large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb_1
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
XII. As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear, As for the lost we grapple, Though all the rest are here,    In broken mathematics We estimate our prize, Vast, in its fading ratio, To our penurious eyes! TWELVE AS BY THE DEAD WE LOVE TO SIT BECOME SO WONDROUS DEAR AS FOR THE LOST WE GRAPPLE THOUGH ALL THE REST ARE HERE IN BROKEN MATHEMATICS WE ESTIMATE OUR PRIZE VAST IN ITS FADING RATIO TO OUR PENURIOUS EYES
 wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, -- No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face. X. The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin, -- so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the bird, But rapid, like the roe; His fashions quaint, mosaic, Or, haply, mistletoe. His conversation seldom, His laughter like the breeze That dies away in dimples Among the pensive trees. Our interview was transient,-- Of me, himself was shy; And God forbid I look behind Since that appalling day! XI. Some, too fragile for winter winds, The thoughtful grave encloses, -- Tenderly tucking them in from frost Before their feet are cold. Never the treasures in her nest The cautious grave exposes, Building where schoolboy dare not look And sportsman is not bold. This covert have all the children Early aged, and often cold, -- Sparrows unnoticed by the Father; Lambs for whom time had not a fold. FROM A ROSE WHEN SUDDENLY ACROSS THE JUNE A WIND WITH FINGERS GOES THEY PERISHED IN THE SEAMLESS GRASS NO EYE COULD FIND THE PLACE BUT GOD ON HIS REPEALLESS LIST CAN SUMMON EVERY FACE TEN THE ONLY GHOST I EVER SAW WAS DRESSED IN MECHLIN SO HE WORE NO SANDAL ON HIS FOOT AND STEPPED LIKE FLAKES OF SNOW HIS GAIT WAS SOUNDLESS LIKE THE BIRD BUT RAPID LIKE THE ROE HIS FASHIONS QUAINT MOSAIC OR HAPLY MISTLETOE HIS CONVERSATION SELDOM HIS LAUGHTER LIKE THE BREEZE THAT DIES AWAY IN DIMPLES AMONG THE PENSIVE TREES OUR INTERVIEW WAS TRANSIENT OF ME HIMSELF WAS SHY AND GOD FORBID I LOOK BEHIND SINCE THAT APPALLING DAY ELEVEN SOME TOO FRAGILE FOR WINTER WINDS THE THOUGHTFUL GRAVE ENCLOSES TENDERLY TUCKING THEM IN FROM FROST BEFORE THEIR FEET ARE COLD NEVER THE TREASURES IN HER NEST THE CAUTIOUS GRAVE EXPOSES BUILDING WHERE SCHOOLBOY DARE NOT LOOK AND SPORTSMAN IS NOT BOLD THIS COVERT HAVE ALL THE CHILDREN EARLY AGED AND OFTEN COLD SPARROWS UNNOTICED BY THE FATHER LAMBS FOR WHOM TIME HAD NOT A FOLD
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_4_dickinson_64kb.flac