Poesie di Emily Dickinson

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)
Questo autore lo trovi anche in Frasi & Aforismi e in Proverbi.

Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
Tell as a Marksman - were forgotten
Tell - this Day endures
Ruddy as that Coeval Apple
The Tradition bears -
Fresh as Mankind that humble story
While a statelier Tale
Grown in the Repetition hoary
Scarcely would prevail -

Tell had a son - The ones that knew it
Need not linger here -
Those who did not to Human nature
Will subscribe a Tear -

Tell would not bare his Head
In Presence
Of the Ducal Hat -
Threatened for that with Death - by Gessler -
Tyranny bethought

Make of his only Boy a Target
That surpasses Death -
Stolid to Love's supreme entreaty
Not forsook of Faith -

Mercy of the Almighty begging -
Tell his Arrow sent -
God it is said replies in Person
When the Cry is meant.
Emily Dickinson
Vota la poesia: Commenta
    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    What did They do since I saw Them?
    Were They industrious?
    So many questions to put Them
    Have I the Eagerness
    That could I snatch Their Faces
    That could Their lips reply
    Not till the last was answered
    Should They start for the Sky -

    Not if the Just suspect Me
    And offer a Reward
    Would I restore my Booty
    To that Bold Person, God,

    Not if Their Party were waiting,
    Not if to talk with Me
    Were to Them now, Homesickness
    After Eternity.
    Emily Dickinson
    Vota la poesia: Commenta
      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      I could not prove the Years had feet -
      Yet confident they run
      Am I, from symptoms that are past
      And Series that are done -
      I find my feet have further Goals -
      I smile upon the Aims
      That felt so ample - Yesterday -
      Today's - have vaster claims -

      I do not doubt the Self I was
      Was competent to me -
      But something awkward in the fit -
      Proves that - outgrown - I see.
      Emily Dickinson
      Vota la poesia: Commenta
        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        I measure every Grief I meet
        With narrow, probing, Eyes -
        I wonder if It weighs like Mine -
        Or has an Easier size -
        I wonder if They bore it long -
        Or did it just begin -
        I could not tell the Date of Mine -
        It feels so old a pain -

        I wonder if it hurts to live -
        And if They have to try -
        And whether - could They choose between -
        It would not be - to die -

        I note that Some - gone patient long -
        At length, renew their smile -
        An imitation of a Light
        That has so little Oil -

        I wonder if when Years have piled -
        Some Thousands - on the Harm -
        That hurt them Early - such a lapse
        Could give them any Balm -

        Or would they go on aching still
        Through Centuries of Nerve -
        Enlightened to a larger Pain -
        In Contrast with the Love -

        The Grieved - are many - I am told -
        There is the various Cause -
        Death - is but one - and comes but once -
        And only nails the eyes -

        There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold -
        A sort they call "Despair" -
        There's Banishment from native Eyes -
        In sight of Native Air -

        And though I may not guess the kind -
        Correctly - yet to me
        A piercing Comfort it affords
        In passing Calvary -

        To note the fashions - of the Cross -
        And how they're mostly worn -
        Still fascinated to presume
        That Some - are like My Own.
        Emily Dickinson
        Vota la poesia: Commenta