Poets' Corner - Emily Dickinson

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Editor's Note: poems marked with [cc] have been corrected to agree with reproductions of Dickinson's original Fascicles. In those cases the spelling, capitalization, wording, and of course punctuation are accurately hers, and not the 'improvements' of later publishers --Steve

She sweeps with many-colored Brooms [cc]

SHE sweeps with many-colored Brooms--
And leaves the Shreds behind--
Oh Housewife in the Evening West--
Come back, and dust the Pond!
You dropped a Purple Ravelling in--
You dropped an Amber thread--
And now you've littered all the east
With Duds of Emerald!
And still she plies her spotted Brooms,
And still the Aprons fly,
Till Brooms fade softly into stars--
And then I come away--: Emily Dickinson (1861)

There's a certain Slant of light [cc]

THERE'S a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That opresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us--
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the meanings are--
None may teach it--Any--
'Tis the Seal Despair--
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air--
When it comes, the Landscape listens--
Shadows--hold their breath--
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death--: Emily Dickinson (1861)

The Spider holds a Silver Ball [cc]

THE Spider holds a Silver Ball
In unperceived Hands--
And dancing softly to Himself
His Yarn of Pearl--unwinds--
He plies from Nought to Nought--
In unsubstantial Trade--
Supplants our Tapestries with His--
In half the period--
An Hour to rear supreme
His Continents of Light--
Then dangle from the Housewife's Broom--
His Boundaries--forgot--: Emily Dickinson (1862)

Pain [cc]

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.: Emily Dickinson (1862)

A Route of Evanescence

A ROUTE of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel--
A Resonance of Emerald--
A Rush of Cochineal--
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head--
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride--: Emily Dickinson [pub. 1891]

Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church (#324)

SOME keep the Sabbath going to Church--
I keep it, staying at Home--
With a Bobolink for a Chorister--
And an Orchard, for a Dome--
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice--
I just wear my Wings--
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton--sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman--
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last--
I'm going, all along.: Emily Dickinson

Wild Nights (#249)

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!: Emily Dickinson

Split the Lark

SPLIT the Lark--and you'll find the Music--
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled--
Scantily dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.
Loose the Flood--you shall find it patent--
Gush after Gush, reserved for you--
Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas!
Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true?: Emily Dickinson