Cool poems

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The Black Berry -- wears a Thorn in his side --

© Emily Dickinson

The Black Berry -- wears a Thorn in his side --
But no Man heard Him cry --
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridge -- and to Boy --

That odd old man is dead a year --

© Emily Dickinson

That odd old man is dead a year --
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.

Robbed by Death -- but that was easy --

© Emily Dickinson

Robbed by Death -- but that was easy --
To the failing Eye
I could hold the latest Glowing --
Robbed by Liberty

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 did not reach Thee

© Emily Dickinson

I did not reach Thee
But my feet slip nearer every day
Three Rivers and a Hill to cross
One Desert and a Sea
I shall not count the journey one
When I am telling thee.

I could not drink it, Sweet,

© Emily Dickinson

I could not drink it, Sweet,
Till You had tasted first,
Though cooler than the Water was
The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.

I bring an unaccustomed wine

© Emily Dickinson

I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching
Next to mine,
And summon them to drink;

Forget! The lady with the Amulet

© Emily Dickinson

Forget! The lady with the Amulet
Forget she wore it at her Heart
Because she breathed against
Was Treason twixt?

Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth --

© Emily Dickinson

Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth --
Widths out of the Sun --
And look -- and shudder, and block your breath --
And deem to be alone

As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies

© Emily Dickinson

As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies
As the Vulture teased
Forces the Broods in lonely Valleys
As the Tiger eased

As far from pity, as complaint

© Emily Dickinson

As far from pity, as complaint --
As cool to speech -- as stone --
As numb to Revelation
As if my Trade were Bone --

A Weight with Needles on the pounds

© Emily Dickinson

A Weight with Needles on the pounds --
To push, and pierce, besides --
That if the Flesh resist the Heft --
The puncture -- coolly tries --

A Solemn thing within the Soul

© Emily Dickinson

A Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe --
And golden hang -- while farther up --
The Maker's Ladders stop --
And in the Orchard far below --
You hear a Being -- drop --

A Clock stopped

© Emily Dickinson

A Clock stopped --
Not the Mantel's --
Geneva's farthest skill
Can't put the puppet bowing --
That just now dangled still --

Who never lost, are unprepared

Who never lost, are unprepared
A Coronet to find!
Who never thirsted
Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!

We dream -- it is good we are dreaming --

We dream -- it is good we are dreaming --
It would hurt us -- were we awake --
But since it is playing -- kill us,
And we are playing -- shriek --

'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,

'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch,
That nearer, every Day,
Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel
Until the Agony

We talked as Girls do --

We talked as Girls do --
Fond, and late --
We speculated fair, on every subject, but the Grave --
Of ours, none affair --

I often passed the village

I often passed the village
When going home from school --
And wondered what they did there --
And why it was so still --

He fumbles at your Soul

He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on --
He stuns you by degrees --