She rose to his requirement, dropped
The playthings of her life
To take the honorable work
Of woman and of wife.

If aught she missed in her new day
Of amplitude, or awe,
Or first prospective, or the gold
In using wore away,

It lay unmentioned, as the sea
Develops pearl and weed,
But only to himself is known
The fathoms they abide.



– THE WIFE – She rose to his requirement, dropped by Emily Dickinson



Related posts:

  1. Poem of the day – APOCALYPSE – I’m wife; I’ve finished that by Emily Dickinson I’m wife; I’ve finished that,That other state;I’m Czar, I’m woman now:It’s safer so. How odd the girl’s life looksBehind this soft eclipse!I think that earth seems soTo those in heaven now. This being comfort, thenThat other kind was pain;But why compare?I’m wife! stop there! – APOCALYPSE – I’m wife; I’ve finished that by Emily Dickinson...
  2. Poem of the day – A DAY – I’ll tell you how the sun rose by Emily Dickinson I’ll tell you how the sun rose, –A ribbon at a time.The steeples swam in amethyst,The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets,The bobolinks begun.Then I said softly to myself,That must have been the sun! * * * But how he set, I know not.There seemed a purple stileWhich little yellow boys and [...]...
  3. Poem of the day – A ROSE – A sepal, petal, and a thorn by Emily Dickinson A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer’s morn,A flash of dew, a bee or two,A breezeA caper in the trees, – And I’m a rose! – A ROSE – A sepal, petal, and a thorn by Emily Dickinson...
  4. Poem of the day – MY ROSE – Pigmy seraphs gone astray by Emily Dickinson Pigmy seraphs gone astray,Velvet people from Vevay,Belles from some lost summer day,Bees’ exclusive coterie.Paris could not lay the foldBelted down with emerald;Venice could not show a cheekOf a tint so lustrous meek.Never such an ambuscadeAs of brier and leaf displayedFor my little damask maid.I had rather wear her graceThan an earl’s distinguished face;I had rather [...]...
  5. Poem of the day – THE BATTLE-FIELD by Emily Dickinson They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose,When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, – No eye could find the place;But God on his repealless list Can summon every face. – THE BATTLE-FIELD by Emily Dickinson...