Fascicle One, Sheet 2d

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Bonaventure Cemetery, Savannah

She slept beneath a tree–
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute–
She recognized the foot–
Put on her Carmine suit
And see!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

 

Fascicle One, Sheet 2c

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As if I asked a common alms–
And in my wondering hand,
A stranger pressed a kingdom–
And I–bewildered stand–
As if I asked the Orient
Had it for me a morn?
And it sh’d lift its purple dikes
And flood me with the Dawn!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

Fascicle One, Sheet 2b

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Pinckney Island National Wildlife Refuge

There is a morn by men unseen–
Whose maids upon remoter green
Keep their seraphic May–
And all day long, with dance and game,
And gambol I may never name–
Employ their holiday.

Here to light measure, move the feet
Which walk no more on village street–
Nor by the wood are found–
Here are the birds that sought the sun
When last year’s distaff idle hung
And summer’s brows were bound.

Ne’er saw I such a wondrous scene–
Ne’er such a ring on such a green–
Nor so serene array–
As if the stars some summer night
Should swing their cups of Chrysolite–
And revel till the day–

Like thee to dance–like thee to sing–
People upon that mystic green–
I ask, each new May morn.
I wait they far–fantastic bells–
Announcing me in other dells–
Unto the different dawn!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

Fascicle One, Sheet 2a

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I had a guinea golden–
I lost it in the sand–
And tho’ the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land–
Still had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye–
That when I could not find it–
I sat me down to sigh.

I had a crimson Robin–
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted–
He–too–did fly away–
Time brought me other Robins–
Their ballads were the same–
Still, for my missing Troubador
I kept the “house at hame”.

I had a star in heaven–
One “Pleiad” was its name–
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same–
And tho’ the skies are crowded–
And all the night ashine–
I do not care about it–
Since none of them are mine.

My story has a moral–
I have a missing friend–
“Pleiad” its name–and Robin–
And guinea in the sand–
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with a tear–
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here–
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind–
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.
~~ Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858

Fascicle One, Sheet 1j

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To lose–if One can find again–
To miss–if One shall meet–
The Burglar cannot rob–then–
The Broker cannot cheat.
So build the hillocks gaily–
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine–
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know–
Let us chant it softly–
There is no more snow”!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. late summer 1858