The Himmaleh was known to stoop

481

The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low—
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent—Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ribbons of the Year

873

Ribbons of the Year—
Multitude Brocade—
Worn to Nature's Party once

Then, as flung aside
As a faded Bead
Or a Wrinkled Pearl
Who shall charge the Vanity
Of the Maker's Girl?

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Each Scar I'll keep for Him

877

Each Scar I'll keep for Him
Instead I'll say of Gem
In His long Absence worn
A Costlier one

But every Tear I bore
Were He to count them o'er
His own would fall so more
I'll mis sum them.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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That is solemn we have ended

934

That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday

Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ample make this bed.

Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Nature rarer uses yellow

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,--
Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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I cannot be ashamed

914

I cannot be ashamed
Because I cannot see
The love you offer—
Magnitude
Reverses Modesty

And I cannot be proud
Because a Height so high
Involves Alpine
Requirements
And Services of Snow.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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At last, to be identified!

174

At last, to be identified!
At last, the lamps upon thy side
The rest of Life to see!

Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!
Past Sunrise!
Ah, What leagues there were
Between our feet, and Day!

poem by Emily Dickinson
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For largest Woman's Hearth I knew

309

For largest Woman's Hearth I knew—
'Tis little I can do—
And yet the largest Woman's Heart
Could hold an Arrow—too—
And so, instructed by my own,
I tenderer, turn Me to.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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For each ecstatic instant

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ectasty.

For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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