What did They do since I saw Them?

What did They do since I saw Them?
Were They industrious?
So many questions to put Them
Have I the eagerness

That could I snatch Their Faces
That could Their lips reply
Not till the last was answered
Should They start for the Sky.

Not if Their Party were waiting,
Not if to talk with Me
Were to Them now, Homesickness
After Eternity.

Not if the Just suspect me
And offer a Reward
Would I restore my Booty
To that Bold Person, God —

Immigration to Kingdom of God

What did They do since I saw Them?
Were They industrious?
If I have the eagerness to put Them
So many questions

That I could steal Their Faces
That Their lips could reply
Not till the last was answered
When They Should start for the Sky.

Not if Their Party were waiting,
Not if to talk with Me
Were to Them now, Homesickness
After Eternity.

Not if the Just suspect me
And offer a Reward
If I would restore my Booty
To that Bold Person, God —

Emily is an Immigration officer to Kingdom of God.

It sifts from leaden sieves,

It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain,―
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem,―
The summer’s empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were
Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen,―
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

Snow

It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills the wrinkles of the road
With alabaster wool It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain,―
Smooth forehead from the east
Unto the east again. It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil On stump and stack and stem,―
The summer’s empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were
Unknown, but for them. It ruffles wrists of poles,
As ankles of a queen,―
Then effaces its skill like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

Musicians wrestle everywhere -

Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that “New life”!

It is not Bird - it has no nest -
Nor “Band” - in brass and scarlet - drest -
Nor Tamborin - nor Man -
It is not Hymn from pulpit read -
The “Morning Stars” the Treble led
On Time’s first afternoon!

Some - say - it is “the Spheres” - at play!
Some say - that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames - and Men!
Some - think it service in the place
Where we - with late - celestial face -
Please God - shall ascertain.

Emily Dickinson

Leonid Meteor Shower

Musicians drive everywhere -
All day among the crowded air
I hear the musical sound -
And waking long before the morn -
Such brilliance breaks upon the town
I think it that “New life”!
It is not Bird for it has no nest -
Nor “Band” dressed in brass and scarlet –
Nor Tambourine nor Man -
It is not Hymn read from pulpit -
The “Morning Stars” the Soprano led
On Time’s first afternoon!

Some say it is “the Star” at play!
Some say it is that bright Ancestry
Of vanished Dames and Men!
Some think it service in the Heaven
Where we pray God to witness
That illuminated sky.

Image of Light, Adieu —

Image of Light, Adieu —
Thanks for the interview —
So long — so short —
Preceptor of the whole —
Coeval Cardinal —
Impart — Depart —

Emily Dickinson

Cardinals

Image of Light, Adieu —
Thanks for the interview —
So long — so short —
Dean of the College —
Of Cardinals—
Preach — Leave —

* Cardinal was named for the crimson feather, reminiscent of a Catholic Cardinal’s ceremonial cloth.

There is no Silence in the Earth — so silent

There is no Silence in the Earth — so silent
As that endured
Which uttered, would discourage Nature
And haunt the World.

Emily Dickinson

Silence in Snow

There is no Silence in the Earth — so silent
As that prevailed
Which uttered, would depress Nature
And disappoint the World.

Delayed till she had ceased to know—

Delayed till she had ceased to know—
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay—
An hour behind the fleeting breath—
Later by just an hour than Death—
Oh lagging Yesterday!

Could she have guessed that it would be—
Could but a crier of the joy
Have climbed the distant hill—
Had not the bliss so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round—
Show them this meek apparreled thing
That could not stop to be a king—
Doubtful if it be crowned!

Emily Dickinson

Death of Cordelia (devoted daughter of King Lear)

Too Late! She had ceased to hear—
Too late! Her loving bosom lay
In its white gown—
An hour behind her last breath—
Just one hour later than Death—
Oh tardy Yesterday!

If she could have guessed that it would be—
If only a messenger of the joy
Have climbed the distant hill—
If the joy had not so slow pace
Who denies this resigned face
Were not defeated still?

