From Emily's Diary

What soft, cherubic creatures
These gentlewomen are!
One would as soon assault a plush
Or violate a star.

Such dimity convictions,
A horror so refined
Of freckled human nature,
Of Deity ashamed, -

It's such a common glory,
A fisherman's degree!
Redemption, brittle lady,
Be so, ashamed of thee.

It's coming -- the postponeless Creature --
It gains the Block -- and now -- it gains the Door --
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings --
Enters -- with a "You know Me -- Sir"?

Simple Salute -- and certain Recognition --
Bold -- were it Enemy -- Brief -- were it friend --
Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle --
And carries one -- out of it -- to God --

When roses cease to bloom, [dear]1, 
And violets are done,
When bumble-bees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the sun,

The hand that passed to gather
Upon this summer's day
Will idle lie, in Auburn, --
Then take my flower, pray!

"Unto Me?"  I do not know you --
Where may be your House?

"I am Jesus -- Late of Judea --
Now -- of Paradise" --

Wagons -- have you -- to convey me?
This is far from Thence --

"Arms of Mine -- sufficient Phaeton --
Trust Omnipotence" --

I am spotted -- "I am Pardon" --
I am small -- "The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the Chiefest --
Occupy my House" --

I dwell in Possibility - 
A fairer House than Prose - 
More numerous of Windows - 
Superior - for Doors - 

Of Chambers as the Cedars - 
Impregnable of Eye - 
And for an Everlasting Roof 
The Gambrels of the Sky - 

Of Visitors - the fairest - 
For Occupation - This - 
The spreading wide my narrow Hands 
To gather Paradise -

Not what we did, shall be the test
When act and will are done
But what our Lord infers we would
Had we diviner been -

Our share of night to bear,
Our share of morning,
Our blank in bliss to fill,
Our blank in scorning.

Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way.
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards - day!

[ ... ]

Is Heaven a Place -- a Sky -- a Tree?
Location's narrow way is for Ourselves --
Unto the Dead
There's no Geography --

[ ... ]

The daisy follows soft the sun,
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet.
He, waking, finds the flower near.
"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?
Because, sir, love is sweet!"

We are the flower, Thou the sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline,
We nearer steal to Thee, -
Enamoured of the parting west,
The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
Night's possibility!

My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!

I'll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks, -

Say, sea, take me!