We do not play on Graves —

We do not play on Graves
We do not play on Graves —
Because there isn’t Room —
Besides — it isn’t even — it slants
And People come —

And put a Flower on it —
And hang their faces so —
We’re fearing that their Hearts will drop —
And crush our pretty play —

And so we move as far
As Enemies — away —
Just looking round to see how far
It is — Occasionally —

Why make it doubt — it hurts it so –

Why make it doubt it hurts it so
Why make it doubt — it hurts it so —
So sick — to guess —
So strong — to know —
So brave — upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself — and smile — And shake —
For that dear — distant — dangerous — Sake —
But — the Instead — the Pinching fear
That Something — it did do — or dare —
Offend the Vision — and it flee —
And They no more remember me —
Nor ever turn to tell me why —
Oh, Master, This is Misery –

A Wife — at daybreak I shall be –

A Wife at daybreak I shall be
A Wife — at daybreak I shall be —
Sunrise — Hast thou a Flag for me?
At Midnight, I am but a Maid,
How short it takes to make a Bride —
Then — Midnight, I have passed from thee
Unto the East, and Victory —

Midnight — Good Night! I hear them call,
The Angels bustle in the Hall —
Softly my Future climbs the Stair,
I fumble at my Childhood’s prayer
So soon to be a Child no more —
Eternity, I’m coming — Sire,
Savior — I’ve seen the face — before!

I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells –

I know where Wells grow Droughtless Wells
I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —
Deep dug — for Summer days —
Where Mosses go no more away —
And Pebble — safely plays —

It’s made of Fathoms — and a Belt —
A Belt of jagged Stone —
Inlaid with Emerald — half way down —
And Diamonds — jumbled on —

It has no Bucket — Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy —
I’m often thirsty — but my lips
Are so high up — You see —

I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People “thirst no more” —
The Wells have Buckets to them there —
It must mean that — I’m sure —

Shall We remember Parching — then?
Those Waters sound so grand —
I think a little Well — like Mine —
Dearer to understand –

Like eyes that looked on Wastes –

Like eyes that looked on WastesLike eyes that looked on Wastes —
Incredulous of Ought
But Blank — and steady Wilderness —
Diversified by Night —

Just Infinites of Nought —
As far as it could see —
So looked the face I looked upon —
So looked itself — on Me —

I offered it no Help —
Because the Cause was Mine —
The Misery a Compact
As hopeless — as divine —

Neither — would be absolved —
Neither would be a Queen
Without the Other — Therefore —
We perish — tho’ We reign –

A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.