"Faith" is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!
“‘Faith’ is a fine invention” (202) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
Reply
Tag Archives: Common Meter
The Labor of Shyness [Common Meter]
Turtles sun on pier foundations
at the very edge.
So that upon the merest glance
They can slip the ledge,
And sink down into the pond's depths
To hide amid the murk.
Those who aren't shy can never know
Just how hard is its work.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“There’s a certain Slant of light” (320) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
There's a certain slant of light,
Winter Afternoons --
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes --
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us --
We can find no scar,
But internal difference --
Where the Meanings, are --
Non may teach it -- Any --
'Tis the seal Despair --
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air --
When it comes, the Landscape listens --
Shadows -- hold their breath --
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death --
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“In the Prison Pen” by Herman Melville [w/ Audio]
Listless he eyes the palisades
And sentries in the glare;
'Tis barren as a pelican-beach --
But his world is ended there.
Nothing to do; and vacant hands
Bring on the idiot-pain;
He tries to think -- to recollect,
But the blur is on his brain.
Around him swarm the plaining ghosts
Like those on Virgil's shore --
A wilderness of faces dim,
And pale ones gashed and hoar.
A smiting sun. No shed, no tree;
He totters to his lair --
A den that sick hands dug in earth
Ere famine wasted there,
Or, dropping in his place, he swoons,
Walled in by throngs that press,
Till forth from the throngs they bear him
dead --
Dead in his meagerness.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“I have never seen ‘Volcanoes’ –” (175) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
I have never seen "Volcanoes" --
But, when Travellers tell
How those old -- phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still --
Bear within -- appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men --
If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place --
If at length the smouldering anguish
Wil not overcome ---
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?
If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“A Slumber did my Spirit Seal” by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“Snowflakes” (45) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town --
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down --
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig --
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Death of a Stout Tree [Common Meter]
Oh, those high waters are rising;
They've spilled their banks in flood,
Slouching toward the Tree of Life:
Its roots immersed in mud.
That tree is just so stout & straight --
Unambitious of height --
Not man nor beast could knock it down,
Regardless of their might.
But just a long soak of its roots --
A gift of too much good --
And then a well-timed gust of wind
Will turn that tree to wood.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“Forever — is composed of Nows — (690) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
Forever -- is composed of Nows --
'Tis not a different time --
Except for Infiniteness --
And Latitude of Home --
From this -- experienced Here --
Remove the Dates -- to These --
Let Months dissolve in further Months --
And Years -- exhale in Years --
Without Debate -- or Pause --
Or Celebrated Days --
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Dominies --
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“I taste a liquor never brewed” (214) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
I taste a liquor never brewed --
From Tankards scooped in Pearl --
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of air -- I am --
And Debauchee of Dew --
Reeling -- thro' endless summer days --
From inns of molten blue --
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door --
When Butterflies -- renounce their "drams" --
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats --
And Saints -- to windows run --
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the -- Sun!
Tiger Riding for Beginners 