Poetessa, nato venerdì 10 dicembre 1830 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America), morto sabato 15 maggio 1886 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America)
Except the Heaven had come so near - So seemed to choose My Door - The Distance would not haunt me so - I had not hoped - before - But just to hear the Grace depart - I never thought to see - Afflicts me with a Double loss - 'Tis lost - and lost to me.
A Night - there lay the Days between - The Day that was Before - And Day that was Behind - were One - And now - 'twas Night - was here - Slow - Night - that must be watched away - As Grains upon a shore - Too imperceptible to note - Till it be Night - no more.
I am alive - I guess - The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory - And at my finger's end - The Carmine - tingles warm - And if I hold a Glass Across my Mouth - it blurs it - Physician's - proof of Breath -
I am alive - because I am not in a Room - The Parlor - Commonly - it is - So Visitors may come -
And lean - and view it sidewise - And add "How cold - it grew" - And "Was it conscious - when it stepped In Immortality? "
I am alive - because I do not own a House - Entitled to myself - precise - And fitting no one else -
And marked my Girlhood's name - So Visitors may know Which Door is mine - and not not mistake - And try another Key -
How good - to be alive! How infinite - to be Alive - two-fold - The Birth I had - And this - besides, in Thee!
The Red - Blaze - is the Morning - The Violet - is Noon - The Yellow - Day - is falling - And after that - is None - But Miles of Sparks - at Evening - Reveal the Width that burned - The Territory Argent - that never yet - consumed.
A Wife - at Daybreak - I shall be - Sunrise - Hast Thou a Flag for me? At Midnight - I am yet a Maid - How short it takes to make it Bride - Then - Midnight - I have passed from Thee - Unto the East - and Victory. Midnight - Good Night - I hear them Call - The Angels bustle in the Hall - Softly - my Future climbs the Stair - I fumble at my Childhood's Prayer - So soon to be a Child - no more - Eternity - I'm coming - Sir - Master - I've seen the Face - before.
I know where Wells grow - Droughtless Wells - Deep dug - for Summer days - Where Mosses go no more away - And Pebble - safely plays - It's made of Fathoms - and a Belt - A Belt of jagged Stone - Inlaid with Emerald - half way down - And Diamonds - jumbled on -
It has no Bucket - Were I rich A Bucket I would buy - I'm often thirsty - but my lips Are so high up - You see -
I read in an Old fashioned Book That People "thirst no more" - The Wells have Buckets to them there - It must mean that - I'm sure -
Shall We remember Parching - then? Those Waters sound so grand - I think a little Well - like Mine - Dearer to understand.
A Tooth upon Our Peace The Peace cannot deface - Then Wherefore be the Tooth? To vitalize the Grace - The Heaven hath a Hell - Itself to signalize - And every sign before the Place - Is Gilt with Sacrifice.
Like Eyes that looked on Wastes - Incredulous of Ought But Blank - and steady Wilderness - Diversified by Night - Just Infinites of Nought - As far as it could see - So looked the face I looked upon - So looked itself - on Me -
I offered it no Help - Because the Cause was Mine - The Misery a Compact As hopeless - as divine -
Neither - would be absolved - Neither would be a Queen Without the Other - Therefore - We perish - tho' We reign.
Sweet - safe - Houses - Glad - gay - Houses - Sealed so stately tight - Lids of Steel - on Lids of Marble - Locking Barefeet out - Brooks of Plush - in Banks of Satin Not so softly fall As the laughter - and the whisper - From their People Pearl -
No Bald Death - affront their Parlors - No Bold Sickness come To deface their stately Treasures - Anguish - and the Tomb -
Hum by - in muffled Coaches - Lest they - wonder Why - Any - for the Press of Smiling - Interrupt - to die -.