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Emily Dickinson

  • b0297996323har citeretfor 2 år siden
    IF I can stop one heart from breaking,

    I shall not live in vain;

    If I can ease one life the aching,

    Or cool one pain,

    Or help one fainting robin

    Unto his nest again,

    I shall not live in vain.
  • b0297996323har citeretfor 2 år siden
    THE soul selects her own society,

    Then shuts the door;

    On her divine majority
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    As he, defeated, dying,

    On whose forbidden ear

    The distant strains of triumph

    Break, agonized and clear.
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    IF I can stop one heart from breaking,

    I shall not live in vain;

    If I can ease one life the aching,

    Or cool one pain,

    Or help one fainting robin

    Unto his nest again,

    I shall not live in vain.
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    MINE by the right of the white election!

    Mine by the royal seal!

    Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison

    Bars cannot conceal!

    Mine, here in vision and in veto!

    Mine, by the grave’s repeal

    Titled, confirmed,—delirious charter!

    Mine, while the ages steal!
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    IF you were coming in the fall,

    I’d brush the summer by

    With half a smile and half a spurn,

    As housewives do a fly.

    If I could see you in a year,

    I’d wind the months in balls,

    And put them each in separate drawers,

    Until their time befalls.
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    IF you were coming in the fall,

    I’d brush the summer by

    With half a smile and half a spurn,

    As housewives do a fly.

    If I could see you in a year,

    I’d wind the months in balls,

    And put them each in separate drawers,

    Until their time befalls.
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    I cannot live with you,

    It would be life,

    And life is over there

    Behind the shelf

    The sexton keeps the key to,

    Putting up

    Our life, his porcelain,

    Like a cup
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    Nor could I rise with you,

    Because your face

    Would put out Jesus‘,

    That new grace
  • ceprianokeziahar citeretsidste år
    They’d judge us—how?

    For you served Heaven, you know,

    Or sought to;

    I could not,

    Because you saturated sight,

    And I had no more eyes

    For sordid excellence

    As Paradise.
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