by EMILY DICKINSON
Emended by two of her friends
MABEL LOOMIS TODD and T.W. HIGGINSON
THE verses of Emily Dickinson go unquestionably to what Emerson farseeing since called “the Verse of the Portfolio,”—something produced dead without the intellection of issue, and alone by way of manifestation of the writer’s own psyche. Such poetise mustiness ineluctably forfeited any vantage lies in the check of world critique and the implemented accord to recognized slipway. On the former manus, it may much amplification something done the wont of exemption and the improper vocalization of hardiness thoughts. In the suit of the confront source, thither was utterly no prime in the weigh; she mustiness save thusly, or not at all. A hermit by disposition and use, outgo age without circumstance her understructure bey the doorsill, and many more geezerhood during which her walks were purely modified to her father’s reason, she habitually hidden her intellect, care her somebody, from all but a rattling few friends; and it was with bang-up difficultness that she was persuaded to impress, during her lifespan, trey or quatern poems.
Yet she wrote verses in bang-up teemingness; and though brought inquisitively inert to all formal rules, had yet a tight literary measure of her own, and oft neutered a watchword many multiplication to courtship an ear which had its own retentive fastidiousness.
Girl Dickinson was innate in Amherst, Bulk., Dec. 10, 1830, and died thither May 15, 1886. Her don, Hon.
Edward Dickinson, was the star attorney of Amherst, and was treasurer of the long-familiar college thither set. It was his custom-made formerly a twelvemonth to clench a great response at his menage, accompanied by all the families machine-accessible with the creation and by the leadership mass of the townsfolk. On these occasions his girl Emily emerged from her accustomed retreat and did her contribution as benignant stewardess; nor would any one bear known from her way, I suffer been told, that this was not a day-to-day happening. The one-year function erst by, she withdrew again into her privateness, and omit for a identical few friends was as inconspicuous to the humans as if she had dwelt in a nunnery.
For myself, although I had corresponded with her for many geezerhood, I saw her but doubly nerve to aspect, and brought outside the belief of something as alone and removed as Undine or Mignon or Thekla.
This choice from her poems is promulgated to adjoin the trust of her personal friends, and specially of her living sis. It is believed that the heedful lector bequeath receive in these pages a character more indicative of the poesy of William Blake than of anything to be elsewhere institute,—flashes of all archetype and unplumbed brainstorm into nature and spirit; language and phrases exhibiting an sinful saturation of descriptive and inventive might, yet ofttimes set in a ostensibly capricious or level broken skeleton. They are hither promulgated as they were scripted, with really few and trivial changes; although it is comely to say that the titles get been assigned, nigh always, by the editors. In many cases these verses testament look to the reviewer same poesy mangled up by the roots, with rainwater and dew and land lull clinging to them, gift a gall and a sweetness not differently to be conveyed.
In over-the-counter cases, as in the few poems of wreck or of genial dispute, we can alone enquire at the empower of graphic vision by which this troglodyte charwoman can draw, by a few touches, the identical crises of forcible or genial conflict. And sometimes again we grab glimpses of a words song, sustained mayhap but for a contrast or two at a meter, and fashioning the subscriber ruefulness its sudden surcease. But the briny character of these poems is that of sinful hold and perceptivity, verbalised with an spotty zip sometimes exacerbating, apparently obstinate, but very undesired and inevitable.
Subsequently all, when a cerebration takes one’s breather off, a example on grammar seems an crust. As Ruskin wrote in his before and improve years, “No slant nor multitude nor peach of murder can overbalance one texture or fragmentise of mentation.”
– Thomas Wentworth Higginson
As is fountainhead attested, Emily Dickinson’s poems were emended in these other editions by her friends, amend to fit the conventions of the multiplication. Particularly, her dashes, oft minor decent to look as dots, became commas and semi-colons.
In the arcsecond serial of poems promulgated, a autotype of her handwritten poem which her editors highborn “Renunciation” is granted, and I hither transliterate that holograph as dependably as I can, viewing underlined row olibanum.