Oh if there may be departing
Any forgot by Victory
In her royal review—
Show them this humble clothed man
Who could be a king—
Doubtful if he deserves the crown!

Within my Garden, rides a Bird

Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel —
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As ‘twere a travelling Mill —

He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose —
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted —
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres —
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we —
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity —

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye —
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!

Emily Dickinson

Humming Bird

In my Garden, a Bird rides
Upon a single Wheel —
Whose spokes make a dizzy Music
As it were a rotating Mill —

He never stops, but hovers
Above the Ripest Rose —
Partakes without landing
And sings as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted —
And then his Fairy carriage
Reels in remoter wind current —
And I come back to my Dog,

And He and I, are puzzled
If real, 'twere we —
Or the Garden bore This Curiosity
In the Brain—

But He, the best Logician,
Direct my clumsy eye —
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exact Answer!

Still own thee - still thou art

Still own thee - still thou art
What Surgeons call alive -
Though slipping - slipping - I perceive
To thy reportless Grave -
Which question shall I clutch -
What answer wrest from thee
Before thou dost exude away
In the recallless sea?

Emily Dickinson

On a cricket’s deathbed

What Surgeons call alive
Still own you – I perceive–
You are falling though falling
To your unnoticed Grave -
Which question shall I ask
What answer (shall I) take from you -
Before you flow away
In the irreversible sea?

Except the Heaven had come so near —

Except the Heaven had come so near —
So seemed to choose My Door —
The Distance would not haunt me so —
I had not hoped — before —

But just to hear the Grace depart —
I never thought to see —
Afflicts me with a Double loss —
‘Tis lost — and lost to me —

Emily Dickinson

Emily expects the Grace (invitation to the Heaven by lightning)

Unless the Heaven had come so near
And seemed to choose My Door —,
The Distance would not trouble me so —
Though I had not hoped before —

But when I hear the Grace leave—
Unthinkable to see—
It grieves me with a Double loss —
'Tis lost — and lost to me —

A Moth the hue of this

A Moth the hue of this
Haunts Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.

Nature is fond, I sometimes think,
Of Trinkets, as a Girl.

Emily Dickinson

A Scarlet Moth around Candles

A Moth of this hue
Gather around Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s knowledge would make
Our Sunset moment dull.

I sometimes think, Nature loves
Trinkets, as a Girl.

They put Us far apart —

They put Us far apart —
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula —
We signified “These see” —

They took away our Eyes —
They thwarted Us with Guns —
“I see Thee” each respondedstraight
Through Telegraphic Signs —

With Dungeons — They devised —
But through their thickest skill —
And their opaquest Adamant —
Our Souls saw — just as well —

They summoned Us to die —
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet —
Condemned — but just — to see —

Permission to recant —
Permission to forget —
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For perjury of that —

Not Either — noticed Death —
Of Paradise — aware —
Each other’s Face — was all the Disc
Each other’s setting — saw —

Emily Dickinson

Polar Night

We were sent far away —
As separate as Sea
And Her wasted Peninsula —
We declared “These see” —

We were blind in the dark —
We were obstructed with Guns —
“I see You” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs —

Our Souls saw — just as well —
With Dungeons — completely designed —
But through their cleverest skill —
And their opaquest Hardest stone —

We were summoned to die —
With sweet swiftness
We stood upon our settled feet —
Condemned — but just — to see —

Permission to deny —
Permission to forget —
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For that treason —

Not Either — noticed Death —
Aware of Paradise ——
Each other’s Face — was round
We saw each other’s setting —

One of Emily’s favorite subject: Sunset and Sunrise in Polar night.

Must be a Woe —

Must be a Woe —
A loss or so —
To bend the eye
Best Beauty’s way —

But — once aslant
It notes Delight
As difficult
As Stalactite

A Common Bliss
Were had for less —
The price — is
Even as the Grace —

Our lord — thought no
Extravagance
To pay — a Cross —

Emily Dickinson

Ordinary way of life is better for a commoner.

