The Tint I cannot take — is best —

The Tint I cannot take — is best —
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar —
A Guinea at a sight —

The fine — impalpable Array —
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company —
Repeated — in the sky —

The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite — to tell —

The eager look — on Landscapes —
As if they just repressed
Some Secret — that was pushing
Like Chariots — in the Vest —

The Pleading of the Summer —
That other Prank — of Snow —
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels — know.

Their Graspless manners — mock us —
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly — in the Grave —
Another way — to see —

Emily Dickinson

People highly regard the color of distant origin. Firstly Red at Sunset, Secondly red colors in faraway countries such Tyre purple, Brazilian red or Mexican cochineal. But she told dishonest farmers secretly harvest fake dyes. They could cheat the dead’s eye in fake purple interior of the coffin.

The Tint I cannot reach is best —
The Color is too distant
That I could show it in Fair —
A Guinea could be charged for a Glance—

The fine and untouchable Glory
That shows off to the viewer
Like Cleopatra’s group —
Is repeated in the sky —

The Moments of Glory
That move and leave
The Soul with a sigh
Is too exquisite to tell ―

The eager expression on Landscapes
As if they just hided
Some Secret that was going
To the West like a Coach―

The Summer seriously requested
That other Trick of Snow
That Softens Secret with Gauze,
Lest the Squirrels notice.

Their unthinkable ways tease us
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts proudly in the Grave
To see Another way—

Trudging to Eden, looking backward,

Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met Somebody’s little Boy
Asked him his name ― He lisped me “Trotwood” ―
Lady, did He belong to thee?

Would it comfort ― to know I met him ―
And that He didn’t look afraid?
I couldn’t weep ― for so many smiling
New Acquaintance ― this Baby made ―

Emily Dickinson

Emily met David Copperfield and his grandaunt on her way to Eden.

Trudging to Eden, looking backward,
I met a little Boy of a good family
Then I asked him his name. He lisped me “Trotwood”
Lady, did He belong to you?

”Would it comfort to know I met David
And that He didn’t look afraid?
I couldn’t weep for always smiling this Baby
Made New Acquaintance ――

* In his childhood David was not happy with his grandaunt (Betsy Trotwood).

I meant to find Her when I came —

I meant to find Her when I came —
Death — had the same design —
But the Success — was His — it seems —
And the Surrender — Mine —

I meant to tell Her how I longed
For just this single time —
But Death had told Her so the first —
And she had past, with Him —

To wander — now — is my Repose —
To rest — To rest would be
A privilege of Hurricane
To Memory — and Me.

Emily Dickinson

Death of my Queen Bee

I meant to find Her when I came —
Death — had the same Idea —
But He is the Winner — it seems —
And I am the Loser —

I meant to tell Her how I longed
For just this unique time —
But Death had told Her so the first —
And she had past, with Him —

My Repose —is To wander — now
To rest — To rest would be
To Review would be a privilege
of Hurricane and Me

Hurricane attacked Emily’s Garden. She is worried about her favorite Queen Bee’s fate. She hurried to her Honeycomb but too late. Queen bee is gone with Death. 

I dwell in Possibility —

I dwell in Possibility —
A fairer House than Prose —
More numerous of Windows —
Superior — for Doors —

Of Chambers as the Cedars —
Impregnable of Eye —
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —

Of Visitors — the fairest —
For Occupation — This —
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise —

Emily Dickinson

Emily is blessed with poetical inspiration!

I dwell in Possibility,
A fairer House than Prose
That has many Windows,
Superior — because of

Invisible room doors
As the dense forest —
And the Heavenly body is
For my Everlasting Roof —

The fairest of Visitors
For my Occupation,
I can gather Paradise
By spreading my narrow Hands —

One Life of so much Consequence!

One Life of so much Consequence!
Yet I ― for it ― would pay –
My Soul’s entire income –
In ceaseless ― salary –

One Pearl ― to me ― so signal –
That I would instant dive –
Although ― I knew ― to take it –
Would cost me ― just a life!

The Sea is full ― I know it!
That ― does not blur my Gem!
It burns ― distinct from all the row –
Intact ― in Diadem!

The life is thick ― I know it!
Yet ― not so dense a crowd –
But Monarchs ― are perceptible –
Far down the dustiest Road!

Emily Dickinson

Emily has precious things (Poetry?) worthy of Life!

One life is worthy of important things!
Yet I would pay for it
My Soul’s entire income
In constant wage –

One Pearl is so rare to me
That I would dive instantly,
Although I knew it would take it
At cost of my life!

I know that the Sea is full!
Which does not stain my Gem!
It shines intact in Diadem!
Distinct in any design―

I know that the life is thick!
Yet dense crowd are not perceptible
But only Monarchs
Far down the dustiest Road!

Her spirit rose to such a height

Her spirit rose to such a height
Her countenance it did inflate
Like one that fed on awe.
More prudent to assault the dawn
Than merit the ethereal scorn
That effervesced from her.

Emily Dickinson

---

Venus

Her spirit rose to such a height
it did inflate Her Glory
Like one that lived on awe.
It’s more prudent to appear in the dawn
Than enjoy the heavenly superiority
When dull stars escaped from her.

Some things that fly there be —

Some things that fly there be —
Birds — Hours — the Bumblebee —
Of these no Elegy.

Some things that stay there be —
Grief — Hills — Eternity —
Nor this behooveth me.

There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!

Emily Dickinson

Balloons

There be some things that fly —
Birds or Hours or the Bumblebee —
These are not elegiac.

There be some things that stay —
Grief or Hills or Eternity —
Nor this behooves me.

There are that rise, resting
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!