This work is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.
The author died in 1958, so this work is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN in countries and areas (such as the internet) where longer copyright terms might be in effect but that apply the rule of the shorter term to FOREIGN WORKS.
These poems by Emily Dickinson (and all works of Robert William Service) is PUBLIC DOMAIN
not subject to any copyright my blogs and postings do NOT infringe upon anyone else's rights
and should NOT be linked to any other site.
and should NOT be linked to any other site.
Neither this blog, or any of my postings there in, should not be linked to and there is absolutely no connection between, my blogs and or anything posted by Bryant McGill.
While it is obvious that he very much likes to pretend that he has: HE DOES NOT HAVE ANY LEGAL COPYRIGHTS ON WORKS THAT ARE;
PART OF EVERY ONE'S HERITAGE.
By so pretending Mr McGill becomes guilty of very blatant plagiarism.
Emily Dickinson, regarded as one of the great poets from the United States of America, is also well known for her unusual life of self imposed social seclusion. Living a life of simplicity and seclusion, she yet wrote poetry of great power; questioning the nature of immortality and death, with at times an almost mantric quality. Her different lifestyle created an aura; often romanticised, and frequently a source of interest and speculation. But ultimately Emily Dickinson is remembered for her unique poetry. Within short, compact phrases she expressed far-reaching ideas; amidst paradox and uncertainty her poetry has an undeniable capacity to move and provoke.
I Shall Not Live IN Vain
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again
I shall not live in vain.
Within My Garden
Within my garden rides a bird
Upon a single wheel,
Whose spokes a dizzy music make
As ‘twere a travelling mill.
He never stops, but slackens
Above the ripest rose
Partakes without a lighting
And praises as he goes;
Till every spice os
tasted
And then his fairy gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres,
And I rejoin my dog.
And he and I perplex us
If positive ‘twere we—
Or bore the garden in the brain
This curiosity?
But he, the best logician,
Refers my duller eye
To just vibrating blossoms—
An exquisite reply!
Within my
garden rides a bird
Upon a
single wheel,
Whose
spokes a dizzy music make
As ‘twere
a travelling mill.
He never
stops, but slackens
Above the
ripest rose
Partakes
without a lighting
And
praises as he goes;
Till
every spice os tasted
And then
his fairy gig
Reels in
remoter atmospheres,
And I
rejoin my dog.
And he
and I perplex us
If
positive ‘twere we—
Or bore
the garden in the brain
This
curiosity?
But he,
the best logician,
Refers
my duller eye
To just
vibrating blossoms—
An exquisite
reply!
I'm Nobody! Who are You?
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise -- you know!
How dreary -- to be -- Somebody!
How public -- like a Frog --
To tell one's name -- the livelong June --
To an admiring Bog!
My Life Closed Twice Before its
Close.
My life closed twice before its close --
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
Because I Could not Stop for Death.
Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste
And I had put away
My labour and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, he passed us
The dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my gown
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the GROUND
The roof was scarcely visible
The cornice in the ground.
Since then 'tis centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the DAY
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
If I Should die,
If I should die,
And you should live --
And time should gurgle on --
And morn should beam --
And noon should burn --
As it has usual done --
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go --
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie --
That Commerce will continue --
And Trades as briskly fly --
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene --
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!
There is Another Sky
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!
Heart we will forget him!
Heart! We will forget him!
You and I -- tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave --
I will forget the light!
When you have done, pray tell me
That I may straight begin!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I remember him!
"Hope" is the thing with
feathers --
"Hope" is the thing with feathers --
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --
And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --
I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of Me.
You Love me -- you are Sure --
You love me -- you are sure --
I shall not fear mistake --
I shall not cheated wake --
Some grinning morn --
To find the Sunrise left --
And Orchards -- unbereft --
And Dollie -- gone!
I need not start -- you're sure --
That night will never be --
When frightened -- home to Thee I run --
To find the windows dark --
And no more Dollie -- mark --
Quite none?
Be sure you're sure -- you know --
I'll bear it better now --
If you'll just tell me so --
Than when -- a little dull Balm grown --
Over this pain of mine --
You sting -- again!
The Red -- Blaze -- is the Morning
--
The Red -- Blaze -- is the Morning --
The Violet -- is Noon --
The Yellow -- Day -- is falling --
And after that -- is none --
But Miles of Sparks -- at Evening --
Reveal the Width that burned --
The Territory Argent -- that
Never yet -- consumed --
A Slash of Blue --
A sweep of Grey --
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky --
A little purple -- slipped between --
Some Ruby Trousers hurried on --
A Wave of Gold --
A Bank of Day --
This just makes out the Morning Sky.
A Thunderstorm
The wind began to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,--
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.
The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.
The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightening showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.
The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands
That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just quartering a tree.
The Snake
A Narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not?
His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens farther on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
Have passed,, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
The Snow
It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.
It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain,--
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.
It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil
On stump and stack and stem,--
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.
It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen,--
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.
A Bird Came Down the Walk
A Bird came down the walk;
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,--
They looked like frightened beads, I thought
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, splashless, as they swim.
