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
No Crowd that has occurred
Exhibit - I suppose
That General Attendance
That Resurrection - does -
Circumference be full -
The long restricted Grave
Assert her Vital Privilege -
The Dust - connect - and live -

On Atoms - features place -
All Multitudes that were
Efface in the Comparison -
As Suns - dissolve a star -

Solemnity - prevail -
It's Individual Doom
Possess each - separate Consciousness -
August - Resistless - dumb -

What Duplicate - exist -
What scenery can be -
Of the Significance of This -
To Universe - and Me?
Emily Dickinson
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews,
    But never deemed the dripping prize
    Awaited their - low Brows -
    Or Bees - that thought the Summer's name
    Some rumor of Delirium,
    No Summer - could - for Them -

    Or Arctic Creatures, dimly stirred -
    By Tropic Hint - some Travelled Bird
    Imported to the Wood -

    Or Wind's bright signal to the Ear -
    Making that homely, and severe,
    Contented, known, before -

    The Heaven - unexpected come,
    To Lives that thought the Worshipping
    A too presumptuous Psalm.
    Emily Dickinson
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      The Soul has Bandaged moments -
      When too appalled to stir -
      She feels some ghastly Fright come up
      And stop to look at her -
      Salute her, with long fingers -
      Caress her freezing hair -
      Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
      The Lover - hovered - o'er -
      Unworthy, that a thought so mean
      Accost a Theme - so - fair -

      The soul has moments of Escape -
      When bursting all the doors -
      She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
      And swings upon the Hours,

      As do the Bee - delirious borne -
      Long Dungeoned from his Rose -
      Touch Liberty - then know no more,
      But Noon, and Paradise -

      The Soul's retaken moments -
      When, Felon led along,
      With shackles on the plumed feet,
      And staples, in the Song,

      The Horror welcomes her, again,
      These, are not brayed of Tongue.
      Emily Dickinson
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