January 2009
43 posts
DEAD. →
There’s something quieter than sleep Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast, And will not tell its name.
The soul should always stand ajar →
The soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her.
The dying need but little, dear →
The dying need but little, dear, — A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret, And certainly that one No color in…
Tie the strings to my life, my Lord →
Tie the strings to my life, my Lord, Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses — Rapid! That will do!
So proud she was to die →
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed.
Superfluous were the sun →
Superfluous were the sun When excellence is dead; He were superfluous every day, For every day is said That syllable whose faith Just saves it from despair, And whose ‘I’ll meet you’…
A sickness of this world it most occasions →
A sickness of this world it most occasions When best men die;
A wishfulness their far condition To occupy.
WAITING. →
I sing to use the waiting, My bonnet but to tie,
And shut the door unto my house; No more to do have I
My friend must be a bird →
The most unsociable of poets meets the latest in social media! In addition to visiting Daily Dickinson, you can get updates from this project on Facebook, Twitter, through a Google Gadget you can…
I meant to find her when I came →
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design;
But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine.
I felt a funeral in my brain →
I felt a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed That sense was breaking through.
TRYING TO FORGET. →
Bereaved of all, I went abroad, No less bereaved to be
Upon a new peninsula, — The grave preceded me, Obtained my lodgings ere myself, And when I sought my bed,
The grave it was,…
I wish I knew that woman’s name →
I wish I knew that woman’s name, So, when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears, For fear I hear her say She’s ‘sorry I am dead,’ again, Just when the grave and I …
Michael added 'The Collected Stories of Amy... →
Michael gave 4 stars to: The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel (Hardcover) by Amy Hempel Amy Hempel’s stories are like nothing else in contemporary fiction. They are plotless, almost…
INVISIBLE. →
From us she wandered now a year, Her tarrying unknown;
If wilderness prevent her feet, Or that ethereal zone No eye hath seen and lived, We ignorant must be.
We only know what time of…
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart →
On January 12, 2009, the words of Emily Dickinson will return to the London Underground. Two lines from Dickinson will be part of the British Humanist Association’s Atheist Bus campaign.
Me! Come! My dazzled face →
Me! Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear
The sounds of welcome near!
Sweet hours have perished here →
Sweet hours have perished here; This is a mighty room;
Within its precincts hopes have played, — Now shadows in the tomb.
This was in the white of the year →
This was in the white of the year, That was in the green,
Drifts were as difficult then to think As daisies now to be seen. Looking back is best that is left, Or if it be before, …
The grave my little cottage is →
The grave my little cottage is, Where, keeping house for thee,
I make my parlor orderly, And lay the marble tea, For two divided, briefly, A cycle, it may be,
Till everlasting life…
Where every bird is bold to go →
Where every bird is bold to go, And bees abashless play,
The foreigner before he knocks Must thrust the tears away.