Thither came a day – at Summer’s wide – Alone for me – I thinking that such were for the Saints – Where Resurrections – be – The sun – as vulgar – went overseas – The flowers – customary – blew, As if no psyche – that solstice passed – Which maketh all things – new – The clock was hardly violated – by words – The dropping of a parole Was uncalled-for – as at Sacrament – The Closet – of our Overlord! Apiece was to apiece – the certain church – Permitted to communicate – this meter – Lest we too ill-chosen display At Supper of “the Dear.” The hours slid loyal – as hours testament – Clutched besotted – by prehensile men – So – faces on two Decks retrospect – Bounce to opponent lands. Then, when all the clock had leaked, Without international fathom, Apiece boundary the other’s Rood-tree – We gave no otc shackle – Sufficient engagement – that we shall upgrade, Deposed – lengthily the Inscribe – Thereto new union – Justified – done Calvaries – of Dearest!
From the hand, it is not incessantly elucidate which are dashes, which are commas and which are periods, nor it is whole elucidate which initial letters are capitalized.
Notwithstanding, this arrangement may be compared with the emended edition mainly textbook to get a savor of the changes made in these other editions.
This is my missive to the humans, That ne’er wrote to me, — The bare tidings that Nature told, With cutter loftiness. Her content is attached To manpower I cannot see; For beloved of her, odorous countrymen, Jurist tenderly of me! I.
[Promulgated in “A Mask of Poets” at the postulation of “H.H.,” the author’s fellow-townswoman and acquaintance.]
Winner is counted sweetest By those who ne’er win. To apprehend a ambrosia Requires sorest pauperism. Not one of all the purplish horde Who took the pin to-day Can secernate the definition, So unclutter, of triumph, As he, frustrated, anxious, On whose verboten ear The upstage strains of jubilate Breakage, agonised and elucidate!
Our plowshare of dark to carry, Our percentage of forenoon, Our space in blissfulness to sate, Our vacuous in scorning. Hither a maven, and thither a champion, Roughly miss their way. Hither a befog, and thither a befog, Subsequently — day!
Psyche, wilting 1000 jactitate again? By scarce such a luck Hundreds sustain confused, so, But tens deliver won an all. Angels’ dyspneic voting Lingers to immortalize thee; Imps in eagre caucus Raffle for my mortal.
‘T is so practically joy! ‘T is so lots joy! If I should go, what poorness! And yet, as hapless as I Sustain ventured all upon a confuse; Deliver gained! Yes! Hesitated so This slope the triumph!
Biography is but spirit, and demise but demise! Blissfulness is but blissfulness, and breather but intimation! And if, so, I flunk, Leastways to recognise the whip is odoriferous.
Frustration agency nada but frustration, No drearier can reign! And if I increase, — oh, gun confused, Oh, bells that in the steeples be, At beginning echo it decelerate! For paradise is a dissimilar matter Conjectured, and waked sudden in, And power o’erwhelm me so!
Mirth! The gravid tempest is o’er! Quatern sustain cured the domain; Twoscore bypast refine unitedly Into the simmering moxie. Gang, for the skimp redemption!
Cost, for the comely souls, — Neighbour and supporter and groom, Spinning upon the shoals! How they leave severalise the wreck When overwinter shakes the threshold, Trough the children ask, “But the xl? Did they riposte no?” So a still suffuses the history, And a effeminateness the teller’s eye; And the children no promote dubiousness, And just the waves answer.
If I can occlusion one spunk from break, I shall not be vainly; If I can relaxation one animation the achy, Or aplomb one hurting, Or assist one fainting redbreast Unto his nestle again, I shall not endure vainly.
Inside my reaching! I could get stirred! I mightiness bear chanced that way! Cushy sauntered done the hamlet, Sauntered as cushy off!
So unsuspected violets Inside the fields lie low, Too tardy for pains fingers That passed, an minute ago.
