A Solemn thing within the Soul

A Solemn thing within the SoulA Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe —
And golden hang — while farther up —
The Maker’s Ladders stop —
And in the Orchard far below —
You hear a Being — drop —

A Wonderful — to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished —
Cool of eye, and critical of Work —
He shifts the stem — a little —
To give your Core — a look —

But solemnest — to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer — Every Sun
The Single — to some lives.

“Why do I love” You, Sir?

"Why do I love" You, Sir?“Why do I love” You, Sir?
Because —
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer — Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows — and
Do not You —
And We know not —
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so —

The Lightning — never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut — when He was by —
Because He knows it cannot speak —
And reasons not contained —
— Of Talk —
There be — preferred by Daintier Folk —

The Sunrise — Sire — compelleth Me —
Because He’s Sunrise — and I see —
Therefore — Then —
I love Thee —

She dealt her pretty words like Blades —

She dealt her pretty words like BladesShe dealt her pretty words like Blades —
How glittering they shone —
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone —

She never deemed — she hurt —
That — is not Steel’s Affair —
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh —
How ill the Creatures bear —

To Ache is human — not polite —
The Film upon the eye
Mortality’s old Custom —
Just locking up — to Die.

No Man can compass a Despair —

No Man can compass a DespairNo Man can compass a Despair —
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveller proceed —

Unconscious of the Width —
Unconscious that the Sun
Be setting on His progress —
So accurate the One

At estimating Pain —
Whose own — has just begun —
His ignorance — the Angel
That pilot Him along —

I am ashamed — I hide —

I am ashamed I hideI am ashamed — I hide —
What right have I — to be a Bride —
So late a Dowerless Girl —
Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face —
No one to teach me that new Grace —
Nor introduce — my Soul —

Me to adorn — How — tell —
Trinket — to make Me beautiful —
Fabrics of Cashmere —
Never a Gown of Dun — more —
Raiment instead — of Pompadour —
For Me — My soul — to wear —

Fingers — to frame my Round Hair
Oval — as Feudal Ladies wore —
Far Fashions — Fair —
Skill to hold my Brow like an Earl —
Plead — like a Whippoorwill —
Prove — like a Pearl —
Then, for Character —
Fashion My Spirit quaint — white —
Quick — like a Liquor —
Gay — like Light —
Bring Me my best Pride —
No more ashamed —
No more to hide —
Meek — let it be — too proud — for Pride —
Baptized — this Day — a Bride —

A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.