A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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The Skies can’t keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills –
The Hills just tell the Orchards –
And they — the Daffodils!
A Bird — by chance — that goes that way –
Soft overhears the whole –
If I should bribe the little Bird –
Who knows but she would tell?
I think I won’t — however –
It’s finer — not to know –
If Summer were an Axiom –
What sorcery had Snow?
So keep your secret — Father!
I would not — if I could,
Know what the Sapphire Fellows, do,
In your new-fashioned world!
Tags: axiom, bird, bribe, chance, daffodils, father, fellows, finer, hills, new-fashioned, orchards, overhears, sapphire, secret, skies, snow, soft, sorcery, summer, tell, think, whole, world
If I could bribe them by a Rose
I’d bring them every flower that grows
From Amherst to Cashmere!
I would not stop for night, or storm –
Or frost, or death, or anyone –
My business were so dear!
If they would linger for a Bird
My Tambourin were soonest heard
Among the April Woods!
Unwearied, all the summer long,
Only to break in wilder song
When Winter shook the boughs!
What if they hear me!
Who shall say
That such an importunity
May not at last avail?
That, weary of this Beggar’s face –
They may not finally say, Yes –
To drive her from the Hall?
Tags: amherst, april, avail, beggar, bird, boughs, break, bribe, business, cashmere, dear, death, face, flower, frost, grows, hall, hear, importunity, linger, long, night, rose, song, stop, storm, summer, tambourin, unwearied, wilder, winter, woods
Musicians wrestle everywhere –
All day — among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife –
And — waking — long before the morn –
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that “New Life”!
If is not Bird — it has no nest –
Nor “Band” — in brass and scarlet — drest –
Nor Tamborin — nor Man –
It is not Hymn from pulpit read –
The “Morning Stars” the Treble led
On Time’s first Afternoon!
Some — say — it is “the Spheres” — at play!
Some say that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames — and Men!
Some — think it service in the place
Where we — with late — celestial face –
Please God — shall Ascertain!
Tags: afternoon, air, band, bird, brass, crowded, everywhere, hymn, Life, man, morn, musicians, nest, pulpit, scarlet, silver, strife, tamborin, town, transport, treble, waking, wrestle
Dust is the only Secret –
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his “native town.”
Nobody know “his Father” –
Never was a Boy –
Hadn’t any playmates,
Or “Early history” –
Industrious! Laconic!
Punctual! Sedate!
Bold as a Brigand!
Stiller than a Fleet!
Builds, like a Bird, too!
Christ robs the Nest –
Robin after Robin
Smuggled to Rest!
Tags: bird, bold, boy, brigand, christ, death, dust, father, fleet, history, industrial, laconic, native, nest, playmates, punctual, robin, secret, sedate, smuggled, stiller, town
For every Bird a Nest –
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round –
Wherefore when boughs are free –
Households in every tree –
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high –
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires –
Perhaps of twig so fine –
Of twine e’en superfine,
Her pride aspires –
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house –
Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?
Tags: aristocracy, aspires, bird, boughs, dancing, free, ground, high, home, households, lark, modest, nest, pilgrim, pride, quest, rejoice, seeking, sun, timid, tree, twig, wren
Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here.
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird’s nest,
And sow the Early seed –
That when the snow creeps slowly
From off his chamber door –
Daisies point the way there –
And the Troubadour.
Tags: bed, bird, chamber, daisies, door, master, nest, seed, sexton, sleeping, snow, troubadour
It did not surprise me –
So I said — or thought –
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,
Traverse broader forests –
Build in gayer boughs,
Breathe in Ear more modern
God’s old fashioned vows –
This was but a Birdling –
What and if it be
One within my bosom
Had departed me?
This was but a story –
What and if indeed
There were just such coffin
In the heart instead?
Nobody knows this little Rose –
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it –
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey –
On its breast to lie –
Only a Bird will wonder –
Only a Breeze will sigh –
Ah Little Rose — how easy
For such as thee to die!
