Gender:
Female
I Never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.
I never spake with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.
Emily Dickinson
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Belshazzar had a letter,—
He never had but one;
Belshazzar’s correspondent
Concluded and begun
In that immortal copy
The conscience of us all
Can read without its glasses
On revelation’s wall. -
Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like water lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I ’ve never... -
Too late
delayed till she had ceased to know,
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay:
An hour behind the fleeting breath,
Later by just an hour than death,—
Oh, lagging yesterday!Could she have guessed that it would be...
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The waking YEAR
A LADY red upon the hill
Her annual secret keeps;
A lady white within the field
In placid lily sleeps!The tidy breezes with their brooms
Sweep vail, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who... -
Choice
of all the souls that stand create
I have elected one.
When sense from spirit files away,
And subterfuge is done;When that which is and that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like... -
Life
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!A BOOK
HE... -
It's such a little thing to weep,
So short a thing to sigh;
And yet by trades the size of these
We men and women die! -
It's all I have to bring today--
This, and my heart beside--
This, and my heart, and all the fields--
And all the meadows wide--
Be sure you count--should I forget
Some one the sum could tell--
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell. -
To lose thee, sweeter than to gain
All other hearts I knew.
‘Tis true the drought is destitute
But, then, I had the dew!
The Caspian has its realms of sand,
Its other realm of sea.
Without this sterile perquisite
No Caspian could be.