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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
Glee - The great storm is over -
Four - have recovered the Land -
Forty - gone down together -
Into the boiling Sand -
Ring - for the scant Salvation -
Toll - for the bonnie Souls -
Neighbor - and friend - and Bridegroom -
Spinning upon the Shoals -

How they will tell the Story -
When Winter shake the Door -
Till the Children urge -
But the Forty -
Did they - come back no more?

Then a silence - suffuse the Story -
And a softness - the Teller's eye -
And the Children - no further question -
And only the Sea - reply.
Emily Dickinson
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    Dont put up my Thread & Needle -
    I'll begin to Sow
    When the Birds begin to whistle -
    Better stitches - so -
    These were bent - my sight got crooked -
    When my mind - is plain
    I'll do seams - a Queen's endeavor
    Would not blush to own -

    Hems - too fine for Lady's tracing
    To the sightless Knot -
    Tucks - of dainty interspersion -
    Like a dotted Dot -

    Leave my Needle in the furrow -
    Where I put it down -
    I can make the zigzag stitches
    Straight - when I am strong -

    Till then - dreaming I am sowing
    Fetch the seam I missed -
    Closer - so I - at my sleeping -
    Still surmise I stitch.
    Emily Dickinson
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      I rose - because He sank -
      I thought it would be opposite -
      But when his power bent -
      My Soul grew straight.
      I cheered my fainting Prince -
      I sang firm - even - Chants -
      I helped his Film - with Hymn -

      And when the Dews drew off
      That held his Forehead stiff -
      I gave him -
      Balm - for Balm -

      I told him Best - must pass
      Through this low Arch of Flesh -
      No Casque so brave
      It spurn the Grave -

      I told him Worlds I knew
      Where Emperors grew -
      Who recollected us
      If we were true -

      And so with Thews of Hymn -
      And Sinew from within -
      And ways I knew not that I knew - till then -
      I lifted Him.
      Emily Dickinson
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        Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
        Our journey had advanced -
        Our feet were almost come
        To that odd Fork in Being's Road -
        Eternity - by Term -
        Our pace took sudden awe -
        Our feet - reluctant - led -
        Before - were Cities - but Between -
        The Forest of the Dead -

        Retreat - was out of Hope -
        Behind - a Sealed Route -
        Eternity's Cool Flag - in front -
        And God - at every Gate.
        Emily Dickinson
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          Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
          In falling Timbers buried -
          There breathed a Man -
          Outside - the Spades - were plying -
          The Lungs - within -
          Could He - know - they sought Him -
          Could They - know - He breathed -
          Horrid Sand Partition -
          Neither - could be heard -

          Never slacked the Diggers -
          But when Spades had done -
          Oh, Reward of Anguish,
          It was dying - Then.
          Emily Dickinson
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            Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
            They shut me up in Prose -
            As when a little Girl
            They put me in the Closet -
            Because they liked me "still" -
            Still! Could themself have peeped -
            And seen my Brain - go round -
            They might as wise have lodged a Bird
            For Treason - in the Pound -

            Himself has but to will
            And easy as a Star
            Look down upon Captivity -
            And laugh - No more have I.
            Emily Dickinson
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              Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
              It would have starved a Gnat -
              To live so small as I -
              And yet, I was a living child -
              With Food's necessity
              Upon me - like a Claw -
              I could no more remove
              Than I could modify a Leech -
              Or make a Dragon - move -

              Not like the Gnat - had I -
              The privilege to fly
              And seek a Dinner for myself -
              How mightier He - than I!

              Nor like Himself - the Art
              Upon the Window Pane
              To gad my little Being out -
              And not begin - again -
              Emily Dickinson
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                Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
                I see thee better - in the Dark -
                I do not need a Light -
                The Love of Thee - a Prism be -
                Excelling Violet -
                I see thee better for the Years
                That pile themselves - between -
                The Miner's Lamp - sufficient be -
                To nullify the Mine -

                And in the Grave - I see Thee best -
                It's little Panels be
                Aglow - All ruddy - with the Light
                I held so high, for Thee -

                What need of Day -
                To Those whose Dark - hath so - surpassing Sun -
                It deem it be - Continually -
                At the Meridian?
                Emily Dickinson
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                  Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
                  You'll find - it when you try to die -
                  The Easier to let go -
                  For recollecting such as went -
                  You could not spare - you know.
                  And though their places somewhat filled -
                  As did their Marble names
                  With Moss - they never grew so full -
                  You chose the newer names -

                  And when this World - sets further back -
                  As Dying - say it does -
                  The former love - distincter grows -
                  And supersedes the fresh -

                  And Thought of them - so fair invites -
                  It looks too tawdry Grace
                  To stay behind - with just the Toys
                  We bought - to ease their place -
                  Emily Dickinson
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