A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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Take your Heaven further on –
This — to Heaven divine Has gone –
Had You earlier blundered in
Possibly, e’en You had seen
An Eternity — put on –
Now — to ring a Door beyond
Is the utmost of Your Hand –
To the Skies — apologize –
Nearer to Your Courtesies
Than this Sufferer polite –
Dressed to meet You –
See — in White!
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I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery –
Others — whose instant’s wanting –
Would be Eternity –
The last — a scanty Number –
‘Twould scarcely fill a Two –
The first — a Gnat’s Horizon
Could easily outgrow –
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They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man –
His fingers are the size of fists –
His fists, the size of men –
And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand –
Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,
So trust him, Comrade –
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.
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My Reward for Being, was This.
My premium — My Bliss –
An Admiralty, less –
A Sceptre — penniless –
And Realms — just Dross –
When Thrones accost my Hands –
With “Me, Miss, Me” –
I’ll unroll Thee –
Dominions dowerless — beside this Grace –
Election — Vote –
The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.
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The Soul’s Superior instants
Occur to Her — alone –
When friend — and Earth’s occasion
Have infinite withdrawn –
Or She — Herself — ascended
To too remote a Height
For lower Recognition
Than Her Omnipotent –
This Mortal Abolition
Is seldom — but as fair
As Apparition — subject
To Autocratic Air –
Eternity’s disclosure
To favorites — a few –
Of the Colossal substance
Of Immortality
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A single Screw of Flesh
Is all that pins the Soul
That stands for Deity, to Mine,
Upon my side the Veil –
Once witnessed of the Gauze –
Its name is put away
As far from mine, as if no plight
Had printed yesterday,
In tender — solemn Alphabet,
My eyes just turned to see,
When it was smuggled by my sight
Into Eternity –
More Hands — to hold — These are but Two –
One more new-mailed Nerve
Just granted, for the Peril’s sake –
Some striding — Giant — Love –
So greater than the Gods can show,
They slink before the Clay,
That not for all their Heaven can boast
Will let its Keepsake — go
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Some things that fly there be –
Birds — Hours — the Bumblebee –
Of these no Elegy.
Some things that stay there be –
Grief — Hills — Eternity –
Nor this behooveth me.
There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!
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On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar –
Where the storm is o’er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest –
The anchors fast –
Thither I pilot thee –
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
