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by
Emily Dickinson
Water, is taught by thirst.
Water, is taught by thirst.
Land -- by the Oceans passed.
Transport -- by throe --
Peace -- by its battles told --
Love, by Memorial Mold --
Birds, by the Snow.
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by
Emily Dickinson
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
Unto the Daisy low --
Transported with Compassion
That such a Doll should grow
Where Tent by Tent -- Her Universe
Hung out its Flags of Snow --
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by
Emily Dickinson
The Past is such a curious Creature
The Past is such a curious Creature
To look her in the Face
A Transport may receipt us
Or a Disgrace --
Unarmed if any meet her
I charge him fly
Her faded Ammunition
Might yet reply.
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by
Emily Dickinson
A transport one cannot contain
A transport one cannot contain
May yet a transport be --
Though God forbid it lift the lid --
Unto its Ecstasy!
A Diagram -- of Rapture!
A sixpence at a Show --
With Holy Ghosts in Cages!
The Universe would go!
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by
Emily Dickinson
What we see we know somewhat
What we see we know somewhat
Be it but a little --
What we don't surmise we do
Though it shows so fickle
I shall vote for Lands with Locks
Granted I can pick 'em --
Transport's doubtful Dividend
Patented by Adam.
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by
Emily Dickinson
Through what transports of Patience
Through what transports of Patience
I reached the stolid Bliss
To breathe my Blank without thee
Attest me this and this --
By that bleak exultation
I won as near as this
Thy privilege of dying
Abbreviate me this --
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by
Emily Dickinson
I fit for them --
I fit for them --
I seek the Dark
Till I am thorough fit.
The labor is a sober one
With this sufficient sweet
That abstinence of mine produce
A purer food for them, if I succeed,
If not I had
The transport of the Aim --
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by
Emily Dickinson
'Tis Anguish grander than Delight
'Tis Anguish grander than Delight
'Tis Resurrection Pain --
The meeting Bands of smitten Face
We questioned to, again.
'Tis Transport wild as thrills the Graves
When Cerements let go
And Creatures clad in Miracle
Go up by Two and Two.
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by
Emily Dickinson
Which is the best -- the Moon or the Crescent?
Which is the best -- the Moon or the Crescent?
Neither -- said the Moon --
That is best which is not -- Achieve it --
You efface the Sheen.
Not of detention is Fruition --
Shudder to attain.
Transport's decomposition follows --
He is Prism born.
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by
Robert Burns
379. Song—Fragment—Love for love
ITHERS seek they ken na what,
Features, carriage, and a’ that;
Gie me love in her I court,
Love to love maks a’ the sport.
Let love sparkle in her e’e;
Let her lo’e nae man but me;
That’s the tocher-gude I prize,
There the luver’s treasure lies.
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by
Emily Dickinson
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart --
Sweet Skepticism of the Heart --
That knows -- and does not know --
And tosses like a Fleet of Balm --
Affronted by the snow --
Invites and then retards the Truth
Lest Certainty be sere
Compared with the delicious throe
Of transport thrilled with Fear --
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by
William Butler Yeats
When Helen Lived
We have cried in our despair
That men desert,
For some trivial affair
Or noisy, insolent sport,
Beauty that we have won
From bitterest hours;
Yet we, had we walked within
Those topless towers
Where Helen waked with her boy,
Had given but as the rest
Of the men and women of Troy,
A word and a jest.
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by
Emily Dickinson
Morns like these -- we parted
Morns like these -- we parted --
Noons like these -- she rose --
Fluttering first -- then firmer
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it --
It was not for me --
She -- was mute from transport --
I -- from agony --
Till -- the evening nearing
One the curtains drew --
Quick! A Sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
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by
Ellis Parker Butler
Bird Nesting
O wonderful! In sport we climbed the tree,
Eager and laughing, as in all our play,
To see the eggs where, in the nest, they lay,
But silent fell before the mystery.
For, one brief moment there, we understood
By sudden sympathy too fine for words
That we were sisters to the brooding birds
And part, with them, in God’s great motherhood.
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by
Emily Dickinson
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of "Currer Bell"
In quiet "Haworth" laid.
Gathered from many wanderings --
Gethsemane can tell
Thro' what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
Soft falls the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear --
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,
When "Bronte" entered there!
