Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 14
Chapter 63 of 146 · 1 min read
He put the belt around my life, — I heard the buckle snap, And turned away, imperial, My lifetime folding up Deliberate, as a duke would do A kingdom's title-deed, — Henceforth a dedicated sort, A member of the cloud.
Yet not too far to come at call, And do the little toils That make the circuit of the rest, And deal occasional smiles To lives that stoop to notice mine And kindly ask it in, — Whose invitation, knew you not For whom I must decline?
XV.
THE LOST JEWEL.
I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep."
I woke and chid my honest fingers, — The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
XVI.
What if I say I shall not wait? What if I burst the fleshly gate And pass, escaped, to thee? What if I file this mortal off, See where it hurt me, — that 's enough, — And wade in liberty?
They cannot take us any more, — Dungeons may call, and guns implore; Unmeaning now, to me, As laughter was an hour ago, Or laces, or a travelling show, Or who died yesterday!
III. NATURE.
