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Dickinson's Poetry
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Part I, Section 4:
TIME AND ETERNITY.
 
I.1
One dignity delays for all,
One mitred afternoon.
None can avoid this purple,
None evade this crown.5
Coach it insures, and footmen,
Chamber and state and throng;
Bells, also, in the village,
As we ride grand along.
What dignified attendants,10
What service when we pause!
How loyally at parting
Their hundred hats they raise!
How pomp surpassing ermine,
When simple you and I15
Present our meek escutcheon,
And claim the rank to die!
II.
TOO LATE.
Delayed till she had ceased to know,20
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!25
Could she have guessed that it would be;
Could but a crier of the glee
Have climbed the distant hill;
Had not the bliss so slow a pace,—
Who knows but this surrendered face30
Were undefeated still?
Oh, if there may departing be
Any forgot by victory
In her imperial round,
Show them this meek apparelled thing,35
That could not stop to be a king,
Doubtful if it be crowned!
III.
ASTRA CASTRA.
Departed to the judgment,40
A mighty afternoon;
Great clouds like ushers leaning,
Creation looking on.
The flesh surrendered, cancelled,
The bodiless begun;45
Two worlds, like audiences, disperse
And leave the soul alone.
IV.
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,50
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine;
Babbles the bee in a stolid ear;
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadence,—55
Ah, what sagacity perished here!
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.60
V.
On this long storm the rainbow rose,
On this late morn the sun;
The clouds, like listless elephants,
Horizons straggled down.65
The birds rose smiling in their nests,
The gales indeed were done;
Alas! how heedless were the eyes
On whom the summer shone!
The quiet nonchalance of death70
No daybreak can bestir;
The slow archangel's syllables
Must awaken her.
VI.
FROM THE CHRYSALIS.75
My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
I'm feeling for the air;
A dim capacity for wings
Degrades the dress I wear.
A power of butterfly must be80
The aptitude to fly,
Meadows of majesty concedes
And easy sweeps of sky.
So I must baffle at the hint
And cipher at the sign,85
And make much blunder, if at last
I take the clew divine.
VII.
SETTING SAIL.
Exultation is the going90
Of an inland soul to sea,—
Past the houses, past the headlands,
Into deep eternity!
Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand95
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?
VIII.
Look back on time with kindly eyes,
He doubtless did his best;100
How softly sinks his trembling sun
In human nature's west!
IX.
A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,105
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the churchyard rang;
And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Doubtless, he thought it meet of him110
To say good-by to men.
X.
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain115
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.120
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
XI.125
"TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS."
How many times these low feet staggered,
Only the soldered mouth can tell;
Try! can you stir the awful rivet?
Try! can you lift the hasps of steel?130
Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often,
Lift, if you can, the listless hair;
Handle the adamantine fingers
Never a thimble more shall wear.
Buzz the dull flies on the chamber window;135
Brave shines the sun through the freckled pane;
Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling—
Indolent housewife, in daisies lain!
XII.
REAL.140
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.145
Impossible to feign
The beads upon the forehead
By homely anguish strung.
XIII.
THE FUNERAL.150
That short, potential stir
That each can make but once,
That bustle so illustrious
'T is almost consequence,
Is the eclat of death.155
Oh, thou unknown renown
That not a beggar would accept,
Had he the power to spurn!
XIV.
I went to thank her,160
But she slept;
Her bed a funnelled stone,
With nosegays at the head and foot,
That travellers had thrown,
Who went to thank her;165
But she slept.
'T was short to cross the sea
To look upon her like, alive,
But turning back 't was slow.
XV.170
I've seen a dying eye
Run round and round a room
In search of something, as it seemed,
Then cloudier become;
And then, obscure with fog,175
And then be soldered down,
Without disclosing what it be,
'T were blessed to have seen.
XVI.
REFUGE.180
The clouds their backs together laid,
The north begun to push,
The forests galloped till they fell,
The lightning skipped like mice;
The thunder crumbled like a stuff—185
How good to be safe in tombs,
Where nature's temper cannot reach,
Nor vengeance ever comes!
XVII.
I never saw a moor,190
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;195
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.
XVIII.
PLAYMATES.
God permits industrious angels200
Afternoons to play.
I met one,—forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightway.
God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;205
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing Crown!
XIX.
To know just how he suffered would be dear;
To know if any human eyes were near210
To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze,
Until it settled firm on Paradise.
To know if he was patient, part content,
Was dying as he thought, or different;
Was it a pleasant day to die,215
And did the sunshine face his way?
What was his furthest mind, of home, or God,
Or what the distant say
At news that he ceased human nature
On such a day?220
And wishes, had he any?
Just his sigh, accented,
Had been legible to me.
And was he confident until
Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?225
And if he spoke, what name was best,
What first,
What one broke off with
At the drowsiest?
Was he afraid, or tranquil?230
Might he know
How conscious consciousness could grow,
Till love that was, and love too blest to be,
Meet—and the junction be Eternity?
XX.235
The last night that she lived,
It was a common night,
Except the dying; this to us
Made nature different.
We noticed smallest things,—240
Things overlooked before,
By this great light upon our minds
Italicized, as 't were.
That others could exist
While she must finish quite,245
A jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite.
