A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord,
Then, I am ready to go!
Just a look at the Horses —
Rapid! That will do!
Put me in on the firmest side —
So I shall never fall —
For we must ride to the Judgment —
And it’s partly, down Hill —
But never I mind the steeper —
And never I mind the Sea —
Held fast in Everlasting Race —
By my own Choice, and Thee —
Goodbye to the Life I used to live —
And the World I used to know —
And kiss the Hills, for me, just once —
Then — I am ready to go!
Tags: choice, down, everlasting, fall, firmest, go, goodbye, held, hill, hills, horses, judgment, kiss, Life, lord, race, rapid, ready, sea, side, steeper, strings, thee, tie, world
Bound — a trouble –
And lives can bear it!
Limit — how deep a bleeding go!
So — many — drops — of vital scarlet –
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!
Tell it the Ages — to a cypher –
And it will ache — contented — on –
Sing — at its pain — as any Workman –
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!
Tags: ache, ages, algebra, bear, bleeding, bound, contented, cypher, deal, deep, drops, even, fall, limit, lives, notching, pain, scarlet, sing, soul, sun, trouble, vital, workman
Mama never forgets her birds,
Though in another tree –
She looks down just as often
And just as tenderly
As when her little mortal nest
With cunning care she wove –
If either of her “sparrows fall,”
She “notices,” above.
Tags: above, birds, care, cunning, down, fall, forgets, looks, mama, mortal, nest, notices, often, sparrows, tenderly, tree, wove
The Guest is gold and crimson –
An Opal guest and gray –
Of Ermine is his doublet –
His Capuchin gay –
He reaches town at nightfall –
He stops at every door –
Who looks for him at morning
I pray him too — explore
The Lark’s pure territory –
Or the Lapwing’s shore!
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of ‘Currer Bell,’
In quiet Haworth laid.
This bird, observing others,
When frosts too sharp became,
Retire to other latitudes,
Quietly did the same,
But differed in returning;
Since Yorkshire hills are green,
Yet not in all the nests I meet
Can nightingale be seen.
Gathered from many wanderings,
Gethsemane can tell
Through what transporting anguish
She reached the asphodel!
Soft fall the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear;
Oh, what an afternoon for heaven,
When ‘Bronte’ entered there!
Before the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go,
Or any cheek at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow,
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!
What we touch the hems of
On a summer’s day;
What is only walking
Just a bridge away;
That which sings so, speaks so,
When there’s no one here, –
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?
Tags: away, christmas, fall, ice, night, sing, snow, summer, touch, tree
Tie the strings to my life, my Lord,
Then I am ready to go!
Just a look at the horses –
Rapid! That will do!
Put me in on the firmest side,
So I shall never fall;
For we must ride to the Judgment,
And it’s partly down hill.
But never I mind the bridges,
And never I mind the sea;
Held fast in everlasting race
By my own choice and thee.
Good-by to the life I used to live,
And the world I used to know;
And kiss the hills for me, just once;
Now I am ready to go!
Tags: everlasting, fall, firmest, hills, horses, ice, kill, Life, must, race, rapid, sea, side, strings, tie
The bat is dun with wrinkled wings
Like fallow article,
And not a song pervades his lips,
Or none perceptible.
His small umbrella, quaintly halved,
Describing in the air
An arc alike inscrutable, –
Elate philosopher!
Deputed from what firmament
Of what astute abode,
Empowered with what malevolence
Auspiciously withheld.
To his adroit Creator
Ascribe no less the praise;
Beneficent, believe me,
His eccentricities.
