(59) THE moon upon her fluent route Defiant of a road, The stars Etruscan argument, Substantiate a God. If Aims impel these Astral Ones, The Ones allowed to know, Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now.
-Emily Dickinson
LIGHTLY stepped a yellow star
(58) LIGHTLY stepped a yellow star To its lofty place, Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral face. All of evening softly lit As an astral hall— “Father,” I observed to Heaven, “You are punctual.”
-Emily Dickinson
THE hills erect their purple heads
(57) THE hills erect their purple heads, The Rivers lean to see— Yet Man has not, of all the throng, A curiosity.
-Emily Dickinson
OF this is Day composed
(56) OF this is Day composed— A morning and a noon, A Revelry unspeakable And then a gay Unknown; Whose Pomps allure and spurn— And dower and deprive, And penury for glory Remedilessly leave.
-Emily Dickinson
I SEND two Sunsets
(55) I SEND two Sunsets— Day and I in competition ran, I finished two, and several stars, While He was making one. His own is ampler— But, as I was saying to a friend, Mine is the more convenien To carry in the hand. (Sent with brilliant flowers.)
-Emily Dickinson
A CAP of lead across the sky
(54) A CAP of lead across the sky Was tight and surly drawn, We could not find the Mighty Face, The figure was withdrawn. A chill came up as from a shaft, Our noon became a well, A thunder storm combines the charms Of Winter and of Hell.
-Emily Dickinson
THE long sigh of the Frog
(53) THE long sigh of the Frog Upon a Summer’s day, Enacts intoxication Upon the revery. But his receding swell Substantiates a peace, That makes the ear inordinate For corporal release.
-Emily Dickinson
SO, from the mould
(52) SO, from the mould, Scarlet and gold Many a Bulb will rise, Hidden away cunningly From sagacious eyes. So, from cocoon Many a Worm Leap so Highland gay, Peasants like me— Peasants like thee, Gaze perplexedly.
-Emily Dickinson
I THINK that the root of the Wind is Water
(51) I THINK that the root of the Wind is Water, It would not sound so deep Were it a firmamental product, Airs no Oceans keep— Mediterranean intonations, To a Current’s ear There is a maritime conviction In the atmosphere.
-Emily Dickinson
THE winds drew off
(50) THE winds drew off Like hungry dogs Defeated of a bone. Through fissures in Volcanic cloud The yellow lightning shown. The trees held up Their mangled limbs Like animals in pain, When Nature falls Upon herself, Beware an Austrian!
-Emily Dickinson