Emily Dickinson

To Make a Prairie

I NEVER saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

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 bridges,
   And never I mind the sea;
Held fast in everlasting race
   By my own choice and thee.

Good-by 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!

TO make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.

TO lose one's faith surpasses
   The loss of an estate,
Because estates can be
   Replenished, faith cannot.

Inherited with life,
   Belief but once can be;
Annihilate a single clause,
   And Being's beggary.

AFRAID? Of whom am I afraid?
Not death; for who is he?
The porter of my father's lodge
As much abasheth me.

Of life? T'were odd I fear a thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or more existences
At Deity's decree.

Of resurrection? Is the east
Afraid to trust the morn
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my crown!

I DIED for Beauty

I DIED for beauty, but was scarce 
Adjusted in the tomb, 
When one who died for truth was lain 
In an adjoining room. 
  
He questioned softly why I failed?        
"For beauty," I replied. 
"And I for truth, the two are one; 
We brethren are," he said. 
  
And so, as kinsmen met a night, 
We talked between the rooms,        
Until the moss had reached our lips, 
And covered up our names.
 

The Single Hound
 
ADVENTURE most unto itself 
The Soul condemned to be; 
Attended by a Single Hound? 
Its own Identity.
The Single Hound

THE SOUL that Has a Guest
 
THE SOUL that has a Guest, 
Doth seldom go abroad, 
Diviner Crowd at home 
Obliterate the need, 
And courtesy forbid       
A Host's departure, when 
Upon Himself be visiting 
The Emperor of Men!

EXHILARATION is the Breeze

EXHILARATION is the Breeze 
That lifts us from the ground, 
And leaves us in another place 
Whose statement is not found; 
Returns us not, but after time     
We soberly descend, 
A little newer for the term