Emily Dickinson

THIS is my letter to the world,

That never wrote to me,—

SUCCESS is counted sweetest

By those who ne‘er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain.

As he, defeated, dying,

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Break, agonized and clear.

IF I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

MINE by the right of the white election!

Mine by the royal seal!

Mine by the sign in the scarlet prison

Bars cannot conceal!

Mine, here in vision and in veto!

Mine, by the grave’s repeal

Titled, confirmed,—delirious charter!

Mine, while the ages steal!

IF you were coming in the fall,

I’d brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,

I’d wind the months in balls,

And put them each in separate drawers,

Until their time befalls.

IF you were coming in the fall,

I’d brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,

I’d wind the months in balls,

And put them each in separate drawers,

Until their time befalls.

I cannot live with you,

It would be life,

And life is over there

Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,

Putting up

Our life, his porcelain,

Like a cup

Nor could I rise with you,

Because your face

Would put out Jesus‘,

That new grace