Poems of Emily Dickinson, series 2 | Page 6

the fear to justify, --?The palm without the Calvary;
So, Saviour, crucify.
Defeat whets victory, they say;?The reefs in old Gethsemane
Endear the shore beyond.?'T is beggars banquets best define;?'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, --
Faith faints to understand.
XXV.
SHIPWRECK.
It tossed and tossed, --?A little brig I knew, --?O'ertook by blast,?It spun and spun,?And groped delirious, for morn.
It slipped and slipped,?As one that drunken stepped;?Its white foot tripped,?Then dropped from sight.
Ah, brig, good-night?To crew and you;?The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue,?To break for you.
XXVI.
Victory comes late,?And is held low to freezing lips?Too rapt with frost?To take it.?How sweet it would have tasted,?Just a drop!?Was God so economical??His table 's spread too high for us?Unless we dine on tip-toe.?Crumbs fit such little mouths,?Cherries suit robins;?The eagle's golden breakfast?Strangles them.?God keeps his oath to sparrows,?Who of little love?Know how to starve!
XXVII.
ENOUGH.
God gave a loaf to every bird,?But just a crumb to me;?I dare not eat it, though I starve, --?My poignant luxury?To own it, touch it, prove the feat?That made the pellet mine, --?Too happy in my sparrow chance?For ampler coveting.
It might be famine all around,?I could not miss an ear,?Such plenty smiles upon my board,?My garner shows so fair.?I wonder how the rich may feel, --?An Indiaman -- an Earl??I deem that I with but a crumb?Am sovereign of them all.
XXVIII.
Experiment to me?Is every one I meet.?If it contain a kernel??The figure of a nut
Presents upon a tree,?Equally plausibly;?But meat within is requisite,?To squirrels and to me.
XXIX.
MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.
My country need not change her gown,?Her triple suit as sweet?As when 't was cut at Lexington,?And first pronounced "a fit."
Great Britain disapproves "the stars;"?Disparagement discreet, --?There 's something in their attitude?That taunts her bayonet.
XXX.
Faith is a fine invention?For gentlemen who see;?But microscopes are prudent?In an emergency!
XXXI.
Except the heaven had come so near,?So seemed to choose my door,?The distance would not haunt me so;?I had not hoped before.
But just to hear the grace depart?I never thought to see,?Afflicts me with a double loss;?'T is lost, and lost to me.
XXXII.
Portraits are to daily faces?As an evening west?To a fine, pedantic sunshine?In a satin vest.
XXXIII.
THE DUEL.
I took my power in my hand.?And went against the world;?'T was not so much as David had,?But I was twice as bold.
I aimed my pebble, but myself?Was all the one that fell.?Was it Goliath was too large,?Or only I too small?
XXXIV.
A shady friend for torrid days?Is easier to find?Than one of higher temperature?For frigid hour of mind.
The vane a little to the east?Scares muslin souls away;?If broadcloth breasts are firmer?Than those of organdy,
Who is to blame? The weaver??Ah! the bewildering thread!?The tapestries of paradise?So notelessly are made!
XXXV.
THE GOAL.
Each life converges to some centre?Expressed or still;?Exists in every human nature?A goal,
Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,?Too fair?For credibility's temerity?To dare.
Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,?To reach?Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment?To touch,
Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;?How high?Unto the saints' slow diligence?The sky!
Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,?But then,?Eternity enables the endeavoring?Again.
XXXVI.
SIGHT.
Before I got my eye put out,?I liked as well to see?As other creatures that have eyes,?And know no other way.
But were it told to me, to-day,?That I might have the sky?For mine, I tell you that my heart?Would split, for size of me.
The meadows mine, the mountains mine, --?All forests, stintless stars,?As much of noon as I could take?Between my finite eyes.
The motions of the dipping birds,?The lightning's jointed road,?For mine to look at when I liked, --?The news would strike me dead!
So safer, guess, with just my soul?Upon the window-pane?Where other creatures put their eyes,?Incautious of the sun.
XXXVII.
Talk with prudence to a beggar?Of 'Potosi' and the mines!?Reverently to the hungry?Of your viands and your wines!
Cautious, hint to any captive?You have passed enfranchised feet!?Anecdotes of air in dungeons?Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!
XXXVIII.
THE PREACHER.
He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, --?The broad are too broad to define;?And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, --?The truth never flaunted a sign.
Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence?As gold the pyrites would shun.?What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus?To meet so enabled a man!
XXXIX.
Good night! which put the candle out??A jealous zephyr, not a doubt.
Ah! friend, you little knew?How long at that celestial wick?The angels labored diligent;
Extinguished, now, for you!
It might have been the lighthouse spark?Some sailor, rowing in the dark,
Had importuned to see!?It might have been the waning lamp?That lit the drummer from the camp
To purer reveille!
XL.
When I hoped I feared,?Since I hoped I dared;?Everywhere alone?As a church remain;?Spectre cannot harm,?Serpent cannot charm;?He deposes doom,?Who hath suffered him.
XLI.
DEED.
A deed knocks first at thought,?And then it knocks at will.?That is the manufacturing spot,?And will at home and well.
It then goes out an act,?Or is entombed so still?That only to the ear of God?Its doom is audible.
XLII.
TIME'S LESSON.
Mine enemy is growing old, --?I have at last revenge.?The palate