Must be a Sorrow—
A loss or so —
To bend the eye (is)
Beauty’s behavior —

But momentary Glance
It notes Delight
As difficult
As lengthy process

A Common Happiness
Were had for poor —
The price must be
The Grace —

Our Lord minded
No high price
To pay a Cross —

I’ve nothing else — to bring, You know —

I’ve nothing else — to bring, You know —
So I keep bringing These —
Just as the Night keeps fetching Stars
To our familiar eyes —

Maybe, we shouldn’t mind them —
Unless they didn’t come —
Then — maybe, it would puzzle us
To find our way Home —

Emily Dickinson

Asters

I’ve nothing else — to bring, You know —
So I keep bringing These —
Just as the Night keeps fetching Stars
To our familiar eyes —

Maybe, we shouldn’t mind them —
Unless they didn’t bloom—
When — maybe, it would puzzle us
To find our way Home —

＊ Emily brings Asters. She gives us a hint of “Stars” in the first stanza. Aster is from Latin aster “star” for its radiate corolla.

As imperceptibly as Grief

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away ―
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy ―

A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon ―

The Dusk drew earlier in ―
The Morning foreign shone ―
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone ―

And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

Emily Dickinson

Summer Flees to the Next Season

Though trying to hide her Grief
The Summer dwindled away ―
At last keeping it too secret
To seem untrustful ―

A Silence distilled
As Twilight began long,
Or Nature spending alone
Private Afternoon ―

The Dusk became earlier ―
The Morning shone excluded―
A courteous, yet disturbing Leave,
As Guest, that would be gone ―

And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful season.

I years had been from home,

I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before

Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business, just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?

I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.

I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.

I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.

I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.

Emily Dickinson

Wandering desire of Emily who lives a reclusive life. One of the most paradoxical poem. 

I had been from home many years,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open,
Lest a face I never saw before
Stare into mine blindly
And ask my business there.
My business in the past
Was such still dwelling there?

I behaved awkwardly,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.

I had faced danger and the dead,
But never quaked before.
I laughed a stiff laugh
Because I could fear a door.

I fasten my hand to the lock
With trembling care,
Lest the awful door should spring back,
And leave me standing there.

I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.

I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent —

I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent —
To wrap its shining Yards —
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear —
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail — Or Carpenter —
But just the miles of Stare —
That signalize a Show’s Retreat —
In North America —

No Trace — no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring — no Marvel —
Men, and Feats —
Dissolved as utterly —
As Bird’s far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue —
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety —
Then swallowed up, of View.

Emily Dickinson

The Show is Over

I’ve known a Sky like a Tent
Which wrapped its shining lands,
Plucked up its stakes, and disappeared —
Without the sound of Boards
Or Nail pulling— Or Carpenter —
Look over the faraway field
And you’ll see the Show leaving
From North America —
No Trace — no Evidence of the Event
That dazzled you, Yesterday,
No Circle — no Wonder —
Men, and Performances —
Disappeared as utterly —
As Bird’s faraway Immigration
Discloses just a Hue—
A splash of Oars swallowed up
A Gaiety of View.

The author of “Glee—the Great Storm Is Over” was excited last night to enjoy the Great Show of Storm starring Thunder and Lightning.  Now she misses the Show under a peaceful but vacant Sky.

My Portion is Defeat — today —

My Portion is Defeat — today —
A paler luck than Victory —
Less Paeans — fewer Bells —
The Drums don’t follow Me — with tunes —
Defeat — a somewhat slower — means —
More Arduous than Balls —

‘Tis populous with Bone and stain —
And Men too straight to stoop again —,
And Piles of solid Moan —
And Chips of Blank — in Boyish Eyes —
And scraps of Prayer —
And Death’s surprise,
Stamped visible — in Stone —

There’s somewhat prouder, over there —
The Trumpets tell it to the Air —
How different Victory
To Him who has it — and the One
Who to have had it, would have been
Contender — to die —

Emily Dickinson

Like a fallen soldier

My fortune is Defeat — today —
A paler fate than Victory —
Less hymns — fewer Bells —
The Drums don’t follow Me — with tunes —
Defeat — a somewhat slower — means —
More Difficult than Bullets —

'Tis populous with Bone and stain —
And Men too straight to shoot again —,
And Piles of incessant Moan —
And Fixed Pupils — in Boyish Eyes —
And broken piece of Prayer —
And Death’s surprise,
Inscribed visible — in Stone —

There’s somewhat prouder, over there —
The Trumpets tell it to the Air —
How different Victory
To one who gets victory and the other
Who would have been Contender —
To die for Victory—

* Emily felt identified with a soldier who fell for Victory in the Battlefield. She is depressed. 

