A daily poem from the complete works of Emily Dickinson.
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I had the Glory — that will do –
An Honor, Thought can turn her to
When lesser Fames invite –
With one long “Nay” –
Bliss’ early shape
Deforming — Dwindling — Gulfing up –
Time’s possibility.
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I cannot dance upon my Toes –
No Man instructed me –
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge –
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe –
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze –
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so –
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here –
Nor any Placard boast me –
It’s full as Opera –
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I got so I could take his name –
Without — Tremendous gain –
That Stop-sensation — on my Soul –
And Thunder — in the Room –
I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned — how –
And all our Sinew tore –
I got so I could stir the Box –
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath –
As Staples — driven through –
Could dimly recollect a Grace –
I think, they call it “God” –
Renowned to ease Extremity –
When Formula, had failed –
And shape my Hands –
Petition’s way,
Tho’ ignorant of a word
That Ordination — utters –
My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair –
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery –
Itself, too vast, for interrupting — more –
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