Me to, I was imagine the moth of Amherst going from window to window dressed in white peering out at the world when I read it.
#1751
There comes an hour when begging stops,
When the long interceding lips
Perceive their prayer is vain.
"Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword
Than from a disappointing God
"Disciple call again."
919
If I can stop one Heart for breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one in Pain
Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain
c. 1964
1252
Like Blooms of Steel
The Snow and Wind
Had Swept the Winter Street-
The House was hooked
The sun sent out
Faint Deputies of Heat-
Where rode the Bird
The Silence tied
His ample - plodding Steed
The Apple in the Cellar snug
Was all the one that played.
c. 1873
Hi Joanne! Is anybody else out there?
here's another one:
#1233
Had I not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade
But Light a newer Wilderness
My Wilderness has made -
Just us I guess jjorge. How far is Amherst from the Boston area?
36
Snow Flakes.
I counted till they danced so
Thier slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!
c. 1858
Joanne
It's about a 2 hr drive.
Well now even more incentive to visit Boston.
1450
The Road was lit with Moon and star-
The Trees were bright and still-
Descried I - by the distant Light
A Traveller on a Hill-
To magic Perpendiculars
Ascernding through Terrene-
Unknown his shimmering ultimate-
But he indorsed the sheen-
c. 1878
#1123
A great hope fell
You heard no noise
The Ruin was within
Oh cunning wreck that told no tale
And let no Witness in
The mind was built for mighty Freight
For dread occasion planned
How often foundering at Sea
Ostensibly, on Land
A not admitting of the wound
Until it grew so wide
That all my life had entered it
And there were troughs beside
A closing of the simple lid
That opened to the sun
Until the tender Carpenter
Perpetual nail it down -
(Emily Dickinson c.1868)
1121
Time does go on-
Itell it gay to those who suffer now-
They shall survive-
There is a Sun-
They don't believe it now-
c. 1868
In Memorium
Jo-Ann Ravenscroft b. 12-10-1946 d. 11-16-1994
Emily Dickinson b. 12-10-1830 d. 5-15-1886
113
Our share of night to bear -
Our share of morning
Our blank in bliss to fill -
Our blank in scorning -
Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way!
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards - Day!
(Emily Dickinson)
1680
Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few--love at all.
c. ? Edited 1925
1212
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say,
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
c. 1872?
Am I kin to sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door --
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed --
Under Sorrow's hand.
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow--
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to sorrow?
Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door--
Oh, come in!
EStVM
Here is one of my favorite ED poems. I find the courage, the stoicism it describes quite moving.
#419
We grow accustomed to the Dark --
When light is put away --
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye --
A Moment -- We uncertain step
For newness of the night --
Then -- fit our Vision to the Dark --
And meet the Road -- erect --
And so of larger -- Darknesses --
Those Evenings of the Brain --
When not a Moon disclose a sign --
Or Star -- come out -- within --
The Bravest -- grope a little --
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead --
But as they learn to see --
Either the Darkness alters --
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight --
And Life steps almost straight.
( ED )
And another which I dearly love, particularly the final line.
The Grass divides as with a Comb --
A spotted shaft is seen --
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on --
He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn --
Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot --
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled, and was gone --
Several of Nature's People
I know, and they know me --
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality --
But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Without a tighter breathing
And Zero at the Bone --
1555
I groped for him before I knew
With solemn nameless need
All other bounty sudden chaff
For this foreshadowed Food
Which other taste and spurn and sneer --
Though I within suppose
That consercrated it could be
The only Food that grows
c. 1882
<I've GOT to read up.....>
littlek wrote:<I've GOT to read up.....>
littleK
You might find this earlier thread to be interesting. It contains a number of ED's better poems and conversation about them (and her) as well.
http://nytimes.abuzz.com/interaction/s.217163/discussion
-jjorge
