Tag Archives: Emily Dickinson

An Interlude by Sally Cook

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He was the stream and she the underbrush,

The rain that fell upon his upturned face.

She was the shadowed glade in evening’s hush

That, blotting out the sun, absorbed its grace.

She was the sea, and he the wavering shore—

The harvest moon that hung above her door.

 

A thousand stars crowded to hold one thought

When similes, comparisons were all

That she was left with after she was taught

That streams dry up, butt up against a wall

Where tangled roots are tripped upon in haste.

Sweet woodruff, poison ivy, interlaced.

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For more from Sally Cook, and a bio, go here.

The painting, “White Garden, Emily Dickinson,” was created by the poet while a Wilbur Fellow in 1986.

 

A Light exists in Spring

by Emily Dickinson

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period—
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then, as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes, and we stay—

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.