Emily Dickinson: She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on
She bore it till the simple veins
Traced azure on her hand -
Till pleading, round her quiet eyes
The purple crayons stand.
Till Daffodils had come and gone
I cannot tell the sum,
And then she ceased to bear it -
And with the Saints sat down.
No more her patient figure
At twilight soft to meet -
No more her timid bonnet
Upon the village street -
But crowns instead, and courtiers -
And in the midst so fair,
Whose but her shy - immortal face
Of whom we're whispering here?
Emily Dickinson
Pi� citazioni Emily Dickinson
Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New life"...
No Notice gave She, but a Change -
No Message, but a Sigh -
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill -
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And p...