The Sea of Sunset
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea ;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery !
Night after night her purple traffic
Strews the landing with opal bales ;
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
-
There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
-
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
-
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
All poems by Emily Dickinson →