Tag Archives: touch

The Malay — took the Pearl —

The Malay took the Pearl
The Malay — took the Pearl —
Not — I — the Earl —
I — feared the Sea — too much
Unsanctified — to touch —

Praying that I might be
Worthy — the Destiny —
The Swarthy fellow swam —
And bore my Jewel — Home —

Home to the Hut! What lot
Had I — the Jewel — got —
Borne on a Dusky Breasty —
I had not deemed a Vest
Of Amber — fit —

The Negro never knew
I — wooed it — too —
To gain, or be undone —
Alike to Him — One —

I’ll clutch — and clutch —

I'll clutch -- and clutch --I’ll clutch — and clutch —
Next — One — Might be the golden touch —
Could take it —
Diamonds — Wait —
I’m diving — just a little late —
But stars — go slow — for night —

I’ll string you — in fine Necklace —
Tiaras — make — of some —
Wear you on Hem —
Loop up a Countess — with you —
Make — a Diadem — and mend my old One —
Count — Hoard — then lose —
And doubt that you are mine —
To have the joy of feeling it — again —

I’ll show you at the Court —
Bear you — for Ornament
Where Women breathe —
That every sigh — may lift you
Just as high — as I —

And — when I die —
In meek array — display you —
Still to show — how rich I go —
Lest Skies impeach a wealth so wonderful —
And banish me —

Do you have a Nook? Get the Daily Dickinson Nook Screensaver collection!

Not probable — The barest Chance —

Not probable -- The barest Chance --When Night is almost done —
And Sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the Spaces —
It’s time to smooth the Hair —

And get the Dimples ready —
And wonder we could care
For that old — faded Midnight —
That frightened — but an Hour —

Do you have a Nook? Get the Daily Dickinson Nook Screensaver collection!

‘Twas the old — road — through pain —

'Twas the old -- road -- through pain --‘Twas the old — road — through pain —
That unfrequented — one —
With many a turn — and thorn —
That stops — at Heaven —

This — was the Town — she passed —
There — where she — rested — last —
Then — stepped more fast —
The little tracks — close prest —
Then — not so swift —
Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow —
Then — stopped — no other track!

Wait! Look! Her little Book —
The leaf — at love — turned back —
Her very Hat —
And this worn shoe just fits the track —
Herself — though — fled!

Another bed — a short one —
Women make — tonight —
In Chambers bright —
Too out of sight — though —
For our hoarse Good Night —
To touch her Head!

Do you have a Nook? Get the Daily Dickinson Nook Screensaver collection!

If I’m lost — now

If I'm lost -- now If I’m lost — now
That I was found —
Shall still my transport be —
That once — on me — those Jasper Gates
Blazed open — suddenly —

That in my awkward — gazing — face —
The Angels — softly peered —
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared —
I’m banished — now — you know it —
How foreign that can be —
You’ll know — Sir — when the Savior’s face
Turns so — away from you —

The Sun — just touched the Morning —

The Sun -- just touched the Morning --The Sun — just touched the Morning —
The Morning — Happy thing —
Supposed that He had come to dwell —
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer —
A Raised — Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth — for Her — What Holiday!
Meanwhile — Her wheeling King —
Trailed — slow — along the Orchards —
His haughty — spangled Hems —
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning — fluttered — staggered —
Felt feebly — for Her Crown —
Her unanointed forehead —
Henceforth — Her only One!

For this — accepted Breath —

For this -- accepted Breath --For this — accepted Breath —
Through it — compete with Death —
The fellow cannot touch this Crown —
By it — my title take —
Ah, what a royal sake
To my necessity — stooped down!

No Wilderness — can be
Where this attendeth me —
No Desert Noon —
No fear of frost to come
Haunt the perennial bloom —
But Certain June!

Get Gabriel — to tell — the royal syllable —
Get Saints — with new — unsteady tongue —
To say what trance below
Most like their glory show —
Fittest the Crown!

Wait till the Majesty of Death

Wait till the Majesty of DeathWait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered Footman
Might dare to touch it now!

Wait till in Everlasting Robes
That Democrat is dressed,
Then prate about “Preferment” —
And “Station,” and the rest!

Around this quiet Courtier
Obsequious Angels wait!
Full royal is his Retinue!
Full purple is his state!

A Lord, might dare to lift the Hat
To such a Modest Clay
Since that My Lord, “the Lord of Lords”
Receives unblushingly!