Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 51
Chapter 91 of 146 · 1 min read
THE BLUE JAY.
No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us A February day, The brother of the universe Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate; I 've often seen them play When heaven looked upon us all With such severity,
I felt apology were due To an insulted sky, Whose pompous frown was nutriment To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head Is pungent evergreens; His larder — terse and militant — Unknown, refreshing things;
His character a tonic, His future a dispute; Unfair an immortality That leaves this neighbor out.
IV. TIME AND ETERNITY.
I.
Let down the bars, O Death! The tired flocks come in Whose bleating ceases to repeat, Whose wandering is done.
Thine is the stillest night, Thine the securest fold; Too near thou art for seeking thee, Too tender to be told.
