| Digte - af Emily Dickinson Dagen er ny og ren Dagen er ny og ren, tro det under den bringer. Fuglen slipper sin gren og den tror sine vinger Hvis jeg kan forhindre et hjerte i at knuses, har jeg ikke leet forgæves; hvis jeg kan lindre et livs smerte eller dulme et sår, eller hjælpe en forpjusket rødkælk på vingerne igen, har jeg ikke levet forgæves. Come slowly, Eden COME slowly, Eden! Lips unused to thee, Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee, Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums, Counts his nectars--enters, And is lost in balms! If I shoul die If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done; If birds should build as early, And bees as bustling go,-- One might depart at option From enterprise below! 'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with daisies lie, That commerce will continue, And trades as briskly fly. It make the parting tranquil And keeps the soul serene, That gentlemen so sprightly Conduct the pleasing scene! My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun In Corners — till a Day The Owner passed — identified And carried Me away And now We roam in Sovereign Woods And now We hunt the Doe And every time I speak for Him The Mountains straight reply And do I smile, such cordial light 10 Upon the Valley glow It is as a Vesuvian face Has let its pleasure through And when at Night — Our good Day done I guard My Master's Head 15 'Tis better than the Eider-Duck's Deep Pillow — to have shared To foe of His — I'm deadly foe None stir the second time On whom I lay a Yellow Eye 20 Or an emphatic Thumb. Though I than He — may longer live He longer must — than I For I have but the power — to kill Without — the power to die. I died for Beauty — but was scarce I died for Beauty — but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly "Why I failed"? "For Beauty", I replied "And I — for Truth — Themself are One We Brethren, are", He said. And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night 10 We talked between the Rooms Until the Moss had reached our lips And covered up — our names. |
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