Dictionary Poems

TAKE a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals. Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs,Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse. Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house,The level even house,To the last house of all. The dead say nothing And … Continued

The surest thing there is is we are riders,And though none too successful at it, guiders,Through everything presented, land and tideAnd now the very air, of what we ride. What is this talked-of mystery of birthBut being mounted bareback on the earth?We can just see the infant up astride,His small fist buried in the bushy … Continued

THE props assist the houseUntil the house is built,And then the props withdraw–And adequate, erect,The house supports itself;Ceasing to recollectThe auger and the carpenter.Just such a retrospectHath the perfected life,A past of plank and nail,And slowness,–then the scaffolds drop–Affirming it a soul. – THE props assist the house by Emily Dickinson

Color of lemon, mango, peach,These storybook villasStill dream behindShutters, thier balconiesFine as hand-Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds,On arrowy stems,Pineapple-barked,A green crescent of palmsSends up its forkedFirework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawnInch by bright inchGilds all our Avenue,And out of the blue drenchOf Angels’ BayRises the round red watermelon sun. – … Continued

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloudAnd goes down burning into the gulf below,No voice in nature is heard to cry aloudAt what has happened. Birds, at least must knowIt is the change to darkness in the sky.Murmuring something quiet in her breast,One bird begins to close a faded eye;Or overtaken too … Continued

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! – A BOOK – There is no frigate like a book by Emily Dickinson

Ah, whispering, something again, unseen,Where late this heated day thou enterest at my window, door,Thou, laving, tempering all, cool-freshing, gently vitalizingMe, old, alone, sick, weak-down, melted-worn with sweat;Thou, nestling, folding close and firm yet soft, companion better than talk, book, art,(Thou hast, O Nature! elements! utterance to my heart beyond the rest–and this is of … Continued

Lo! where the Moon along the skySails with her happy destiny;Oft is she hid from mortal eyeOr dimly seen,But when the clouds asunder flyHow bright her mien! Far different we–a froward race,Thousands though rich in Fortune’s graceWith cherished sullenness of paceTheir way pursue, Ingrates who wear a smileless faceThe whole year through. If kindred humours … Continued

Poor little heart! Did they forget thee?Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little heart! Did they forsake thee?Be debonair! Be debonair! Frail little heart! I would not break thee:Could’st credit me? Could’st credit me? Gay little heart! Like morning gloryThou’ll wilted be; thou’ll wilted be! – Poor little heart! by Emily Dickinson

The two old, simple problems ever intertwined,Close home, elusive, present, baffled, grappled.By each successive age insoluble, pass’d on,To ours to-day–and we pass on the same. – Life and Death by Walt Whitman