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Dickinson, Emily

· Emily Dickinson: Drowning is not so pitiful (Poem) · Emily Dickinson: A Word (Poem) · Emily Dickinson: I measure every Grief I meet · Emily Dickinson: The Soul unto itself · Emily Dickinson: I felt a Funeral, in my Brain · Emily Dickinson: If I should die (Poem) · Emily Dickinson: My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun · Emily Dickinson: A Day · Emily Dickinson: Because I could not stop for Death · Emily Dickinson: Wild nights – Wild nights! · Emily Dickinson: The Outlet · Emily Dickinson: I’m Nobody! Who are you?

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Emily Dickinson: Drowning is not so pitiful (Poem)

Drowning is not so pitiful

Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise.
Three times, ’t is said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode
Where hope and he part company, —
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker’s cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
Drowning is not so pitiful

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: A Word (Poem)

A Word

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
A Word

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: I measure every Grief I meet

    

I measure every Grief I meet

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve –
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love –

The Grieved – are many – I am told –
There is the various Cause –
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes –

There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call “Despair” –
There’s Banishment from native Eyes –
In sight of Native Air –

And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –

To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they’re mostly worn –
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
I measure every Grief I meet
• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: The Soul unto itself

 

The Soul unto itself

The Soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend –
Or the most agonizing Spy –
An Enemy – could send –

Secure against its own –
No treason it can fear –
Itself – its Sovereign – of itself
The Soul should stand in Awe –

 

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
The Soul unto itself
fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

 

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain
fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: If I should die (Poem)

 

If I should die

If I should die,
And you should live,
And time should gurgle on,
And morn should beam,
And noon should burn,
As it has usual done;
If birds should build as early,
And bees as bustling go,—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’T is sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with daisies lie,
That commerce will continue,
And trades as briskly fly.
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene,
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
If I should die
fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun


My Life had stood –
a Loaded Gun

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –
In Corners – till a Day
The Owner passed – identified –
And carried Me away –

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods –
And now We hunt the Doe –
And every time I speak for Him
The Mountains straight reply –

And do I smile, such cordial light
Opon the Valley glow –
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let it’s pleasure through –

And when at Night – Our good Day done –
I guard My Master’s Head –
’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s
Deep Pillow – to have shared –

To foe of His – I’m deadly foe –
None stir the second time –
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –
Or an emphatic Thumb –

Though I than He – may longer live
He longer must – than I –
For I have but the power to kill,
Without – the power to die –

 

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun
fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: A Day

 

A Day

I’ll tell you how the sun rose, —
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
“That must have been the sun!”

But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while

Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
A Day
• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: Because I could not stop for Death

 

Because I could not
stop for Death

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ’tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
Because I could not stop for Death

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive E-F, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: Wild nights – Wild nights!

 

Wild nights – Wild nights!

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight –
In thee!

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
Wild nights – Wild nights!

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: The Outlet

The Outlet

My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!

I’ll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks,—

Say, sea,
Take me!

 

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
The Outlet, 1860

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


Emily Dickinson: I’m Nobody! Who are you?

 

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog! 

Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, Dickinson, Emily


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