Car poems
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My Eye is fuller than my vase
© Emily Dickinson
My Eye is fuller than my vase --
Her Cargo -- is of Dew --
And still -- my Heart -- my Eye outweighs --
East India -- for you!
Mama never forgets her birds,
© Emily Dickinson
Mama never forgets her birds,
Though in another tree --
She looks down just as often
And just as tenderly
Kill your Balm -- and its Odors bless you
© Emily Dickinson
Kill your Balm -- and its Odors bless you --
Bare your Jessamine -- to the storm --
And she will fling her maddest perfume --
Haply -- your Summer night to Charm --
It's thoughts -- and just One Heart
© Emily Dickinson
It's thoughts -- and just One Heart --
And Old Sunshine -- about --
Make frugal -- Ones -- Content --
And two or three -- for Company --
Upon a Holiday --
Crowded -- as Sacrament --
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature
© Emily Dickinson
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature --
It gains the Block -- and now -- it gains the Door --
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings --
Enters -- with a "You know Me -- Sir"?
Image of Light, Adieu --
© Emily Dickinson
Image of Light, Adieu --
Thanks for the interview --
So long -- so short --
Preceptor of the whole --
Coeval Cardinal --
Impart -- Depart --
If I'm lost -- now
© Emily Dickinson
If I'm lost -- now
That I was found --
Shall still my transport be --
That once -- on me -- those Jasper Gates
Blazed open -- suddenly --
I've dropped my Brain -- My Soul is numb --
© Emily Dickinson
I've dropped my Brain -- My Soul is numb --
The Veins that used to run
Stop palsied -- 'tis Paralysis
Done perfecter on stone
I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
© Emily Dickinson
I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?
I watched the Moon around the House
© Emily Dickinson
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane --
She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest --
And there upon
I think the longest Hour of all
© Emily Dickinson
I think the longest Hour of all
Is when the Cars have come --
And we are waiting for the Coach --
It seems as though the Time
I think just how my shape will rise
© Emily Dickinson
I think just how my shape will rise --
When I shall be "forgiven" --
Till Hair -- and Eyes -- and timid Head --
Are out of sight -- in Heaven --
I tend my flowers for thee
© Emily Dickinson
I tend my flowers for thee --
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia's Coral Seams
Rip -- while the Sower -- dreams --
I learned -- at least -- what Home could be --
© Emily Dickinson
I learned -- at least -- what Home could be --
How ignorant I had been
Of pretty ways of Covenant --
How awkward at the Hymn
I had some things that I called mine
© Emily Dickinson
I had some things that I called mine --
And God, that he called his,
Till, recently a rival Claim
Disturbed these amities.
I cried at Pity -- not at Pain --
© Emily Dickinson
I cried at Pity -- not at Pain --
I heard a Woman say
"Poor Child" -- and something in her voice
Convicted me -- of me --
I could die -- to know --
© Emily Dickinson
I could die -- to know --
'Tis a trifling knowledge --
News-Boys salute the Door --
Carts -- joggle by --
Morning's bold face -- stares in the window --
Were but mine -- the Charter of the least Fly --
I can wade Grief
© Emily Dickinson
I can wade Grief --
Whole Pools of it --
I'm used to that --
But the least push of Joy
How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
© Emily Dickinson
How the old Mountains drip with Sunset
How the Hemlocks burn --
How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder
By the Wizard Sun --
How sick -- to wait -- in any place -- but thine
© Emily Dickinson
How sick -- to wait -- in any place -- but thine --
I knew last night -- when someone tried to twine --
Thinking -- perhaps -- that I looked tired -- or alone --
Or breaking -- almost -- with unspoken pain --
