Poetessa, nato venerdì 10 dicembre 1830 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America), morto sabato 15 maggio 1886 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America)
Than Heaven more remote, For Heaven is the Root, But these the flitted Seed, More flown indeed, Than Ones that never were, Or those that hide, and are - What madness, by their side, A vision to provide Of future Days They cannot praise -
My Soul - to find them - come - They cannot call - they're dumb - Nor prove - nor Woo - But that they have Abode - Is absolute as God - And instant - too.
Go not too near a House of Rose - The depredation of a Breeze - Or inundation of a Dew Alarm it's Walls away - Nor try to tie the Butterfly, Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy - In insecurity to lie Is Joy's insuring quality.
How brittle are the Piers On which our Faith doth tread - No Bridge below doth totter so - Yet none hath such a Crowd. It is as old as God - Indeed - 'twas built by him - He sent his Son to test the Plank - And he pronounced it firm.
With Pinions of Disdain The soul can farther fly Than any feather specified in - Ornithology - It wafts this sordid Flesh Beyond it's dull - control And during it's electric gale - The body is - a soul - instructing by itself - How little work it be - To put off filaments like this for immortality. Con le Ali del Disdegno L'anima può volare più lontano Di qualunque specie descritta dall'Ornitologia - Conduce questa sordida Carne Oltre il suo tardo - controllo E durante quell'elettrico soffio - Il corpo è - un'anima - che s'istruisce da sé - Su quale piccola fatica sia - Spogliarsi di filamenti come questi per l'immortalità.
Who never wanted - maddest Joy Remains to him unknown - The Banquet of Abstemiousness Defaces that of Wine - Within it's reach, though yet ungrasped Desire's perfect Goal - No nearer - lest the Actual - Should disenthrall thy soul.
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - It's awful chamber open stands - It's Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest In undulating Rooms Whose Amplitude no end invades - Whose Axis never comes.
To earn it by disdaining it Is Fame's consummate Fee - He loves what spurns him - Look behind - He is pursuing thee - So let us gather - every Day - The Aggregate of Life's Bouquet Be Honor and not shame.