Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the Purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of Victory
As he defeated – dying – On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear.
I'm nobody! Who are you? (260)
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise - you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name - the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
“Hope” is the thing with feathers (314)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain (340)
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 –
There’s a certain Slant of light (320)
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons – That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes –
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us – We can find no scar, But internal difference – Where the Meanings, are –
None may teach it – Any – ’Tis the seal Despair – An imperial affliction Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens – Shadows – hold their breath – When it goes, ’tis like the Distance On the look of Death –
Wild Nights – Wild Nights! (269)
Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury!
Futile – the Winds – To a Heart in port – Done with the Compass – Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden – Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor – Tonight – In Thee!
This is my letter to the World (519)
This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me– The simple News that Nature told– With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed To Hands I cannot see– For love of Her– Sweet– countrymen– Judge tenderly– of Me
I dwell in Possibility (466)
I dwell in Possibility– A fairer House than Prose– More numerous of Windows– Superior– for Doors–
Of Chambers as the Cedars– Impregnable of Eye– And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky–
Of Visitors– the fairest– For Occupation– This– The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise–
I heard a Fly buzz– when I died (591)
I heard a Fly buzz– when I died– The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air – Between the Heaves of Storm–
The Eyes around– had wrung them dry– And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset– when the King Be witnessed– in the Room–
I willed my Keepsakes– Signed away What portions of me be Assignable– and then it was There interposed a Fly–
With Blue– uncertain– stumbling Buzz– Between the light– and me – And then the Windows failed – and then I could not see to see–
It was not Death, for I stood up (355)
It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down– It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh I felt Siroccos– crawl– Nor Fire– for just my Marble feet Could keep a Chancel, cool–
And yet, it tasted, like them all, The Figures I have seen Set orderly, for Burial, Reminded me, of mine–
As if my life were shaven, And fitted to a frame, And could not breathe without a key, And 'twas like Midnight, some–
When everything that ticked– has stopped– And Space stares– all around– Or Grisly frosts– first Autumn morns, Repeal the Beating Ground–
But, most, like Chaos– Stopless– cool– Without a Chance, or Spar– Or even a Report of Land– To justify– Despair.
Before I got my eye put out (336)
Before I got my eye put out– I liked as well to see As other creatures, that have eyes– And know no other way–
But were it told to me, Today, That I might have the Sky For mine, I tell you that my Heart Would split, for size of me–
The Meadows– mine – The Mountains– mine – All Forests– Stintless stars– As much of noon, as I could take– Between my finite eyes–
The Motions of the Dipping Birds– The Morning’s Amber Road– For mine– to look at when I liked, The news would strike me dead–
So safer– guess– with just my soul Opon the window pane Where other creatures put their eye – Incautious– of the Sun–
After great pain, a formal feeling comes (372)
After great pain, a formal feeling comes– The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs– The stiff Heart questions "was it He, that bore, And "Yesterday, or Centuries before"?
The Feet, mechanical, go round– A Wooden way Of Ground, or Air, or Ought– Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone–
This is the Hour of Lead– Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the snow– First– Chill– then stupor– then the letting go–
Because I could not stop for Death (479)
Because I could not stop for Death– He kindly stopped for me– The Carriage held but just Ourselves– And Immortality.
We slowly drove– He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility–
We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess– in the Ring– We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain– We passed the Setting Sun–
Or rather– He passed Us– The Dews drew quivering and Chill– For only Gossamer, my Gown– My Tippet– only Tulle–
We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground– The Roof was scarcely visible– The Cornice– in the Ground–
Since then– 'tis Centuries– and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity–
My Life has stood– a Loaded Gun (764)
My Life had stood– a Loaded Gun In Corners– till a Day The Owner passed– identified And carried Me away
And now We roam in Sovereign Woods And now We hunt the Doe And every time I speak for Him The Mountains straight reply
And do I smile, such cordial light Upon the Valley glow It is as a Vesuvian face Had let its pleasure through
And when at Night– Our good Day done I guard My Master's Head 'Tis better than the Eider-Duck's Deep Pillow– to have shared
To foe of His– I'm deadly foe None stir the second time On whom I lay a Yellow Eye Or an emphatic Thumb
Though I than He– may longer live He longer must– than I For I have but the power to kill Without–the power to die
Tell all the truth but tell it slant (1263)
Tell all the truth but tell it slant– Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind–
I died for beauty, but was scarce (448)
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.