After the Sun comes out

After the Sun comes out
How it alters the World ―
Waggons like messengers hurry about
Yesterday is old ―

All men meet as if
Each foreclosed a news ―
Fresh as a Cargo from Batize
Nature’s qualities ―

Emily Dickinson

Morning Fair

After the Sun rises
How it changes the World ―
Wagons like messengers rush about
Yesterday is old ―

All men meet as if
Each has a latest news ―
Fresh as a Cargo from Belize
Nature’s properties―

Batize (Belize) is a country on the Caribbean Sea.

Farther in Summer than the Birds

Farther in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.

No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.

Antiquer felt at Noon
When August is burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify.

Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic - Difference
Enhances Nature now.

Emily Dickinson

Cricket on Chorus

In Summer Vaster than the Birds
Sorrowfully from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its invisible Mass.

No Ceremony can be seen
The Grace is so scanty that
It becomes a solemn Custom
To enlarging Loneliness.

It is felt strange at Noon
When August is burning low
This spectral Canticle Arise
To express Repose.

No Grace return as yet
No Furrow on the Sunlight
Yet a Mystic Variation
Make Nature impressive.

＊Cricket’s elegiac chorus is Emily’s season word for ending summer. Cricket is a clever insect for Emily. By the way, “Ant” is not in her dictionary.

Inconceivably solemn!

Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay
Pierce — by the very Press
Of Imagery —

Their far Parades — order on the eye
With a mute Pomp —
A pleading Pageantry —

Flags, are a brave sight —
But no true Eye
Ever went by One —
Steadily —

Music’s triumphant —
But the fine Ear
Winces with delight
Are Drums too near —

Emily Dickinson

Military Funeral March

Inconceivably solemn!
Things go pierce gay
By very brilliant
Pressure —

Their far Parades —constantly
With a mute Pomp —
A mournful Pageantry —

Flags, are a brave sight —
But no true Eye
Followed every One —
Steadily —

Music is triumphant —
But the fine Ear
Aches with delight
Drums are too near —

Frequent Events in Civil War.

The Lady feeds Her little Bird

The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At rarer intervals –
The little Bird would not dissent
But meekly recognize

The Gulf between the Hand and Her
And crumbless and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore –

Emily Dickinson

It kills to feed too much!

The Lady feeds Her little Bird
At frequenter intervals –
The little Bird would not turn down
But humbly see

The Distance between the Lady’s Hand and Her claw
And all eaten and afar
And fainting, on Her yellow Knee
Fall softly, and adore the Lady–

“Red Sea,” indeed! Talk not to me

“Red Sea,” indeed! Talk not to me
Of purple Pharaoh—
I have a Navy in the West
Would pierce his Columns thro’—
Guileless, yet of such Glory fine
That all along the Line
Is it, or is it not, divine—
The Eye inquires with a sigh
That Earth sh’d be so big—
What Exultation in the Woe—
What Wine in the fatigue!          

Emily Dickinson

Cleopatra’s Monologue before Battle of Actium

“Red Sea,” indeed! Don’t talk to me
Of the Purple Sinking Sun(It’s ominous!)—
I have a Navy in the West
Which would pierce through Octavian’s Columns—
Fair and square, yet of such fine Glory
That my Navy  is all along the Horizon
or it  is not, Oh my God—
The Eye inquires with a sigh
That Earth should be so big— 
What Pleasure to enjoy in the Woe—
What Wine to drink in the fatigue!

* Cleopatra(avatar of Emily) talks to herself, while looking at literally “Red Sea” at Gulf of Actium bathed in the red Sunset.

