Emily Dickinson
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By Emily Dickinson
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!
Each Life Converges to some Centre
by Emily Dickinson
Expressed — or still —
Exists in every Human Nature
A Goal —
Embodied scarcely to itself — it may be —
Too fair
For Credibility’s presumption
To mar —
Adored with caution — as a Brittle Heaven —
To reach
Were hopeless, as the Rainbow’s Raiment
To touch —
Yet persevered toward — sure — for the Distance —
How high —
Unto the Saint’s slow diligence —
The Sky —
Ungained — it may be — by a Life’s low Venture —
But then —
Eternity enable the endeavoring
Again.
Exhilaration is the Breeze
That lifts us from the ground,
And leaves us in another place
Whose statement is not found;
Returns us not, but after time
We soberly descend,
A little newer for the term
Upon enchanted ground.
– Emily Dickinson
“Nature is a haunted house–but Art–is a house that tries to be haunted.”
― Emily Dickinson
Maverick Mist 