Some Poems of Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)

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

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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.

The Means to Attain a Happy Life, Advise to Youth #3 --Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Martial, the things that do attain
The happy life, be these I find,
The richesse left, not got with pain;
The fruitfull grounde, the quiet minde,

The egall frend, no grudge no srtife,
No charge of rule, nor gouernance;
Without disease the helthfull life;
The houshold of continuance;

The meane diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdome ioynde with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppresse,

The faithfull wife, without debate;
Such slepes as may begile the night:
Contented wyth thine owne estate
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might
--Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat--Not all That Tempts Your Wandering Eyes And Heedless Hearts is Lawful Prize, nor all That Glistens Gold

Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes

"Twas on a lofty vase's side,

Where China's gayest art had dyed

The azure flowers that blow;

Demurest of the tabby kind,

The pensive Selima reclined,

Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;

The fair round face, the snowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,

Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,

She saw: and purred applause.

Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide

Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream;

Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue

 Tho' richest purple to the view

Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw;

A whisker first and then a claw,

With many an ardent wish'

She stretched in vain to reach the prize.

What female heart can gold despise?

What Cat's averse to fish?

Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent

Again she stretched, again she bent,

Nor knew the gulf between,

(Malignant Fate sat by and smiled),

The slippery verge her feet beguiled,

She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood

She mewed to every watery god,

Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphins came, no Nereid stirred;

No cruel Tom, nor Susan heard,

A Favourite has no friend!

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived,

Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved;,

And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes

And heedless hearts is lawful prize,

Nor all that glistens, gold.

Advice to Youth #1 (Every Man in his Humour)

He that is so respectless on his courses,
Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
Nor would I, you should melt away yourself
In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect
To make a blaze of gentry to the world,
A little puff of scorn extinguish it;
And you be left like unsavoury snuff,
Whose property is only to offend.
I'd have you sober, and contain yourself,
Not that your sail be bigger than your boat;
But moderate your expenses now, at first,
As you may keep the same proportion still;
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
Which is an airy and mere borrow'd thing,
From dead men's dust and bones; and none of yours,
Except you make, or hold it.

Advice to Youth #2

Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive;

That would I have you do: and not to spend

Your coin on every bauble that you fancy,

Or every foolish brain that humours you.

I would not have you to invade each place,

Nor thrust yourself on all societies,

Till men's affections, or your own desert,

Should worthily invite you to your rank.

He that is so respectless on his courses,

Oft sells his reputation at  cheap market.

Nor would I, you should melt away yourself

In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect

To make a blaze of gentry to the world,

A little puff of scorn extinguish it;

And you be left like unsavoury snuff,

Whose property is only to offend.

I'd have you sober, and contain yourself,

Not that your sail be bigger than your boat;

But moderate your expenses now, at first,

As you may keep the same proportion still;

Nor stand so much on your gentility,

Which is an airy and mere borrow'd thing,

From dead men's dust and bones;
and none of yours,

Except you make, or hold it.

Friends Without Faces--FACEBOOK-Social Neworking

We sit and we type and we stare at our screens,
We can't help but wonder what all of this means.
With mouse in hand..we roam through this maze,
On an infinite search..lost in a daze.

Soon friendships are formed-but why we don't know,
But some of these frienships, will flourish and grow.
We give kisses and hugs, and sometimes we'll flirt,
In IMs we chat deeply, and reveal why we hurt.

Why is it on screen, we are so easily bold,
Telling our secrets, that have never been told?
The answer is simple, its clear as a bell,
We all have our problems, and need someone to tell.

We can't tell real people, but tell someone we must
So we turn to our 'puters..and those we can trust.
Even though it sounds crazy...the truth still remains.
Most of our "friends" have no faces...
and odd little names.
--usually attributed to Tomas Teague

Please Daddy, Let's Go

A little girl sith shining eyes,
Her upturned face aglow,
Said "Daddy, it's almost time,
For Sunday School, you know;
Let's go and hear of Jesus' love
Of how he died for all,
To take them to His home above
Who on His name will call."
"oh no" said Daddy, "Not to-day;
I've worked hard all the week;
And I must have one day of rest,
And fishing's find they say;
So run along, don't bother me,
We'll go ANOTHER day."
Months and years have passed away,
But Daddy hears that plea no more--
"Lets go to Sunday School.."
Those childish days are o'er.
And now that Daddy's growing old,
And life is almost through,
He finds some time to go to church,
But what does daughter do?
She says, Oh Daddy, not to-day.
Was out almost all night;
I've got to get a little sleep:
Besides, I look a fright."
Then Daddy lifts a trembling hand
To brush away the tears;
Again he hears that pleading voice,
Distinctly through the years,
He sees a small girl's upturned face,
Upturned with eyes aglow,
Saying, "It's time for Sunday School.
Please Daddy, won't you go?

The Sands of Forgiveness

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was very hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the desert sand:
TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him.

After he recovered from the near drowning, he carved into a stone:
TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE.

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you carve in stone, why?"