* “ purple Pharaoh ”is crimson Sunset that always fascinates her. But she felt an ill omen of the Fall of her Dynasty. She is not joyful.

* Emily’s usage of “Red Sea” is confusing. It is different from what is called “Red Sea” now. This is an example of Emily’s mischievous trick.

* “his’ means Octavian’s.  

‘Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — Hast Thou

‘Tis Sunrise — Little Maid — Hast Thou
No Station in the Day?
'Twas not thy wont, to hinder so —
Retrieve thine industry —

'Tis Noon — My little Maid —
Alas — and art thou sleeping yet?
The Lily — waiting to be Wed —
The Bee — Hast thou forgot?

My little Maid — 'Tis Night — Alas
That Night should be to thee
Instead of Morning — Had'st thou broached
Thy little Plan to Die —
Dissuade thee, if I could not, Sweet,
I might have aided — thee —

Emily Dickinson

Emily wishes that Sunset would deter from suicide

'Tis Sunrise — Miss Darling — have you
No duty in the Day?
'Twas not your custom, to disturb —
Recover you’re your diligence —

'Tis Noon — Miss Darling —
Alas — and are you sleeping yet?
The Lily is waiting to be Wed —
Have you forgotten the bee?

Miss Darling — 'Tis Night — Alas
That you are cheerful at Night
Instead of Morning — you had uttered
Your little Plan to Die —
If I could not dissuade you, Sweet,
I might have aided you —

Today Emily is a nurse of Miss Darling (The Sun). Emily is frustrated with unpunctual behavior of Miss Darling, who is scheduled to die at Night. She is cheerfully awaken. Emily says that she might wish Sunset to deter from suicide.

It sounded as if the Streets were running

It sounded as if the Streets were running
And then ― the Streets stood still ―
Eclipse ― was all we could see at the Window
And Awe ― was all we could feel.

By and by ― the boldest stole out of his Covert
To see if Time was there ―
Nature was in an Opal Apron,
Mixing fresher Air.

Emily Dickinson

Trivial: Solar Eclipse

It sounded as if the Streets were running
And then ― the Streets stood still ―
All we could see at the Window was Eclipse
And all we could feel was awe.

By and by ― the boldest thing appears from his shelter
To see if Time was there ―
Nature was mixing fresher Air
In an Opal Clouds.
.

A Visitor in Marl —

A Visitor in Marl —
Who influences Flowers —
Till they are orderly as Busts —
And Elegant — as Glass —

Who visits in the Night —
And just before the Sun —
Concludes his glistening interview —
Caresses — and is gone —

But whom his fingers touched —
And where his feet have run —
And whatsoever Mouth be kissed —
Is as it had not been —

Emily Dickinson

Dew

A Visitor in Earth —
He influences Flowers —
Till the flowers are regular as Busts —
And Elegant as Glass —

He visits in the Night —
And just before the Sun —
Ending his sparkling interview —
Touches tenderly and leaves —

But whom his fingers touched —
And where his feet have wetted—
And any one mouth be kissed —
Is as it had not been —

Her Losses make our Gains ashamed —

Her Losses make our Gains ashamed —
She bore Life’s empty Pack
As gallantly as if the East
Were swinging at her Back.
Life’s empty Pack is heaviest,
As every Porter knows —
In vain to punish Honey —
It only sweeter grows.

Emily Dickinson

Queen Bee alone go to the West (death)

Her Losses make our ashamed Gains—
She bore Lifeless Pack
As gallantly as if Morning Sun
Were swinging at her Back.
Lifeless Pack is heaviest,
As every Porter knows —
It is all in vain to punish Honey —
Honey only grows sweeter.

Emily feels guilty for Queen Bee. Her honey is expressed for her and family’s Sweet. Her loyal Bees are expelled as well.

* Life’s empty Pack: honeycomb without bees

One Day is there of the Series

One Day is there of the Series
Termed Thanksgiving Day.
Celebrated part at Table
Part in Memory.

Neither Patriarch nor Pussy
I dissect the Play
Seems it to my Hooded thinking
Reflex Holiday.

