Some Poems by Emily Dickinson
Posted by voidmanufacturing on July 22, 2008
A WORD. A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That dayA BOOK. There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears a human soul!Upon the gallows hung a wretch, Too sullied for the hell To which the law entitled him. As nature's curtain fell The one who bore him tottered in, For this was woman's son. ''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped; Oh, what a livid boon!To help our bleaker parts Salubrious hours are given, Which if they do not fit for earth Drill silently for heaven.WHO? My friend must be a bird, Because it flies! Mortal my friend must be, Because it dies! Barbs has it, like a bee. Ah, curious friend, Thou puzzlest me!COBWEBS. The spider as an artist Has never been employed Though his surpassing merit Is freely certified By every broom and Bridget Throughout a Christian land. Neglected son of genius, I take thee by the hand.