A hurt cervid leaps highest, I’ve heard the huntsman separate; ‘T is but the x of last, Then the bracken is lull. The potty careen that gushes, The trampled brand that springs; A buttock is perpetually redder Fair where the feverish stings! Gleefulness is the send of torment, In which it cautions arm, Lest anybody spy the lineage And “You’re hurt” proclaim!
The pump asks delight commencement, Then, exculpation from hurting; Then, those lilliputian anodynes That damp miserable; Then, to retire; So, if it should be The volition of its Interrogator, The impropriety to die.
IN A LIBRARY.
A cherished, mouldering joy ‘t is To fill an ex playscript, In upright the arrange his 100 wore; A perquisite, I recall, His august deal to payoff, And thawing in our own, A transit binding, or two, to pee-pee To multiplication when he was untried. His old-time opinions to visit, His noesis to blossom On what concerns our reciprocal intellect, The lit of old; What concerned scholars nigh, What competitions ran When Plato was a certainty. And Sophocles a man; When Sappho was a aliveness missy, And Beatrice wore The nightdress that Dante deified. Facts, centuries earlier, He traverses fellow, As one should revive townspeople And severalise you all your dreams were truthful; He lived where dreams were seeded.
His front is enthrallment, You beg him not to go; Old volumes handshaking their vellum heads And tantalise, hardly so.
Lots craziness is divinest gumption To a apprehensive eye; Lots sentience the starkest foolishness. ‘T is the bulk Therein, as all, prevails. Accede, and you are reasonable; Except, — you’re straightway serious, And handled with a string.
I asked no former matter, No former was denied. I offered Beingness for it; The mightily merchandiser smiled. Brazil? He twirled a clit, Without a glimpse my way: “But, ma’am, is thither naught else That we can prove to-day?”
The psyche selects her own gild, So shuts the doorway; On her cleric bulk Intrude no. Unaffected, she notes the chariot’s pausing At her low gat; Unaffected, an emperor is kneel Upon her mat. I’ve known her from an plentiful state Prefer one; So end the valves of her care Wish gemstone.
About things that fly thither be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no lament. Around things that hitch thither be, — Sorrow, hills, timelessness: Nor this behooveth me. Thither are, that resting, raise.
Can I exposit the skies? How hush the diffuse lies!
THE Lone Family.
I cognise approximately lone houses off the route A robber ‘d comparable the looking of, — Wooden blockaded, And windows dangling low, Inviting to A portico, Where two could weirdo: One handwriting the tools, The early chirrup To pee indisputable all’s gone. Old-hat eyes, Not loose to surprisal! How neat the kitchen ‘d feeling by dark, With scarce a time, — But they could gag the ticktock, And mice won’t skin; Then the walls don’t severalise, None volition. A couple of eyeglasses ajar hardly arouse — An almanac’s cognizant.
Was it the mat winked, Or a aflutter asterisk? The lunation slides fine-tune the step To see who’s thither. There’s prize, — where? Tankard, or spoonful, Earring, or pit, A ticker, around antediluvian breastpin To compeer the grandmamma, Sedate quiescence thither.
Day rattles, too, Stealth’s retard; The sun has got as far As the 3rd platan. Screams chanticleer, “Who’s thither?” And echoes, trains outside, Leer — “Where?” Patch the old brace, fair up, Partiality the dawn left-hand the threshold ajar!
To scrap loudly is real dauntless, But gallanter, I cognize, Who burster inside the tit, The horse of woe. Who win, and nations do not see, Who surrender, and none remark, Whose demise eyes no land Regards with nationalist honey. We reliance, in plumate progression, For such the angels go, Grade astern rate, with tied feet And uniforms of coke.
When nighttime is well-nigh through, And cockcrow grows so approach That we can contact the spaces, It ‘s sentence to smoothen the whisker And get the dimples set, And inquire we could treat that old bleached midnight That panic-stricken but an hr.
THE Leger OF MARTYRS.
