A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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Through the Dark Sod — as Education –
The Lily passes sure –
Feels her white foot — no trepidation –
Her faith — no fear –
Afterward — in the Meadow –
Swinging her Beryl Bell –
The Mold-life — all forgotten — now –
In Ecstasy — and Dell –
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I saw no Way — The Heavens were stitched –
I felt the Columns close –
The Earth reversed her Hemispheres –
I touched the Universe –
And back it slid — and I alone –
A Speck upon a Ball –
Went out upon Circumference –
Beyond the Dip of Bell –
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Just so — Jesus — raps –
He — doesn’t weary –
Last — at the Knocker –
And first — at the Bell.
Then — on divinest tiptoe — standing –
Might He but spy the lady’s soul –
When He — retires –
Chilled — or weary –
It will be ample time for — me –
Patient — upon the steps — until then –
Hears! I am knocking — low at thee.
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That after Horror — that ’twas us –
That passed the mouldering Pier –
Just as the Granite Crumb let go –
Our Savior, by a Hair –
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb –
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb –
The possibility — to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell –
Into Conjecture’s presence –
Is like a Face of Steel –
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin –
The Cordiality of Death –
Who drills his Welcome in –
Tags: after, bell, conjecture, cordiality, crumb, death, deep, drills, dropped, face, fisherman, granite, grin, hair, horror, looks, metallic, moment, mouldering, numb, pass, passed, pier, plumb, possibility, presence, profile, recollection, savior, second, steel, suddenly, thought, us, welcome, without
Whose are the little beds, I asked
Which in the valleys lie?
Some shook their heads, and others smiled –
And no one made reply.
Perhaps they did not hear, I said,
I will inquire again –
Whose are the beds — the tiny beds
So thick upon the plain?
‘Tis Daisy, in the shortest –
A little further on –
Nearest the door — to wake the Ist –
Little Leontoden.
‘Tis Iris, Sir, and Aster –
Anemone, and Bell –
Bartsia, in the blanket red –
And chubby Daffodil.
Meanwhile, at many cradles
Her busy foot she plied –
Humming the quaintest lullaby
That ever rocked a child.
Hush! Epigea wakens!
The Crocus stirs her lids –
Rhodora’s cheek is crimson,
She’s dreaming of the woods!
Then turning from them reverent –
Their bedtime ’tis, she said –
The Bumble bees will wake them
When April woods are red.
Tags: anemone, april, aster, bartsia, beds, bedtime, bees, bell, blanket, cheek, child, cradles, crimson, crocus, daisy, dreaming, epigea, foot, heads, inquire, iris, leontoden, lullaby, plain, red, reply, reverent, rhodora, thick, valleys, wake, woods
