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)
She sights a Bird - she chuckles - She flattens - then she crawls - She runs without the look of feet - Her eyes increase to Balls - Her Mouth stirs - longing - hungry - Her Teeth can hardly stand - She leaps, but Robin leaped the first - Ah, Pussy, of the Sand,
The Hopes so juicy ripening - You almost bathed your Tongue - When Bliss disclosed a hundred Wings - And fled with every one.
He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, Accepted so - I dwelt - upon his breast - It was a boundless place to me And silenced, as the awful Sea Puts minor streams to rest.
And now, I'm different from before, As if I breathed superior air - Or brushed a Royal Gown - My feet, too, that had wandered so - My Gypsy face - transfigured now - To tenderer Renown -
Into this Port, if I might come, Rebecca, to Jerusalem, Would not so ravished turn - Nor Persian, baffled at her shrine Lift such a Crucifixal sign To her imperial Sun.
He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, Accepted so - I dwelt - upon his breast - It was a boundless place to me And silenced, as the awful Sea Puts minor streams to rest.
And now, I'm different from before, As if I breathed superior air - Or brushed a Royal Gown - My feet, too, that had wandered so - My Gypsy face - transfigured now - To tenderer Renown -
Would not paint - a picture - I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell - delicious - on - And wonder how the fingers feel Whose rare - celestial - stir - Evokes so sweet a Torment - Such sumptuous - Despair - I would not talk, like Cornets - I'd rather be the One Raised softly to Horizons - And out, and easy on - Through Villages of Ether - Myself upborne Balloon By but a lip of Metal - The pier to my Pontoon -
Nor would I be a Poet - It's finer - own the Ear - Enamored - impotent - content - The License to revere, A privilege so awful What would the Dower be, Had I the Art to stun myself With Bolts - of Melody.
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 praises as he goes,
Till every spice is tasted - And then his Fairy Gig Reels in remoter atmospheres - And I rejoin my Dog,
And He and I, perplex us If positive, 'twere we - Or bore the Garden in the Brain This Curiosity -
But He, the best Logician, Refers my clumsy eye - To just vibrating Blossoms! An Exquisite Reply!
Those fair - fictitious People - The Women - plucked away From our familiar Lifetime - The Men of Ivory - Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas - Who stay upon the Wall In Everlasting Keepsake - Can Anybody tell?
We trust - in places perfecter - Inheriting Delight Beyond our faint Conjecture - Our dizzy Estimate -
Remembering ourselves, we trust - Yet Blesseder - than We - Through Knowing - where We only hope - Receiving - where we - pray -
Of Expectation - also - Anticipating us With transport, that would be a pain Except for Holiness -
Esteeming us - as Exile - Themself - admitted Home - Through gentle Miracle of Death - The Way ourself, must come.
I envy Seas, whereon He rides - I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey - I envy Crooked Hills That gaze upon His journey - How easy all can see What is forbidden utterly As Eden - unto me!
I envy Nests of Sparrows - That dot His distant Eaves - The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane - The happy - happy Leaves -
That just abroad His Window Have Summer's leave to play - The Ear Rings of Pizarro Could not obtain for me -
I envy Light - that wakes Him - And Bells - that boldly ring To tell Him it is Noon, abroad - Myself - be Noon to Him -
Yet interdict - my Blossom - And abrogate - my Bee - Lest Noon in Everlasting Night - Drop Gabriel - and Me.
He strained my faith - Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust - Did it then - yield? Hurled my belief - But - did he shatter - it? Racked - with suspense - Not a nerve failed!
Wrung me - with Anguish - But I never doubted him - [Or - Must be - I deserved - it -] Thò for what wrong He did never say -
Stabbed - while I sued His sweet forgiveness - Jesus - it's your little "John"! Don't you know - me? [Why - Slay - Me?]
As far from pity, as complaint - As cool to speech - as stone - As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone - As far from Time - as History - As near yourself - Today - As Children, to the Rainbow's scarf - Or Sunset's Yellow play
To eyelids in the Sepulchre - How dumb the Dancer lies - While Color's Revelations break - And blaze - the Butterflies!
Alone, I cannot be - For Hosts - do visit me - Recordless Company - Who baffle Key - They have no Robes, nor Names - No Almanacs - nor Climes - But general Homes Like Gnomes -
Their Coming, may be known By Couriers within - Their going - is not - For they're never gone.