Тонкая СРЕДА-2020-2(15) К СОДЕРЖАНИЮ
СТИХОТВОРЕНИЯ ЭМИЛИ ДИКИНСОН /
EMILY DICKINSON POEMS
419
We grow accustomed to the Dark —
When Light is put away —
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To Witness her Goodbye —
A Moment-We uncertain step
For newness of the night —
Then — fit our Vision to the Dark —
And meet the Road — erect —
And so of larger — Darknesses —
Those Evenings of the Bram —
When not a Moon dIsclose a sign —
Or Star — come out — within—
The Bravest — grope a little —
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly m the Forehead —
But as they learn to see —
Either the Darkness alters —
Or something in the sight
Adjusts Itself to Midnight —
And Life steps almost straight.
441
This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me — The simple News that Nature told — With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed To Hands I cannot see — For love of Her — Sweet — countrymen — Judge tenderly — of Me
449
I died for Beauty — but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room —
He questioned softly "Why I failed"? "For Beauty", I replied — "And I — for Truth — Themself are One— We Bretheren, are", He said —
And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night— We talked between the Rooms — Until the Moss had reached our lips— And covered up — our names —
764
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 —
479
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 —
543
I fear a Man of frugal Speech
I fear a Silent Man
Haranguer — I can overtake
Or Babbler — entertain
But He who weigheth — While the Rest
Expend their furthest pound
Of this Man — I am wary —
I fear that He is Grand —
545
The Bible is an antique Volume Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectres Subjects — Bethlehem
Eden — the ancient Homestead Satan — the Brigadier Judas — the Great Defaulter David — the Troubadour
Sin — a distinguished Precipice Others must resist Boys that "believe" are very lonesome Other Boys are "lost"
Had but the Tale a warbling Teller All the Boys would come Orpheus' Sermon captivated It did not condemn
761
From Blank to Blank —
A Threadless Way
I pushed Mechanic feet —
To stop — or perish — or advance —
Alike indifferent —
If end I gained
It ends beyond
Indefinite disclosed —
I shut my eyes — and groped as well
'Twas lighter — to be Blind —
957
As One does Sickness over
In convalescent Mind,
His scrutiny of Chances
By blessed Health obscured —
As One rewalks a Precipice
And whittles at the Twig
That held Him from Perdition
Sown sidewise in the Crag
A Custom of the Soul
Far after suffering
Identity to question
For evidence 't has been —
964
"Unto Me?" I do not know you —
Where may be your House'
"I am Jesus — Late of Judea
Now — of Paradise" —
Wagons — have you — to convey me?
This is far from Thence —
"Arms of Mine — sufficient Phaeton —
Trust Omnipotence" —
I am spotted — "I am Pardon" —
I am small — "The Least
Is esteemed m Heaven the Chiefest —
Occupy my House" —
1176
We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies —
The Heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the Cubits warp For fear to be a King —
1358
The Treason of an accent
Might Ecstasy transfer —
Of her effacing Fathom
Is no Recoverer —
The Treason of an Accent
Might vilify the Joy —
To breathe — corrode the rapture
Of Sanctity to be —
1563
By homely gift and hindered Words
The human heart is told
Of Nothing —
"Nothing" is the force
That renovates the World
1733
No man saw awe, nor to his house
Admitted he a man
Though by his awful residence
Has human nature been.
Not deeming of his dread abode
Till laboring to flee
A grasp on comprehension laid
Detamed vitality.
Returning is a different route
The Spirit could not show
For breathing is the only work
To be enacted now.
"Am not consumed," old Moses wrote,
"Yet saw him face to face" —
That very physiognomy
I am convinced was this.
Публ. поизд.: The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by Thomas H. Johnson (Editor) Little, Brown and Company; New edition (January 1, 1960)