Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 33
Chapter 36 of 146 · 2 min read
ALONG THE POTOMAC.
When I was small, a woman died. To-day her only boy Went up from the Potomac, His face all victory,
To look at her; how slowly The seasons must have turned Till bullets clipt an angle, And he passed quickly round!
If pride shall be in Paradise I never can decide; Of their imperial conduct, No person testified.
But proud in apparition, That woman and her boy Pass back and forth before my brain, As ever in the sky.
XXXIV.
The daisy follows soft the sun, And when his golden walk is done, Sits shyly at his feet. He, waking, finds the flower near. "Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" "Because, sir, love is sweet!"
We are the flower, Thou the sun! Forgive us, if as days decline, We nearer steal to Thee, — Enamoured of the parting west, The peace, the flight, the amethyst, Night's possibility!
XXXV.
EMANCIPATION.
No rack can torture me, My soul's at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one
You cannot prick with saw, Nor rend with scymitar. Two bodies therefore be; Bind one, and one will flee.
The eagle of his nest No easier divest And gain the sky, Than mayest thou,
Except thyself may be Thine enemy; Captivity is consciousness, So's liberty.
XXXVI.
LOST.
I lost a world the other day. Has anybody found? You'll know it by the row of stars Around its forehead bound.
A rich man might not notice it; Yet to my frugal eye Of more esteem than ducats. Oh, find it, sir, for me!
XXXVII.
If I shouldn't be alive When the robins come, Give the one in red cravat A memorial crumb.
If I couldn't thank you, Being just asleep, You will know I'm trying With my granite lip!
XXXVIII.
Sleep is supposed to be, By souls of sanity, The shutting of the eye.
Sleep is the station grand Down which on either hand The hosts of witness stand!
Morn is supposed to be, By people of degree, The breaking of the day.
Morning has not occurred! That shall aurora be East of eternity;
One with the banner gay, One in the red array, — That is the break of day.
XXXIX.
I shall know why, when time is over, And I have ceased to wonder why; Christ will explain each separate anguish In the fair schoolroom of the sky.
He will tell me what Peter promised, And I, for wonder at his woe, I shall forget the drop of anguish That scalds me now, that scalds me now.
