Poems begining by D
/ page 92 of 94 /Did the Harebell loose her girdle
© Emily Dickinson
Did the Harebell loose her girdle
To the lover Bee
Would the Bee the Harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
Did Our Best Moment last
© Emily Dickinson
Did Our Best Moment last --
'Twould supersede the Heaven --
A few -- and they by Risk -- procure --
So this Sort -- are not given --
Despair's advantage is achieved
© Emily Dickinson
Despair's advantage is achieved
By suffering -- Despair --
To be assisted of Reverse
One must Reverse have bore --
Deprived of other Banquet,
© Emily Dickinson
Deprived of other Banquet,
I entertained Myself --
At first -- a scant nutrition --
An insufficient Loaf --
Denial -- is the only fact
© Emily Dickinson
Denial -- is the only fact
Perceived by the Denied --
Whose Will -- a numb significance --
The Day the Heaven died --
Delight's Despair at setting
© Emily Dickinson
Delight's Despair at setting
Is that Delight is less
Than the sufficing Longing
That so impoverish.
Delight is as the flight
© Emily Dickinson
Delight is as the flight --
Or in the Ratio of it,
As the Schools would say --
The Rainbow's way --
Delight -- becomes pictorial --
© Emily Dickinson
Delight -- becomes pictorial --
When viewed through Pain --
More fair -- because impossible
Than any gain --
Delayed till she had ceased to know
© Emily Dickinson
Delayed till she had ceased to know --
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay --
An hour behind the fleeting breath --
Later by just an hour than Death --
Oh lagging Yesterday!
Declaiming Waters none may dread --
© Emily Dickinson
Declaiming Waters none may dread --
But Waters that are still
Are so for that most fatal cause
In Nature -- they are full --
Death's Waylaying not the sharpest
© Emily Dickinson
Death's Waylaying not the sharpest
Of the thefts of Time --
There Marauds a sorer Robber,
Silence -- is his name --
Death warrants are supposed to be
© Emily Dickinson
Death warrants are supposed to be
An enginery of equity
A merciful mistake
A pencil in an Idol's Hand
A Devotee has oft consigned
To Crucifix or Block
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
© Emily Dickinson
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
Except that it is gone
Are ignorant of its Concern
As if it were not born.
Death is the supple Suitor
© Emily Dickinson
Death is the supple Suitor
That wins at last --
It is a stealthy Wooing
Conducted first
Death is potential to that Man
© Emily Dickinson
Death is potential to that Man
Who dies -- and to his friend --
Beyond that -- unconspicuous
To Anyone but God --
Death is like the insect
© Emily Dickinson
Death is like the insect
Menacing the tree,
Competent to kill it,
But decoyed may be.
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
© Emily Dickinson
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Dust is the only Secret
© Emily Dickinson
Dust is the only Secret --
Death, the only One
You cannot find out all about
In his "native town."
Doom is the House without the Door
© Emily Dickinson
Doom is the House without the Door --
'Tis entered from the Sun --
And then the Ladder's thrown away,
Because Escape -- is done --
Distrustful of the Gentian
© Emily Dickinson
Distrustful of the Gentian --
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy --