POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill
And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop—docile and omnipotent—
At its own stable door.
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop—docile and omnipotent—
At its own stable door.
XLIV
THE show is not the show,
But they that go.
Menagerie to me
My neighbor be.
Fair play—
Both went to see.
But they that go.
Menagerie to me
My neighbor be.
Fair play—
Both went to see.
XLV
DELIGHT becomes pictorial
When viewed through pain,—
More fair, because impossible
That any gain.
When viewed through pain,—
More fair, because impossible
That any gain.
The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,—
And that’s the skies!
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,—
And that’s the skies!
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