Emily Dickinson Poems

49

I never lost as much but twice,

And that was in the sod.

Twice have I stood a beggar

Before the door of God!

Angels - twice descending

Reimbursed my store -

Burglar! Banker ­- Father!

I am poor once more!

67

Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nektar

Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host

Who took the Flag today

Can tell the definition

So clear of Victory

As he defeated - dying -

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Burst agonized and clear!

241

I like a look of Agony,

Because I know it's true -

Men do not sham Convulsion,

Nor simulate, a Throe -

The Eyes glaze once - and that is Death -

Impossible to feign

The Beads upon the Forehead

By homely Anguish strung.

465

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died;
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air -
Between the Heaves of Storm -
The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -	5
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset - when the King
Be witnessed - in the Room -
I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away
What portion of me be	10
Assignable and then it was
There interposed a Fly -
With Blue - uncertain stumbling Buzz -
Between the light - and me -
And then the Windows failed - and then	15
I could not see to see -.

712

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 labor 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 Des 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 -

986

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 further on -

He likes a Boggy Acre

A Floor too cool for corn -

Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot -

I more than once at Noon

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 -

1624

Apparently with no surprise

To any happy Flower

The Frost beheads it at its play --

In accidental power --

The blonde Assassin passes on --

The Sun proceeds unmoved

To measure off another Day

For an Approving God.