duccio: (portrait)
[personal profile] duccio

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This came in my email Monday. It's the every other day installment of the poems of Emily Dickinson that I subscribe to from DailyLit. Many of the poems I can't quite relate to. The spiritual certainty of some of them often irks me and I hit the delete button, hardly having finished reading, but then there are the others that reveal doubt. They are worth waiting for...

This one seemed to come about a week late. I always hope somewhere down deep that I will hear something, see or feel something, but I am confirmed in my own certitude that I never will, and never have. Though this one coming late, it will do.


        IV.

        We cover thee, sweet face.
        Not that we tire of thee,
        But that thyself fatigue of us;
        Remember, as thou flee,
        We follow thee until
        Thou notice us no more,
        And then, reluctant, turn away
        To con thee o'er and o'er,
        And blame the scanty love
        We were content to show,
        Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold
        If thou would'st take it now.

            Emily Dickinson


(no subject)

Date: 2011-09-22 12:49 pm (UTC)
shinsetsu: (Metamorphosis)
From: [personal profile] shinsetsu
What does this poem mean to you?

(no subject)

Date: 2011-09-22 01:33 pm (UTC)
shinsetsu: (雪猫 Yuki neko)
From: [personal profile] shinsetsu
I always hope for that--that the people I loved who just up and left me without a backward glance, might someday realise their loss, but sadly, I dun think that will ever happen, so I guess I should just content myself with the 'inner life' as I was reading in my book this morning.

(no subject)

Date: 2011-09-22 07:57 pm (UTC)
shinsetsu: (kitteh)
From: [personal profile] shinsetsu
Thank you duccio. I'll think on it, but I dun ever want to feel close to anybody again.

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