There is no frigate like a 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.
Emily Dickinson Poems
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.
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading – treading – till it seemed That Sense was breaking through – And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thought My Mind was going numb – And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With …
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons – That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes – Heavenly Hurt, it gives us – We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are – None may teach it – Any – ‘Tis the Seal Despair – An imperial affliction Sent us of the Air – When it comes, the Landscape listens – …
We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies— The Heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the Cubits warp For fear to be a King—
One day is there of the series Termed “Thanksgiving Day” Celebrated part at table Part in memory – Neither Ancestor nor Urchin I review the Play – Seems it to my Hooded thinking Reflex Holiday Had There been no sharp subtraction From the early Sum – Not an acre or a Caption Where was once …
Two Butterflies went out at Noon— And waltzed above a Farm— Then stepped straight through the Firmament And rested on a Beam— And then—together bore away Upon a shining Sea— Though never yet, in any Port— Their coming mentioned—be— If spoken by the distant Bird— If met in Ether Sea By Frigate, or by Merchantman— …
Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay? Ah, said July— Where is the Seed— Where is the Bud— Where is the May— Answer Thee—Me— Nay—said the May— Show me the Snow— Show me the Bells— Show me the Jay! Quibbled the Jay— Where be the Maize— Where be …
That is solemn we have ended,— Be it but a play, Or a glee among the garrets, Or a holiday, Or a leaving home; or later, Parting with a world We have understood, for better Still it be unfurled.
A Drop fell on the Apple Tree – Another – on the Roof – A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves – And made the Gables laugh – A few went out to help the Brook That went to help the Sea – Myself Conjectured were they Pearls – What Necklaces could be – The …
Before the ice is in the pools, Before the skaters go, Or any cheek at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow, Before the fields have finished, Before the Christmas tree, Wonder upon wonder Will arrive to me! What we touch the hems of …