The smouldering embers blush--
Oh Hearts within the Coal
Hast though survived so many years?
The smouldering embers smile--
Soft Stirs the news of Light
The stolid seconds glow
One requisite has Fire that lasts
Prometheus never knew--
I don't think you've posted this one Joanne (I hope)
PROUD of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
I heard on the radio today that although it has been widely understood that there is only ONE photo of E Dickenson, a man found more. The photo(s) has been analyzed a couple different ways, but the results are still not conclusive.
Thanks Piffka, as usual you are too kind . . .Hey wait a minute! You're rolling your eyes!!
Wow that IS news . . . you can believe I'll be following that story.
Wouldn't it be great to see another picture of my patron saint, my heroine, The Divine Miss Em''!
jjorge - it was on NPR I believe or WBUR. Maybe you can find more info at one of those websites?
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible.
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
Hey y'all. I just a bought a huge copy of ED's writing...... I've not even started looking through it yet.
What's the name of the book? Tell us what you think when you read some of it.
I have: "The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson" ed. Thomas H. Johnson
I MANY times thought peace had come,
When peace was far away;
As wrecked men deem they sight the land
At centre of the sea,
And struggle slacker, but to prove,
As hopelessly as I,
How many the fictitious shores
Before the harbor lie.
An honest Tear
Is durabler than Bronze--
May each that dies--
Reared by itself--
No Deputy suffice--
When Obelisk decays
Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze--
A few incisive Mornings--
A few Ascetic Eves--
Gone-Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"--
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."
Stilll, is the bustle in the Brook--
Sealed are the spicy valves--
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves--
Perhaps a squirredl may remain--
My sentiments to share--
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind--
The windy will to bear!
I HATE EMILY DICKINSON. I HAVE NEVER READ SUCH CRAP POETRY IN MY LIFE. CHEKKY WRITES GREAT POETRY. MAYBE I WILL POST SOME ONE DAY. SEE YOU ALL SOON... SOONER THAN YOU MAY THINK... TIHIHIHI
I would like to whole-heartedly apologise for my previous remark. I was high on magic mushrooms at the time. Now the effects have worn off.
I have been pondering an ED problem for a while now. Does anyone know who the speaker in poem #303 is? i have many theories of my own, but do not want to rush to a conclusion. any help would be hugely... laughed at
If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome-
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?
This is my favorite ED verse. the penultimate in #175. It melts my soul just to hear these words read out loud...