighborhoods of Pause - | Here was no Notice - no Dissent | No Universe - no Laws - | By Clocks, 'twas Morning, and for Night | The Bells at Distance called - | But Epoch had no basis here | For Period exhaled.»
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«He is alive, this morning - | He is alive - and awake - | Birds are resuming for Him - | Blossoms - dress for His sake - | Bees - to their Loaves of Honey | Add an Amber Crumb | Him - to regale - Me - Only - | Motion, and am dumb.»
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«God made no act without a cause - | nor heart without an aim - | Our inference is premature, | our premises to blame.»
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«The Life we have is very great. | The Life that we shall see | Surpasses it, we know, because | It is Infinity. | But when all Space has been beheld | And all Dominion shown | The smallest Human Heart's extent | Reduces it to none.»
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«Contained in this short Life | Are magical extents | The soul returning soft at night | To steal securer thence | As Children strictest kept | Turn soonest to the sea | Whose nameless Fathoms slink away | Beside infinity.»
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«Of Paul and Silas it is said | There were in Prison laid | But when they went to take them out | They were not there instead. | Security the same insures | To our assaulted minds - | The staple must be optional | That an Immortal binds.»
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«Summer laid her simple Hat | On it's boundless shelf - | Unobserved - a Ribin slipt | Fasten it yourself. | Summer laid her supple Glove | In it's sylvan Drawer - | Wheresoe'er - as was she - | The Affair of Awe.»
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«"Tomorrow" - whose location | The Wise deceives | Though it's hallucination | Is last that leaves - | Tomorrow, thou Retriever | Of every tare - | Of Alibi art thou | Or ownest where?»
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«How know it from a Summer's Day? | It's Fervors are as firm - | And nothing in the Countenance | But scintillates the same - | Yet Birds examine it and flee - | And Vans without a name | Inspect the Admonition | And sunder as they came.»
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«Were it to be the last | How infinite would be | What we did not suspect was marked | Our final interview.»
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«Love's stricken "why" | Is all that love can speak - | Built of but just a syllable, | The hugest hearts that break.»
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