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Thursday, November 17, 2005


Back to the poetry
For once it's not 4 in the morning, but it will be in ten minutes. Well, I'm gonna share with you lovely people another Dickinson poem. It's my second favorite one; I used to like saying it out loud to people randomly in conversations. It's hard to fit a poem this long in a regular conversation, so it had to be random when I did it. Enjoy it, please.

Again- his voice is at the door-
I feel the old Degree-
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one- as me-

I take a flower- as I go-
My face to justify-
He never saw me- in this life-
I might surprise his eye!

I cross the Hall with mingled steps-
I- silent- pass the door-
I look on all this world contains-
Just his face- nothing more!

We talk in careless- and in toss-
A kind of plummet strain-
Each- sounding- shyly-
Just- how- deep-
The other's one- had been-

We walk- I leave my Dog- at home-
A tender- thoughtful Moon
Goes with us- just a little way-
And- then- we are alone-

Alone- if Angels are "alone"-
First time they try the sky!
Alone- if those "veiled faces"- be-
We cannot count- on High!

I'd give- to live that hour- again-
The purple- in my Vein-
But He must count the drops- himself-
My price got every stain!


And that's it for this week's Dickinson poem. You know you love this poem! Hasta...

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