The other friend replied "When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no man, or wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN SAND AND ENGRAVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE. 

Love Defined (by the Bible and the Poem)

Love Defined--except that it describes all the things that love is NOT--this is a reasonably good poem. To begin with, LOVE IS NOT an emotion--second-hand or other wise, or a feeling, (to love is a verb and describes an action), it is also not a force, triumph, beacon, or goal. Love Defined What is love but an emotion So strong and so pure, That nurtured and shared with another All tests it will endure? What is love but a force To bring the mighty low, With the strength to shame the mountains And halt time's ceaseless flow? What is love but a triumph, A glorious goal attained, The union of two souls, two hearts, A bond the angels have ordained? What is love but a beacon To guide the wayward heart, A blazing light upon the shoals That dash cherished dreams apart? And what is love but forever, Eternal and sincere, A flame that through wax and wane Will outlive life's brief years? So I'll tell it on the mountaintops, In all places high and low, That love for you is my reason to be, And will never bow. Curtis Teed Everybody seems to believe that “LOVE” is a good thing. However, not all agree what is “LOVE. Is love that warm touchy –feely feeling a person has when he or she is with a familiar person? According to the Bible, love is not what we feel but what we do. The true meaning of love, as defined in the Bible, has been corrupted, by Amerifictation; their now common misuse of OUR ENGLISH language and by the MODERN “so-what” SOCIETY. Most often, love is confused with infatuation, that elated, “HIGH” feeling we get when we “fall in love” , copulation, or fornication. It is impossible to fall in love and this kind of “love” is something that lasts typically less than a year, and unless replaced by true love results in broken relationships. This kind of "love" is what; in other times, in more caring cultures and societies, gave one a very "bad " name and In the time of Christ could get you stoned to death.
Origin of Love The bible indicates that love is from God. In fact, the Bible says “God Is Love” Love is one of the primary characteristics of God. Likewise, God has endowed us with the capacity for love. This capacity for love is one of the ways we are supposedly “created in the image of God”; while in reality, Man created God-in HIS own image. Different Kinds of Love The Greek language (the language of the New Testament) uses two different words to describe and define love. The most commonly used Greek word translated “love” in the New Testament is “agape” This love is represented by God’s love for us. It is non-partial, SACRIFICIAL LOVE (and very un-healthy in humans) probably best exemplified by God’s provision for our rebellion???: “For God so loved (agape) the world that he gave-the life of, THAT WHICH WAS NOT HIS TO GIVE; so he gave nothing- His only begotten Son, the son that he "begot" by according to the bible, (forcing himself, or, his spirit, on a woman without her prior consent); but then, since we were created, according to the bible, in Gods image, we're intended to be his thoughtless slaves, obeying his will without question; so, the thought of a woman's "rights" would never cross the MIND OF SUCH A GOD.), that who ever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16). If God is the father of Christ; then the conception was not a-sexual. There had to be two sets of genes. There had to be Mary's genes; and God"s or some other father's induced genes; giving Mary's egg fertility and life. Therefore the conception was also not immaculate.
The gift of God’s son as a provision for sin was given to all humans, regardless of who we are. God’s love is therefore unconditional; but self centred to the extreme. In contrast, our love is usually conditional and based on how other people behave toward us; again fully self-centred. This kind of love is based upon familiarity and direct interaction. The Greek word “phileo” defines this kind of love, often translated “brotherly love”. Plileo is a soulish kind of love—something that can be experienced by both believers and non-believers. This is in contrast to agape, which is love extended through the spirit. Agape love requires a relationship with God ( and is the source of many of the world’s problems--especially since God did not secure permission from the U.S. of A. to impose this requirement and because he further implied that someone who lived and died in the Middle East could possibly have more authority or be more more "righteous" than the U.S. of A. ) through Jesus Christ,the man, since it is believed that the non-regenerated soul is unable to love unconditionally. Agape love gives and expects nothing in return—or so it is claimed. I am not a true agnostic—I do not believe in MAN’S GOD, but my higher power is The Mother of All, Nature Herself. But for those of you that do believe, have studied the Bible and know about Peter’s character, know that Peter was ruled by his emotions, and often responded to situations emotionally, rather than thinking before acting. Sometimes—rarely, this kind of response leads to good things e.g., Peter walking on water to meet Jesus-Matthew 14:25-33), whereas at other times, Peter’s response was inappropriate (He was interrupted by God while suggesting that he build three tabernacles, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Eliaja on the Mount of Transfiguration-Matthew 17:4) Peter was quite proficient at expressing phileo love, and was probably very popular because of his dynamic character. However God, (that image we created), wants us to express both phileo and agape love. The most famous biblical chapter on love is from 1 Corinthians: "If I speak in the tongues of men; and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong, or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the “FLAMES”, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, is not proud. Is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with TRUTH. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always PRESERVES. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, if will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection in the mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love"-13:1-13) This is a description of apage love.

© Al (Alex, Alexander) D Girvan 2011. All rights reserved.