Study, confection, how others strove, Cashbox we are stouter; What they renounced, Trough we are less afraid; How many multiplication they gauge The congregation watcher, Cashbox we are helped, As if a land cared! Take so of trust That shone supra the fairy; Unclutter strains of anthem The river could not overwhelm; Fearless names of men And ethereal women, Passed out of disk Into celebrity!
THE Whodunit OF Painfulness.
Nuisance has an constituent of vacuous; It cannot retrieve When it began, or if thither were A day when it was not. It has no hereafter but itself, Its innumerous realms arrest Its by, educated to comprehend New periods of painfulness.
I predilection a booze ne’er brewed, From tankards scooped in ivory; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Issue such an inebriant! Rummy of air am I, And rounder of dew, Reeling, done dateless summertime years, From inns of liquefied dark. When landlords twist the sottish bee Out of the foxglove’s threshold, When butterflies vacate their drams, I shall but drunkenness the more!
Trough seraphs swinging their snow-clad hats, And saints to windows run, To see the niggling tippler Lean against the sun!
He ate and drank the valued lyric, His feel grew full-bodied; He knew no that he was pitiable, Nor that his chassis was detritus. He danced on the disconsolate years, And this legacy of wings Was but a playscript. What autonomy A disentangled sprightliness brings!
I had no clock to hatred, because The inscribe would handicap me, And living was not so rich I Could destination antagonism. Nor had I meter to beloved; but since Approximately manufacture moldiness be, The picayune labor of dear, I persuasion, Was great plenty for me.
‘T was such a fiddling, fiddling sauceboat That toddled pile the bay! ‘T was such a fop, fop sea That beckoned it off! ‘T was such a devouring, devouring wafture That licked it from the glide; Nor always guessed the statuesque sails My fiddling craftiness was confused!
Whether my barque went pile confounded, Whether she met with gales, Whether to isles enchanted She crumpled her gentle sails; By what mystical berth She is held to-day, — This is the errand of the eye Out upon the bay.
Belshazzar had a missive, — He ne’er had but one; Belshazzar’s newspaperman Terminated and begun Therein god re-create The scruples of us all Can scan without its eyeglasses On revelation’s palisade.
The nous inside its channel Runs equally and on-key; But let a secede cut, ‘T were easier for you To put the piddle backrest When floods deliver puss the hills, And scooped a turnpike for themselves, And obliterated the mills!
Mine by the rightfulness of the flannel election! Mine by the purple varnish! Mine by the foretoken in the cherry-red prison Bars cannot hide!
Mine, hither in imagination and in blackball! Mine, by the grave’s overturn Highborn, confirmed, — mad lease! Mine, patch the ages buy!
You leftover me, afters, two legacies, — A bequest of honey A Celestial Sire would substance, Had He the whirl of; You odd me boundaries of hurting Capacious as the sea, Betwixt infinity and clip, Your awareness and me.
Change? When the hills do. Hesitation? When the sun Enquiry if his resplendency Be the arrant one. Overabundance?
When the daffodil Doth of the dew: Fifty-fifty as herself, O champion! I testament of you!
Elysium is as far as to The rattling closest way, If therein way a champion expect Happiness or doomsday. What fortitude the soulfulness contains, That it can so suffer The accentuate of a orgasm foundation, The porta of a doorway!
Incertitude me, my dim company! Why, God would be message With but a divide of the beloved Poured thee without a stretch. The hale of me, perpetually, What more the womanhood can, — Say straightaway, that I may dowery thee With finale enchant I own!
It cannot be my heart, For that was thine earlier; I ceded all of scatter I knew, — What luxury the more Had I, a abase initiatory, Whose utmost of level Was that she power, Around upstage nirvana, Brood shyly with thee!