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by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
SELF-DECEIT.
My neighbour's curtain, well I see,
Is moving to and fin.
No doubt she's list'ning eagerly,
If I'm at home or no.
And if the jealous grudge I bore
And openly confess'd,
Is nourish'd by me as before,
Within my inmost breast.
Alas! no fancies such as these
E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.
I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze
That with the curtain sports.
1803.
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by
Emily Dickinson
A Dew sufficed itself --
A Dew sufficed itself --
And satisfied a Leaf
And felt "how vast a destiny" --
"How trivial is Life!"
The Sun went out to work --
The Day went out to play
And not again that Dew be seen
By Physiognomy
Whether by Day Abducted
Or emptied by the Sun
Into the Sea in passing
Eternally unknown
Attested to this Day
That awful Tragedy
By Transport's instability
And Doom's celerity.
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by
Emily Dickinson
She lay as if at play
She lay as if at play
Her life had leaped away --
Intending to return --
But not so soon --
Her merry Arms, half dropt --
As if for lull of sport --
An instant had forgot --
The Trick to start --
Her dancing Eyes -- ajar --
As if their Owner were
Still sparkling through
For fun -- at you --
Her Morning at the door --
Devising, I am sure --
To force her sleep --
So light -- so deep --
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by
Emily Dickinson
Some, too fragile for winter winds
Some, too fragile for winter winds
The thoughtful grave encloses --
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.
Never the treasures in her nest
The cautious grave exposes,
Building where schoolboy dare not look,
And sportsman is not bold.
This covert have all the children
Early aged, and often cold,
Sparrow, unnoticed by the Father --
Lambs for whom time had not a fold.
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by
William Butler Yeats
Remorse For Intemperate Speech
I ranted to the knave and fool,
But outgrew that school,
Would transform the part,
Fit audience found, but cannot rule
My fanatic heart.
I sought my betters: though in each
Fine manners, liberal speech,
Turn hatred into sport,
Nothing said or done can reach
My fanatic heart.
Out of Ireland have we come.
Great hatred, little room,
Maimed us at the start.
I carry from my mother's womb
A fanatic heart.
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by
Emily Dickinson
If I'm lost -- now
If I'm lost -- now
That I was found --
Shall still my transport be --
That once -- on me -- those Jasper Gates
Blazed open -- suddenly --
That in my awkward -- gazing -- face --
The Angels -- softly peered --
And touched me with their fleeces,
Almost as if they cared --
I'm banished -- now -- you know it --
How foreign that can be --
You'll know -- Sir -- when the Savior's face
Turns so -- away from you --
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by
Emily Dickinson
Flowers -- Well -- if anybody
Flowers -- Well -- if anybody
Can the ecstasy define --
Half a transport -- half a trouble --
With which flowers humble men:
Anybody find the fountain
From which floods so contra flow --
I will give him all the Daisies
Which upon the hillside blow.
Too much pathos in their faces
For a simple breast like mine --
Butterflies from St. Domingo
Cruising round the purple line --
Have a system of aesthetics --
Far superior to mine.
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by
Emily Dickinson
The Robin is a Gabriel
The Robin is a Gabriel
In humble circumstances --
His Dress denotes him socially,
Of Transport's Working Classes --
He has the punctuality
Of the New England Farmer --
The same oblique integrity,
A Vista vastly warmer --
A small but sturdy Residence
A self denying Household,
The Guests of Perspicacity
Are all that cross his Threshold --
As covert as a Fugitive,
Cajoling Consternation
By Ditties to the Enemy
And Sylvan Punctuation --
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by
Emily Dickinson
The Fingers of the Light
The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With "I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in."
"You're soon," the Town replied,
"My Faces are asleep --
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up."
The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man
The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.
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by
Vasko Popa
Give Me Back My Rags #12
Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash
I won't hear anything know anything
Enough enough of all
I'll say the last enough
Fill my mouth with earth
Grit my teeth
To break off you skull guzzler
To break off once for all
I'll just be what I am
Without root without branch without crown
I'll lean on myself
On my own bumps and bruises
I'll be the hawthorn stake through you
That's all I can be in you
In you spoilsport in you muddlehead
Get lost
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