Emily Dickinson

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Discipline:
Language Arts
Subject:
Literature

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with You --It would be Life --And Life is over there --Behind the ShelfThe Sexton keeps the Key to --Putting upOur Life -- His Porcelain --Like a Cup --Discarded of the Housewife --Quaint -- or Broke --A newer Sevres pleases --Old Ones crack --I could not die -- with You --For One must waitTo shut the Other's Gaze down --You -- could not --And I -- Could I stand byAnd see You -- freeze --Without my Right of Frost --Death's privilege?Nor could I rise -- with You --Because Your FaceWould put out Jesus' --That New GraceGlow plain -- and foreignOn my homesick Eye --Except that You than HeShone closer by --They'd judge Us -- How -- For You -- served Heaven -- You know, Or sought to -- I could not --Because You saturated Sight --And I had no more EyesFor sordid excellenceAs ParadiseAnd were You lost, I would be --Though My NameRang loudestOn the Heavenly fame --And were You -- saved --And I -- condemned to beWhere You were not --That self -- were Hell to Me --So We must meet apart --You there -- I -- here --With just the Door ajarThat Oceans are -- and Prayer --And that White Sustenance --Despair --

Take your Heaven further on —This — to Heaven divine Has gone —Had You earlier blundered inPossibly, e'en You had seenAn Eternity — put on —Now — to ring a Door beyondIs the utmost of Your Hand —To the Skies — apologize —Nearer to Your CourtesiesThan this Sufferer polite —Dressed to meet You —See — in White!

She sights a Bird — she chuckles —She flattens — then she crawls —She runs without the look of feet —Her eyes increase to Balls —Her Jaws stir — twitching — hungry —Her Teeth can hardly stand —She leaps, but Robin leaped the first —Ah, Pussy, of the Sand,The Hopes so juicy ripening —You almost bather your Tongue —When Bliss disclosed a hundred Toes —And fled with every one —

A Diamond on the HandTo Custom Common grownSubsides from its significanceThe Gem were best unknown —Within a Seller's ShrineHow many sight and sighAnd cannot, but are mad for fearThat any other buy.

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!


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