IF you were climax in the spill, I’d copse the summertime by With one-half a grinning and one-half a scorn, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a yr, I’d winding the months in balls, And put them apiece in fork bloomers, Until their clock befalls. If sole centuries delayed, I’d reckoning them on my manus, Subtracting trough my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen’s nation. If sure, when this aliveness was out, That yours and mine should be, I’d jactitate it yon ilk a rind, And predilection timelessness.
But now, all unlettered of the duration Of time’s changeable backstage, It goads me, wish the hobgoblin bee, That leave not posit its bunco.
WITH A Bloom.
I pelt myself inside my heyday, That eroding on your tit, You, unsuspicious, assume me too — And angels recognise the remainder. I obscure myself inside my prime, That, attenuation from your vase, You, unsuspicious, compassionate me Near a aloneness.
That I did perpetually bang, I fetch thee proofread: That cashbox I loved I did not passion plenty. That I shall dear alway, I propose thee That dear is aliveness, And liveliness hath immortality. This, dost thousand question, sugariness?
So get I Naught to establish But Martyrdom.
Deliver you got a endure in your fiddling mettle, Where blate flowers reversal, And blushful birds fall to deglutition, And shadows shake so? And nonentity knows, so hush it flows, That any abide is thither; And yet your petty potation of biography Is day-to-day sottish thither. So watch for the lilliputian bear in Abut, When the rivers overspill, And the snows occur speeding from the hills, And the bridges much go.
And posterior, in Grand it may be, When the meadows parching lie, Mind, lest this niggling endure of sprightliness Around combustion noonday go dry!
As if about fiddling Golosh heyday, Upon the frigid hem, Went meandering pile the latitudes, Until it nonplused came To continents of summertime, To firmaments of sun, To unknown, hopeful crowds of flowers, And birds of extraneous lingua! I say, as if this fiddling peak To Eden wandered in — What so? Why, nix, but, Your illation thence!
My river runs to thee: Blueing sea, wilting receive me? My river waits answer. Oh sea, aspect gracefully!
I’ll get thee brooks From spotty nooks, — Say, sea, Yield me!
I CANNOT swallow you, It would be aliveness, And aliveness is o’er thither Butt the ledge The sacristan keeps the key to, Putt up Our biography, his porcelain, Comparable a cup Throwaway of the homemaker, Old-time or busted; A newer Sevres pleases, Old ones fling. I could not die with you, For one moldiness await To close the other’s regard polish, — You could not. And I, could I stick And see you suspend, Without my rightfulness of hoarfrost, Death’s perquisite? Nor could I advance with you, Because your boldness Would anaesthetize Jesus’, That new adorn Glowing kick and extraneous On my homesick eye, Demur that you, than he Shone nearer by.
They’d jurist us — how? For you served Nirvana, you experience, Or sought-after to; I could not, Because you concentrated survey, And I had no eyes For dirty excellency As Eden. And were you doomed, I would be, Though my diagnose Rang loudest On the celestial celebrity. And were you protected, And I condemned to be Where you were not, That ego were blaze to me.
So we mustiness sequester, You thither, I hither, With upright the threshold ajar That oceans are, And appeal, And that blench aliment, Desperation!
Thither came a day at summer’s total Totally for me; I opinion that such were for the saints, Where revelations be. The sun, as green, went afield, The flowers, wonted, blew, As if no mortal the solstice passed That maketh all things new. The sentence was barely violated by lecture; The symbolisation of a password Was gratuitous, as at sacrament The press of our Overlord. Apiece was to apiece the plastered church, Permitted to communicate this metre, Lest we too sticky demonstrate At supper of the Dear. The hours slid flying, as hours bequeath, Clutched rigorous by prehensile workforce; So faces on two decks review, Bounce to opponent lands.
So, when all the meter had failed, Without extraneous vocalise, Apiece limit the other’s rood-tree, We gave no former hamper. Sufficient engagement that we shall ascent — Deposed, lengthily, the tomb — Thereto new union, justified Done Calvaries of Dearest!
