| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 535. Life |
| | | By Emily Dickinson |
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LIFE
OUR share of night to bear, | |
| Our share of morning, | |
| Our blank in bliss to fill, | |
| Our blank in scorning. | |
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| Here a star, and there a star, | 5 |
| Some lose their way. | |
| Here a mist, and there a mist, | |
| Afterwards—day! | |
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A BOOK
HE ate and drank the precious words, | |
| His spirit grew robust; | 10 |
| He knew no more that he was poor, | |
| Nor that his frame was dust. | |
| He danced along the dingy days, | |
| And this bequest of wings | |
| Was but a book. What liberty | 15 |
| A loosened spirit brings! | |
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UTTERANCE
I FOUND the phrase to every thought | |
| I ever had, but one; | |
| And that defies me,—as a hand | |
| Did try to chalk the sun | 20 |
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| To races nurtured in the dark:— | |
| How would your own begin? | |
| Can blaze be done in cochineal, | |
| Or noon in mazarin? | |
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WITH FLOWERS
IF recollecting were forgetting, | 25 |
| Then I remember not; | |
| And if forgetting, recollecting, | |
| How near I had forgot! | |
| And if to miss were merry, | |
| And if to mourn were gay, | 30 |
| How very blithe the fingers | |
| That gathered these to-day! | |
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PARTING
MY life closed twice before its close; | |
| It yet remains to see | |
| If Immortality unveil | 35 |
| A third event to me, | |
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| So huge, so hopeless to conceive, | |
| As these that twice befell: | |
| Parting is all we know of heaven, | |
| And all we need of hell. | 40 |
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CALLED BACK
JUST lost when I was saved! | |
| Just felt the world go by! | |
| Just girt me for the onset with eternity, | |
| When breath blew back, | |
| And on the other side | 45 |
| I heard recede the disappointed tide! | |
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| Therefore, as one returned, I feel, | |
| Odd secrets of the line to tell! | |
| Some sailor, skirting foreign shores, | |
| Some pale reporter from the awful doors | 50 |
| Before the seal! | |
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| Next time, to stay! | |
| Next time, the things to see | |
| By ear unheard, | |
| Unscrutinized by eye. | 55 |
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| Next time, to tarry, | |
| While the ages steal,— | |
| Slow tramp the centuries, | |
| And the cycles wheel. | |
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