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If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now

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
Atheism
Impel
Ones
Astral
Forget
Forgets
Makes
Aims
Forgot
Dawn
Aim
Allowed

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a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.
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Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye It bears the Soul as bold As it were rocked in Steel With Arms of Steel at either side— It joins—behind the Veil To what, could We presume The Bridge would cease to be To Our far, vacillating Feet A first Necessity.
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Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.
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And you dropt, lost, When something broke-- And let you from a Dream
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March is the month of expectation, The things we do not know, The Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, But pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal Betrays a boy.
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Will you tell me my fault, frankly as to yourself, for I had rather wince, than die. Men do not call the surgeon to commend the bone, but to set it, Sir.
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Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
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To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.
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I would paint a portrait which would bring the tears, had I canvas for it, and the scene should be -- solitude, and the figures -- solitude -- and the lights and shades, each a solitude.
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Love is like life-merely longer.
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