POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
LXXXIII
THIS world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don’t know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don’t know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.
LXXXIV
WE learn in the retreating
How vast an one
Was recently among us.
A perished sun
How vast an one
Was recently among us.
A perished sun
Endears in the departure
How doubly more
Than all the golden presence
It was before!
How doubly more
Than all the golden presence
It was before!
LXXXV
THEY say that “time assuages”,—
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens.
As sinews do, with age.
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens.
As sinews do, with age.
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