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)
How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand, Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye - Members of the Invisible, Existing, while we stare, In Leagueless Opportunity, O'ertakenless, as the Air -
Why did'nt we detain Them? The Heavens with a smile, Sweep by our disappointed Heads Without a syllable -.
'Tis so appalling - it exhilarates - So over Horror, it half Captivates - The Soul stares after it, secure - To know the worst, leaves no dread more - To scan a Ghost, is faint - But grappling, conquers it - How easy, Torment, now - Suspense kept sawing so -
The Truth, is Bald, and Cold - But that will hold - If any are not sure - We show them - prayer - But we, who know, Stop hoping, now -
Looking at Death, is Dying - Just let go the Breath - And not the pillow at your Cheek So Slumbereth -
Others, Can wrestle - Your's, is done - And so of Wo, bleak dreaded - come, It sets the Fright at liberty - And Terror's free - Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading - treading - till it seemed That Sense was breaking through - And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum - Kept beating - beating - till I thought My Mind was going numb -
And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space - began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race Wrecked, solitary, here -
And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down - And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing - then.
Annoda i Lacci alla mia Vita, Signore, Poi, sarò pronta ad andare! Solo un'occhiata ai Cavalli - In fretta! Potrà bastare! Mettimi dal lato più sicuro - Così non cadrò - Visto che dobbiamo cavalcare verso il Giudizio - E una parte, è in discesa - Ma non mi curo dei precipizi - E non mi curo del Mare - Sorretta saldamente nell'Immortale Corsa - Dalla mia stessa Scelta, e da Te - Addio alla Vita che ho vissuto - E al Mondo che ho conosciuto - E Baciate le Colline, per me, basta una volta - Ora - sono pronta ad andare!
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord, Then, I am ready to go! Just a look at the Horses - Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side - So I shall never fall - For we must ride to the Judgment - And it's partly, down Hill -
But never I mind the steepest - And never I mind the Sea - Held fast in Everlasting Race - By my own Choice, and Thee -
Goodbye to the Life I used to live - And the World I used to know - And kiss the Hills, for me, just once - Now - I am ready to go!
A Shady friend - for Torrid days - Is easier to find - Than one of higher temperature For Frigid - hour of Mind - The Vane a little to the East - Scares Muslin souls - away - If Broadcloth Hearts are firmer - Than those of Organdy -
Who is to blame? The Weaver? Ah, the bewildering thread! The Tapestries of Paradise So notelessly - are made.
What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate - And pass escaped - to thee! What if I file this Mortal - off - See where it hurt me - That's enough - And wade in Liberty!
They cannot take me - any more! Dungeons can call - and Guns implore Unmeaning - now - to me -
As laughter - was - an hour ago - Or Laces - or a Travelling Show - Or who died - yesterday!
Many a phrase has the English language - I have heard but one - Low as the laughter of the Cricket, Loud, as the Thunder's Tongue - Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs, When the Tide's a' lull - Saying itself in new inflection - Like a Whippowil -
Breaking in bright Orthography On my simple sleep - Thundering it's Prospective - Till I stir, and weep -
Not for the Sorrow, done me - But the push of Joy - Say it again, Saxon! Hush - Only to me!
Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life - Poured thee, without a stint - The whole of me - forever - What more the Woman can, Say quick, that I may dower thee With last Delight I own! It cannot be my Spirit - For that was thine, before - I ceded all of Dust I knew - What Opulence the more Had I - a freckled Maiden, Whose farthest of Degree, Was - that she might - Some distant Heaven, Dwell timidly, with thee!
Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot! Strain till your last Surmise - Drop, like a Tapestry, away, Before the Fire's Eyes - Winnow her finest fondness - But hallow just the snow Intact, in Everlasting flake - Oh, Caviler, for you!
The only Ghost I ever saw Was dressed in Mechlin - so - He had no sandal on his foot - And stepped like flakes of snow - His Gait - was soundless, like a Bird - But rapid - like the Roe - His fashions, quaint, Mosaic - Or haply, Mistletoe -
His conversation - seldom - His laughter, like the Breeze - That dies away in Dimples Among the pensive Trees -
Our interview - was transient - Of me, himself was shy - And God forbid I look behind - Since that appalling Day!