Quote

The Pleading of the Summer - That other Prank - of Snow - That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels - know.

Emily Dickinson

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Emily Dickinson
Age: 55 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 10
Died: 1886
Died: May 15
Poet
Writer
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Ai-mi-li Ti-chin-sen
Emilia Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
Cushions
Pleading
Squirrels
Snow
Summer
Mystery
Fear
Prank
Pranks

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When I state myself, as the representative of the verse, it does not mean me, but a supposed person.
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Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
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I fear a Man of frugal speech - I fear a Silent Man - Haranguer - I can overtake - Or Babbler - entertain - But He who weigheth - While the Rest - Expend their furthest pound - Of this Man - I am wary - I fear that He is Grand -
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To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
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The Truth never flaunted a sign.
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After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.
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Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
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They say that “Time assuages” - Time never did assuage - An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age - Time is a Test of Trouble - But not a Remedy - If such it prove, it prove too There was no Malady
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God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
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Forever is made up of nows.
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You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.
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Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
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Not if Their Party were waiting, Not if to talk with Me Were to Them now, Homesickness After Eternity.
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My life closed twice before its close It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
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Where thou art, that is home.
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All things do go a-courting, In earth, or sea, or air, God hath made nothing single But thee in His world so fair.
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You remember my ideal cat has always a huge rat in its mouth, just going out of sight - though going out of sight in itself has a peculiar pleasure.
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God's unique capacity is too surprising to surprise.
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Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
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I had a terror-since September -I could tell to none-and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Burying Ground-because I am afraid.
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