large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_1_dickinson_64kb_6
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_1_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
IV. We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar, And our new hands Learned gem tactics Practising sands. FOUR WE PLAY AT PASTE TILL QUALIFIED FOR PEARL THEN DROP THE PASTE AND DEEM OURSELVES A FOOL THE SHAPES THOUGH WERE SIMILAR AND OUR NEW HANDS LEARNED GEM TACTICS PRACTISING SANDS
customed wine To lips long parching, next to mine, And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay; I turn my brimming eyes away, And come next hour to look. The hands still hug the tardy glass; The lips I would have cooled, alas! Are so superfluous cold, I would as soon attempt to warm The bosoms where the frost has lain Ages beneath the mould. Some other thirsty there may be To whom this would have pointed me Had it remained to speak. And so I always bear the cup If, haply, mine may be the drop Some pilgrim thirst to slake, -- If, haply, any say to me, "Unto the little, unto me," When I at last awake. III. The nearest dream recedes, unrealized. The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race; Stoops to an easy clover -- Dips -- evades -- teases -- deploys; Then to the royal clouds Lifts his light pinnace Heedless of the boy Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky. Homesick for steadfast honey, Ah! the bee flies not That brews that rare variety. HE LIVELONG DAY TO AN ADMIRING BOG TWO I BRING AN UNACCUSTOMED WINE TO LIPS LONG PARCHING NEXT TO MINE AND SUMMON THEM TO DRINK CRACKLING WITH FEVER THEY ESSAY I TURN MY BRIMMING EYES AWAY AND COME NEXT HOUR TO LOOK THE HANDS STILL HUG THE TARDY GLASS THE LIPS I WOULD HAVE COOLED ALAS ARE SO SUPERFLUOUS COLD I WOULD AS SOON ATTEMPT TO WARM THE BOSOMS WHERE THE FROST HAS LAIN AGES BENEATH THE MOULD SOME OTHER THIRSTY THERE MAY BE TO WHOM THIS WOULD HAVE POINTED ME HAD IT REMAINED TO SPEAK AND SO I ALWAYS BEAR THE CUP IF HAPLY MINE MAY BE THE DROP SOME PILGRIM THIRST TO SLAKE IF HAPLY ANY SAY TO ME UNTO THE LITTLE UNTO ME WHEN I AT LAST AWAKE THE NEAREST DREAM RECEDES UNREALISED THE HEAVEN WE CHASE LIKE THE JUNE BEE BEFORE THE SCHOOL BOY INVITES THE RACE STOOPS TO AN EASY CLOVER DIPS EVADES TEASES DEPLOYS THEN TO THE ROYAL CLOUDS LIFTS HIS LIGHT PINNACE HEEDLESS OF THE BOY STARING BEWILDERED AT THE MOCKING SKY HOMESICK FOR STEADFAST HONEY AH THE BEE FLIES NOT THAT BREWS THAT RARE VARIETY
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