We waited while she passed;
It was a narrow time,
Too jostled were our souls to speak,250
At length the notice came.
She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, shivered scarce,
Consented, and was dead.255
And we, we placed the hair,
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was,
Our faith to regulate.
XXI.260
THE FIRST LESSON.
Not in this world to see his face
Sounds long, until I read the place
Where this is said to be
But just the primer to a life265
Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
Clasped yet to him and me.
And yet, my primer suits me so
I would not choose a book to know
Than that, be sweeter wise;270
Might some one else so learned be,
And leave me just my A B C,
Himself could have the skies.
XXII.
The bustle in a house275
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,—
The sweeping up the heart,
And putting love away280
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
XXIII.
I reason, earth is short,
And anguish absolute,285
And many hurt;
But what of that?
I reason, we could die:
The best vitality
Cannot excel decay;290
But what of that?
I reason that in heaven
Somehow, it will be even,
Some new equation given;
But what of that?295
XXIV.
Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?
Not death; for who is he?
The porter of my father's lodge
As much abasheth me.300
Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or more existences
At Deity's decree.
Of resurrection? Is the east305
Afraid to trust the morn
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my crown!
XXV.
DYING.310
The sun kept setting, setting still;
No hue of afternoon
Upon the village I perceived,—
From house to house 't was noon.
The dusk kept dropping, dropping still;315
No dew upon the grass,
But only on my forehead stopped,
And wandered in my face.
My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still,
My fingers were awake;320
Yet why so little sound myself
Unto my seeming make?
How well I knew the light before!
I could not see it now.
'T is dying, I am doing; but325
I'm not afraid to know.
XXVI.
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar
Until the morning sun,
When one turned smiling to the land.330
O God, the other one!
The stray ships passing spied a face
Upon the waters borne,
With eyes in death still begging raised,
And hands beseeching thrown.335
XXVII.
THE CHARIOT.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves340
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.345
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused before a house that seemed350
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day355
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
XXVIII.
She went as quiet as the dew
From a familiar flower.360
Not like the dew did she return
At the accustomed hour!
She dropt as softly as a star
From out my summer's eve;
Less skilful than Leverrier365
It's sorer to believe!
XXIX.
RESURGAM.
At last to be identified!
At last, the lamps upon thy side,370
The rest of life to see!
Past midnight, past the morning star!
Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues there are
Between our feet and day!
XXX.375
Except to heaven, she is nought;
Except for angels, lone;
Except to some wide-wandering bee,
A flower superfluous blown;
Except for winds, provincial;380
Except by butterflies,
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the acre lies.
The smallest housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the lawn,385
And somebody has lost the face
That made existence home!
XXXI.
Death is a dialogue between
The spirit and the dust.390
"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir,
I have another trust."
Death doubts it, argues from the ground.
The Spirit turns away,
Just laying off, for evidence,395
An overcoat of clay.
XXXII.
It was too late for man,
But early yet for God;
Creation impotent to help,400
But prayer remained our side.
How excellent the heaven,
When earth cannot be had;
How hospitable, then, the face
Of our old neighbor, God!405
XXXIII.
ALONG THE POTOMAC.
When I was small, a woman died.
To-day her only boy
Went up from the Potomac,410
His face all victory,
To look at her; how slowly
The seasons must have turned
Till bullets clipt an angle,
And he passed quickly round!415
If pride shall be in Paradise
I never can decide;
Of their imperial conduct,
No person testified.
But proud in apparition,420
That woman and her boy
Pass back and forth before my brain,
As ever in the sky.
XXXIV.
The daisy follows soft the sun,425
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet.
He, waking, finds the flower near.
"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?"
"Because, sir, love is sweet!"430
We are the flower, Thou the sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline,
We nearer steal to Thee,—
Enamoured of the parting west,
The peace, the flight, the amethyst,435
Night's possibility!
XXXV.
EMANCIPATION.
No rack can torture me,
My soul's at liberty440
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one
You cannot prick with saw,
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be;445
Bind one, and one will flee.
The eagle of his nest
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou,450
Except thyself may be
Thine enemy;
Captivity is consciousness,
So's liberty.
XXXVI.455
LOST.
I lost a world the other day.
Has anybody found?
You'll know it by the row of stars
Around its forehead bound.460
A rich man might not notice it;
Yet to my frugal eye
Of more esteem than ducats.
Oh, find it, sir, for me!
XXXVII.465
If I should n't be alive
When the robins come,
Give the one in red cravat
A memorial crumb.
If I could n't thank you,470
Being just asleep,
You will know I'm trying
With my granite lip!
XXXVIII.
Sleep is supposed to be,475
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.
Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!480
Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the day.
Morning has not occurred!
That shall aurora be485
East of eternity;
One with the banner gay,
One in the red array,—
That is the break of day.
XXXIX.490
I shall know why, when time is over,
And I have ceased to wonder why;
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky.
He will tell me what Peter promised,495
And I, for wonder at his woe,
I shall forget the drop of anguish
That scalds me now, that scalds me now.
XL.
I never lost as much but twice,500
And that was in the sod;
Twice have I stood a beggar
Before the door of God!
Angels, twice descending,
Reimbursed my store.505
Burglar, banker, father,
I am poor once more!
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