XX.
I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Behind this door, pressing up
To listen with my ear.
Nor urgent chores,
Nor appointments new,
Except to this extent:
(Whispering to you.)
—
Dickinson’s final, slightly more romantic version.
Tag: Life
XXI. He Ate and Drank the Precious Words
XXI.
He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Only that his frame was rust.
He was a car.
A dead car.
XIV. Some Things That Fly There Be
XIV.
Some things that fly there be,—
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:
Bats, flies, gnats, paper aeroplanes, fleas.
Some things that stay there be,—
Grief, hills, eternity:
Rocks, pennies on the ground, corpses and houses, usually.
There are, that resting, rise.
The sky:
I mean the clouds. Meant to say the clouds.
—
XII. I Cannot Live With You
It takes me longer than you are tall to explain…
IV. ‘Tis So Much Joy!
Care to join?
I. Adventure Most Unto Itself
I.
Adventure most unto itself
The soul condemned to be;
Attended by a Single Hound—
Carlo, my doggy.
—
Original as published in an early addition, but actually part of a longer poem.