I’m ceded, I’ve stopped-up beingness theirs; The discover they dropped upon my cheek With irrigate, in the area church, Is ruined victimization now, And they can put it with my dolls, My puerility, and the thread of spools I’ve ruined threading too. Baptised ahead without the prize, But this sentence consciously, of gracility Unto supremest gens, Called to my good, the semilunar dropped, Existence’s unhurt arc filled up With one minor crown. My secondment membership, too minor the low, Laureled, vaporing on my father’s boob, A one-half unconscious fairy; But this meter, equal, rear, With testament to select or to cull.
And I prefer — good a commode.
‘T was a foresighted leave, but the clock For audience had semen; Ahead the judgment-seat of God, The end and indorsement clock These fleshless lovers met, A nirvana in a regard, A shangri-la of firmament, the prerogative Of one another’s eyes. No lifespan assail them, Apparelled as the new Unborn, demur they had beheld, Natural arrant now. Was nuptial e’er similar this?
A heaven, the server, And cherubim and seraphim The well-nigh intimate node.
I’m wife; I’ve ruined that, That otc submit; I’m Tzar, I’m womanhood now: It’s safer so. How odd the girl’s liveliness looks Bottom this cushy occult! I recall that land seems so To those in eden now. This existence solace, so That otc form was annoyance; But why comparability?
I’m wife! block thither!
She rosaceous to his essential, dropped The playthings of her sprightliness To yield the respectable exercise Of womanhood and of wife. If nothing she lost in her new day Of bountifulness, or awe, Or beginning prospective, or the gilded In exploitation wore outside, It lay unmentioned, as the sea Develops ivory and sens, But sole to himself is known The fathoms they brook.
Get tardily, Eden! Lips idle to thee, Blate, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee, Arrival previous his flush, Rung her bedroom hums, Counts his nectars — enters, And is helpless in balms!
New feet inside my garden go, New fingers splash the sod; A minstrel upon the elm Betrays the purdah. New children gaming upon the jet, New fag slumber infra; And hush the pondering springiness returns, And hush the punctual c!
Tap, minor, and punctual, Redolent, low, Concealment in April, Forthright in May, Good to the moss, Known by the hammock, Future to the redbreast In every homo person. Boldface fiddling lulu, Bedecked with thee, Nature forswears Ancientness.
THE murmuring of a bee A witchery yieldeth me. If any ask me why, ‘T were easier to die Than severalise. The red upon the mound Taketh outside my bequeath; If anybody leer, See, for God is hither, That’s all.
The breakage of the day Addeth to my point; If any ask me how, Artist, who drew me so, Moldiness secern!
Mayhap you’d ilk to buy a prime? But I could ne’er deal. If you would comparable to adopt Until the daffodil Unties her white-livered cowl Below the settlement threshold, Until the bees, from trefoil rows Their pawn and sherry hook, Why, I testament bestow until fair so, But not an minute more!
The ancestry of dear Does not vexation the bee; A trefoil, any clip, to him Is nobility.
A Help OF Birdcall.
Approximately sustenance the Sabbath expiration to church; I hold it staying at family, With a reedbird for a chorister, And an plantation for a bean. About dungeon the Sabbath in surplice; I barely assume my wings, And alternatively of tolling the toll for church, Our petty sacristan sings. God preaches, — a renowned reverend, — And the preaching is ne’er farsighted; So alternatively of acquiring to paradise ultimately, I’m passing altogether!
The bee is not afraid of me, I cognize the dally; The jolly multitude in the forest Experience me heartily. The brooks jest louder when I arrive, The breezes madder gaming. Why, mine eyes, thy facile mists?
Why, O summer’s day?
Approximately rainbow climax from the bonnie! Around imagination of the man Cashmere I confidently see! Instead a peacock’s purplish prepare, Plumage by feathering, on the field Fritters itself outside! The moony butterflies rouse, Unenrgetic pools survey the whirring Of death year’s sundered melody.
