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)
When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side, When Katie runs unwearied they follow on the road, When Katie kneels, their loving hands still clasp her pious knee - Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, with two so knit to thee!
It can't be "Summer"! That - got through! It's early - yet - for "Spring"! There's that long town of White - to cross - Before the Blackbirds sing! It can't be "Dying"! It's too Rouge - The Dead shall go in White - So Sunset shuts my question down With Cuffs of Chrysolite!
She sweeps with many-colored Brooms - And leaves the Shreds behind - Oh Housewife in the Evening West - Come back, and dust the Pond! You dropped a Purple Ravelling in - You dropped an Amber Thread - And how you've littered all the East With Duds of Emerald!
And still, she plies her spotted Brooms, And still the Aprons fly, Till Brooms fade softly into stars - And then I come away.
Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I should'nt like to come For fear of joggling Him! If you could shut him up In a Coffee Cup, Or tie him to a pin Till I got in - Or make him fast To "Toby's" fist - Hist! Whist! I'd come!
Savior! I've no one else to tell - And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so - Dost thou remember me? Nor, for myself, I came so far - That were the little load - I brought thee the imperial Heart I had not strength to hold - The Heart I carried in my own - Till mine too heavy grew - Yet - strangest - heavier since it went - Is it too large for you?
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers - Untouched by Morning And untouched by Noon - Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection - Rafter of satin, And Roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze In her Castle above them - Babbles the Bee in a stolid Ear, Pipe the Sweet Birds in ignorant cadence - Ah, what sagacity perished here!
Com'è - il "Paradiso"? Chi ci vive? Sono "Contadini"? "Zappano"? Sanno che questa è "Amherst" - E che - anch'io - sto arrivando? Calzano "scarpe nuove" - nell'"Eden"? È sempre ameno - là? Non ci rimprovereranno - quando avremo nostalgia? O diranno a Dio - quanto siamo imbronciati?
Si può esser certi che c'è qualcuno Come "un Padre" - in cielo - Così se mai - là - dovessi perdermi - O accadesse quello che la Balia chiama "morire" - Non dovrò camminare sul "Diaspro" - a piedi nudi - I redenti - non rideranno di me - Forse - nell'"Eden" non saremo così soli Come eravamo nel New England!
I taste a liquor never brewed - From Tankards scooped in Pearl - Not all the Frankfort Berries Yield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of air - am I - And Debauchee of Dew - Reeling - thro endless summer days - From inns of Molten Blue -
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove's door - When Butterflies - renounce their "drams" - I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats - And Saints - to windows run - To see the little Tippler From Manzanilla come!
Come slowly - Eden! Lips unused to Thee - Bashful - sip thy Jessamines - As the fainting Bee - Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums - Counts his nectars - Enters - and is lost in Balms.