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Poesie di Emily Dickinson

Poetessa, nato venerdì 10 dicembre 1830 a Amherst, Massachusetts (Stati Uniti d'America), morto sabato 15 maggio 1886 a Amherst, Massachusetts (Stati Uniti d'America)
Questo autore lo trovi anche in Frasi & Aforismi e in Proverbi.

Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
If I may have it, when it's dead,
I'll be contented - so -
If just as soon as Breath is out
It shall belong to me -
Until they lock it in the Grave,
'Tis Bliss I cannot weigh -
For tho' they lock Thee in the Grave,
Myself - can own the key -

Think of it Lover! I and Thee
Permitted - face to face to be -
After a Life - a Death - We'll say -
For Death was That -
And This - is Thee -

I'll tell Thee All - how Bald it grew -
How Midnight felt, at first - to me -
How all the Clocks stopped in the World -
And Sunshine pinched me - 'Twas so cold -

Then how the Grief got sleepy - some -
As if my Soul were deaf and dumb -
Just making signs - it seemed - to Thee -
That this way - thou could'st notice me -

I'll tell you how I tried to keep
A smile, to show you, when this Deep
All Waded - We look back for Play,
At those Old Times - in Calvary,

Forgive me, if the Grave come slow -
For eagerness to look at Thee -
Forgive me, if to stroke thy frost
Outvisions Paradise!
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    I prayed, at first, a little Girl,
    Because they told me to -
    But stopped, when qualified to guess
    How prayer would feel - to me -
    If I believed God looked around,
    Each time my Childish eye
    Fixed full, and steady, on his own
    In Childish honesty -

    And told him what I'd like, today,
    And parts of his far plan
    That baffled me -
    The mingled side
    Of his Divinity -

    And often since, in Danger,
    I count the force 'twould be
    To have a God so strong as that
    To hold my life for me

    Till I could Catch my Balance
    That slips so easy, now,
    It takes me all the while to poise -
    And then - it does'nt stay -.
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      "Heaven" has different Signs - to me -
      Sometimes, I think that Noon
      Is but a symbol of the Place -
      And when again, at Dawn,
      A mighty look runs round the World
      And settles in the Hills -
      An Awe if it should be like that
      Upon the Ignorance steals -

      The Orchard, when the Sun is on -
      The Triumph of the Birds
      When they together Victory make -
      Some Carnivals of Clouds -

      The Rapture of a finished Day
      Returning to the West -
      All these - remind us of the place
      That Men call "Paradise" -

      Itself be fairer - we suppose -
      But how Ourself, shall be
      Adorned, for a Superior Grace -
      Not yet, our eyes can see.
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        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        My first well Day - since many ill -
        I asked to go abroad,
        And take the Sunshine in my hands
        And see the things in Pod -
        A'blossom just - when I went in
        To take my Chance with pain -
        Uncertain if myself, or He,
        Should prove the strongest One.

        The Summer deepened, while we strove -
        She put some flowers away -
        And Redder cheeked Ones - in their stead -
        A fond - illusive way -

        To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried -
        As if before a Child
        To fade - Tomorrow - Rainbows held
        The Sepulchre, could hide.

        She dealt a fashion to the Nut -
        She tied the Hoods to Seeds -
        She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about -
        And left Brazilian Threads

        On every shoulder that she met -
        Then both her Hands of Haze
        Put up - to hide her parting Grace
        From our unfitted eyes.

        My loss, by sickness - Was it Loss?
        Or that Ethereal Gain
        One earns by measuring the Grave -
        Then - measuring the Sun.
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