Emily Dickinson Poems

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The Tint I cannot take -- is best --
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar --
A Guinea at a sight --

The fine -- impalpable Array --
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra's Company --
Repeated -- in the sky --

The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite -- to tell --

The eager look -- on Landscapes --
As if they just repressed
Some Secret -- that was pushing
Like Chariots -- in the Vest --

The Pleading of the Summer --
That other Prank -- of Snow --
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels -- know.

Their Graspless manners -- mock us --
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly -- in the Grave --
Another way -- to see --

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