Had there been no sharp Subtraction
From the early Sum —
Not an Acre or a Caption
Where was once a Room —

Not a Mention, whose small Pebble
Wrinkled any Sea,
Unto Such, were such Assembly
‘Twere Thanksgiving Day.

Emily Dickinson

Thanksgiving Day was Lincoln Memorial Day

There is one Day of the Series
Termed Thanksgiving Day.
Celebrated elements at Table
Half in Memory.

I don’t look at the behavior
Of Patriarch or Pussy
It seems to my mournful thinking
Memorial day.

If there had been no sharp Loss
From the early Value —
If not an graveyard or an Inscription
Where was once a Space —

If He didn’t uttered a Mention, whose small Pebble
Wrinkled any Sea,
Such Gathering were to Such,
'Twere Thanksgiving Day.

* Thanksgiving Day was observed on various days until Abraham Lincoln proclaimed in 1863 that Thanksgiving Day be observed on the fourth Thursday of November in the United State of America. He was assassinated in 1865. The first Thanksgiving Day after the tragedy was celebrated on the fourth Thursday in 1865. The gathering was not joyous to Emily. Her thought was on Abraham Lincoln.  

She slept beneath a tree —

She slept beneath a tree —
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute —
She recognized the foot —
Put on her carmine suit
And see!

Emily Dickinson

Cochineal

She slept beneath a tree —
Remembered by me alone.
I touched her silent Shell——
She perceived with the foot —
I put on her carmine suit
Lo and behold!

Today Emily is in Mexico? She crushes cochineal feeding on Cacti. Her dress is dyed red! 

The photograph above shows soft-shelled Cochineal, from which carmine pigment is produced.

Of Brussels — it was not —

Of Brussels — it was not —
Of Kidderminster? Nay —
The Winds did buy it of the Woods —
They — sold it unto me

It was a gentle price —
The poorest — could afford —
It was within the frugal purse
Of Beggar — or of Bird —

Of small and spicy Yards —
In hue — a mellow Dun —　
Of Sunshine — and of Sere — Composed —
But, principally — of Sun —

The Wind — unrolled it fast —
And spread it on the Ground —
Upholsterer of the Pines — is He —
Upholsterer — of the Pond —

Emily Dickinson

Carpet of Dead Leaves

It was not of Brussels —
Of Kidderminster? Nay —
The Winds did buy it from the Woods —
The Winds sold it unto me

It was a gentle price —
The poorest could afford —
It was within the frugal purse
Of Beggar or of Bird —

Composed of small and spicy pine needles —
In hue — a mellow dark brown —　
Of Sunshine and dead leaves ——
But, principally — of Sun —

The Wind — unrolled it fast —
And spread it on the Ground —
He is Upholsterer of the Pines —
Upholsterer — of the Pond —

* Kidderminster: Town in Worcestershire, England; place famous for its carpet industry

I rose — because He sank —

I rose — because He sank —
I thought it would be opposite —
But when his power dropped —
My Soul grew straight.

I cheered my fainting Prince —
I sang firm — even — Chants —
I helped his Film — with Hymn —

And when the Dews drew off
That held his Forehead stiff —
I met him —
Balm to Balm —

I told him Best — must pass
Through this low Arch of Flesh —
No Casque so brave
It spurn the Grave —

I told him Worlds I knew
Where Emperors grew —
Who recollected us
If we were true —

And so with Thews of Hymn —
And Sinew from within —
And ways I knew not that I knew — till then—
I lifted Him —

Emily Dickinson

Jupiter

I rose — because He sank —
I thought it would be opposite —
But when his power dropped —
My Soul grew straight.

I cheered my fainting Prince —
I sang firm — even — Chants —
I helped his Membrane— with Hymn —

And when the sweat drew off
That held his Forehead stiff —
I met him —
Both are balmy —

I advised him to run
Bending over —
There is not such a brave Casque
It scorn the Grave —

I told him Worlds I knew
Where Emperors grew —
Who rewarded us
If we were true —

And so with Manners of Hymn —
And Sinew from within —
And ways I knew not that I knew — till then—
I supported Him —

Jupiter is long distance runner. He shines from the East to the West all night long. Emily supports him.