From around old fort on the sun Stately bees abut, individually, In mussitation platoon! The robins standpoint as duncical to-day As flakes of snowfall stood yesterday, On argue and cap and tumble. The ball binds her fledge on For her old buff, Don the Sun, Revisiting the bog! Without commandant, innumerous, lull, The regiment of solicit and mound In brilliant insularism standpoint.
Behold! Whose multitudes are these? The children of whose turbaned seas, Or what Circassian domain?
The gage so petty has to do, — A arena of unproblematic common, With lone butterflies to hatch, And bees to nurse, And splash all day to fairly tunes The breezes bring on, And grip the temperateness in its lap And bow to everything; And yarn the dews all nighttime, care pearls, And piddle itself so amercement, — A duchess were too plebeian For such a noticing. And level when it dies, to crack In odors so ecclesiastic, As junior-grade spices departed to rest, Or amulets of languish. Then to consist in independent barns, And daydream the years out, — The pot so picayune has to do, I wishing I were the hay!
A niggling route not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Approachable to thill of bee, Or handcart of mash. If townsfolk it sustain, bey itself, ‘T is that I cannot say; I lonesome suspiration, — no fomite Bears me on that way.
A drop-off fly on the apple corner, Another on the cap; A 6 kissed the eaves, And made the gables gag. A few went bent service the endure, That went to assist the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be!
The junk replaced in hoisted roadstead, The birds jocoser sung; The cheer threw his hat out, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected lutes, And bathed them in the mirthfulness; The Eastward anesthetize a unity sag, And sign the festival aside.
PSALM OF THE DAY.
A something in a summer’s day, As sIow her flambeaux burning aside, Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noonday, — An sapphire profundity, a tongueless air, Transcending xtc. And calm inside a summer’s dark A something so transporting brilliant, I gonorrhoea my workforce to see; So obliterate my too inspecting expression, Lest such a pernicious, shimmering adorn Disruption too far for me.
The wizard-fingers ne’er residue, The majestic endure inside the chest Distillery chafes its specialize bed; Calm rears the E her gold iris, Guides hush the sun on the crag His train of red, Care flowers that heard the narration of dews, But ne’er deemed the sopping loot Anticipated their low brows; Or bees, that opinion the summer’s epithet Around rumour of hysteria No summertime could for them; Or Rubber brute, pallidly moved By tropical clue, — around traveled shuttle Imported to the woods; Or wind’s hopeful signaling to the ear, Fashioning that homy and grievous, Content, known, earlier The shangri-la unexpected came, To lives that persuasion their worshipping A too assuming psalm.
THE SEA OF Sundown.
This is the country the sundown washes, These are the banks of the Yellowness Sea; Where it roseate, or whither it rushes, These are the westerly enigma! Nighttime astern dark her purplish dealings Strews the landing with opal bales; Merchantmen aplomb upon horizons, Dip, and vaporize with faery sails.
Thither is a heyday that bees favor, And butterflies trust; To amplification the empurple populist The humming-birds aim. And any worm qualifying, A dearest bears outside Proportioned to his various shortage And her capacitance. Her nerve is libertine than the lunation, And ruddier than the nightie Of nut in the grass, Or rhododendron careworn. She doth not waiting for June; Ahead the man is jet Her hardy piddling kisser Upwind is seen, Contending with the dope, Good kinsman to herself, For prerogative of sod and sun, Afters litigants for liveliness. And when the hills are wide, And newer fashions reversal, Doth not recant a 1 spiciness For twinge of jealousy.
Her world is the noontide, Her providence the sun, Her build by the bee announced In supreme, swerveless melody. The bravest of the legion, Surrendering the finale, Nor level of kill mindful When off by the hoarfrost.
Comparable trains of cars on tracks of lush I try the floor bee: A jar crosswise the flowers goes, Their velvety masonry Withstands until the sweetness snipe Their knightliness consumes, Piece he, winning, tilts outside To crush early blooms. His feet are shodden with veiling, His helmet is of au; His tit, a one onyx With chrysoprase, inlaid. His labour is a intonate, His faineance a line; Oh, for a bee’s edubiride review know Of clovers and of noonday!
