Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night
Had scarcely deigned to lie -
When, stirring, for Belief's delight,
My Bride had slipped away

If 'twas a Dream - made solid - just
The Heaven to confirm -
Or if Myself were dreamed of Her -
The power to presume -

With Him remain - who unto Me -
Gave - even as to All -
A Fiction superseding Faith -
By so much - as 'twas real

Now I knew I lost her -
Not that she was gone-
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.

Alien, though adjoining
As a Foreign Race
Traversed she though pausing
Latitudeless Place

Elements Unaltered
Universe the same
But Love's transmigration
Somehow this had come

Henceforth to remember
Nature took the Day
I had paid so much for-
His is Penury
Not who toils for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.

Frigid and sweet Her parting Face -
Frigid and fleet my Feet-
Alien and vain whatever Clime
Acrid whatever Fate.

Given to me without the Suit
Riches and Name and Realm-
Who was She to withold from me
Penury and Home?

To see her is a Picture
To hear her is a Tune
To know her an Intemperance
As innocent as June

To know her not - Affliction -
To own her for a Friend
A warmth as near as if the Sun
Were shining in your Hand.

She slept beneath a tree -
Remembered but by me.
I touched her cradle mute -
She recognized the foot -
Put on her carmine suit
         And see!

Wild Nights - Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our Luxury!

Futile - the Winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the Compass -
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor - Tonight -
In Thee!

There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man
It hurls its barbed syllables
And is mute again -
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted brother
Gave his breath away.

Wherever runs the breathless sun -
Wherever roams the day
There is its noiseless onset
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksmen!
The most accomplished shot!
Time's sublimest target
Is a soul "forgot!"

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed,
To comprehend a nectar
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 agonised and clear!

I had a guinea golden -
I lost it in the sand -
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land -
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye -
That when I could not find it
I sat me down to sigh

I had a crimson Robin -
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted,
He, too, did fly away -
Time brought me other Robins -
Their ballads were the same -
Still, for my missing Troubadour
I kept the "house at hame".

I had a star in heaven -
One "Pleiad" was its name -
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same.
And tho' the skies are crowded -
And all the night ashine -
I do not care about it -
Since none of them are mine.

My story has a moral -
I have a missing friend -
"Pleiad" its name, and Robin,
And guinea in the sand,
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear -
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here -
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind -
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.

Hope is the thing with feathers -
That perches on 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.

It was given to me by the Gods -
When I was a little Girl -
They gave us Presents most - you know -
When we are new - and small.
I kept it in my Hand -
I never put it down -
I did not dare to eat - or sleep -
For fear it would be gone -
I heard such words as "Rich" -
When hurrying to school -
From lips at Corners of the Streets -
And wrestled with a smile.
Rich! Twas myself - was rich -
To take the name of Gold -
And Gold to own - in solid bars -
The Difference - made me bold.

I could not prove the Years had feet -
Yet confident they run
And I, from symptoms that are past
And Series that are done -

I find my feet have further Goals -
I smile upon the Aims
That felt so ample - Yesterday -
Today's - have vaster claims -

I do not doubt the self I was
Was competent to me -
But something awkward in the fit -
Proves that - outgrown - I see -

If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot.
And if to miss, were merry,
And to mourn, were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, Today!

Snowflakes

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!

Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit - Life!

"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see -
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.

To see her is a Picture -
To hear her is a Tune -
To know her an intemperance
As innocent as June -
To know her not - Affliction -
To own her for a Friend
A warmth as near as if the Sun
Were shining in your Hand.

The Pedigree of Honey
Does not concern the Bee -
A Clover, any time, to him,
Is Aristocracy -

Pain - has an Element of Blank -
It cannot recollect
When it begun - or if there were
A time when it was not -
It has no Future - but itself -
Its Infinite contain
Its Past - enlightened to perceive
New Periods - of Pain.

Dickinson, Emily (1830-1886) was a lesbian, and one of the greatest 19th Century American poets. She wrote nearly 1800 poems, only ten of which were published during her lifetime; after her death, over 1000 were found in a bureau.

Go to Emily Dickinson's page.