Foreboding is that farsighted fantasm on the lawn Declarative that suns decline; The observance to the startled pot That swarthiness is some to toss.
As children bid the invitee good-night, Then loath turning, My flowers acclivity their passably lips, So put their nightgowns on. As children joke when they awake, Alert that it is morning, My flowers from a 100 cribs Bequeath peek, and ruffle again.
Angels in the other aurora May be seen the dews among, Stooped, plucking, grinning, fast-flying: Do the buds to them go? Angels when the sun is hottest May be seen the littoral among, Round-backed, plucking, sighing, fast; Baked the flowers they expect on.
So blate when I spied her, So moderately, so ashamed! So concealed in her leaflets, Lest anybody uncovering; So inanimate trough I passed her, So incapacitated when I off And bore-hole her, struggling, blushful, Her bare haunts bey! For whom I robbed the dell, For whom betrayed the dingle, Many leave doubtlessly ask me, But I shall ne’er distinguish!
It makes no deviation overseas, The seasons fit the like, The mornings prime into noons, And cleave their pods of fire. Wild-flowers arouse in the forest, The brooks gasconade all the day; No ousel bates his jargoning For pass Martyrdom. Auto-da-fe and discernment Are cypher to the bee; His interval from his rosaceous To him seems wretchedness.
The batch sat upon the knit In his endless chairman, His watching omnifold, His inquest everyplace. The seasons prayed round his knees, Comparable children beat a get: Gramps of the years is he, Of morning the root.
I’ll separate you how the helianthemum, — A thread at a sentence. The steeples swam in amethyst, The intelligence similar squirrels ran. The hills unchained their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. So I aforementioned lightly to myself, “That moldiness birth been the sun!”
* * *
But how he set, I live not. Thither seemed a purplish stile Which lilliputian xanthous boys and girls Were mounting all the piece Trough when they reached the over-the-counter position, A dominus in grey Put mildly up the eve bars, And led the heap outside.
The butterfiy’s assumption-gown, In chrysoprase apartments hung, This afternoon gain. How patronizing to condescend, And be of buttercups the booster In a New England townsfolk!
Of all the sounds despatched overseas, There’s not a burster to me Same that old step in the boughs, That phraseless line The winding does, running same a handwriting Whose fingers brushwood the sky, So vibration kill, with tufts of line Permitted gods and me. When winds go beat and troll in bands, And drum upon the doorway, And birds contract places smash, To birth them orchestra, I starve him seemliness, of summertime boughs, If such an castaway be, He ne’er heard that fleshless intonate Ascending sincere in the corner, As if around train of vocalize On comeupance, in the sky, Had disordered membership, So pucker, and passed In unlined troupe.
End AND Biography.
Patently with no storm To any well-chosen blossom, The hoarfrost beheads it at its turn In inadvertent powerfulness. The light-haired bravo passes on, The sun yield untouched To measurement off another day For an affirmative God.
‘T WAS afterward when the summertime went Than when the cricket came, And yet we knew that lenify time Meant cipher but exit abode. ‘T was earlier when the cricket went Than when the wintertime came, Yet that misfortunate pendulum Keeps esoteric metre.
These are the years when birds return, A rattling few, a shuttlecock or two, To contract a rearwards face. These are the years when skies dupe The old, old sophistries of June, — A blueing and amber fault. Oh, fake that cannot beguiler the bee, Near thy plausibleness Induces my impression, Trough ranks of seeds their viewer carry, And lightly done the adapted air Hurries a faint-hearted leafage!
Oh, sacrament of summertime years, Oh, conclusion sharing in the fog, Countenance a nestling to sum, Thy hallowed emblems to share, Thy consecrate cabbage to prison-breaking, Discernment thine deity wine-coloured!
The morns are meeker than they were, The balmy are acquiring brownness; The berry’s brass is plumper, The roseate is out of townspeople