Poems by Emily Dickinson Part 30

XVII.

Who robbed the woods, The trusting woods?

The unsuspecting trees Brought out their burrs and mosses His fantasy to please.

He scanned their trinkets, curious, He grasped, he bore away.

What will the solemn hemlock, What will the fir-tree say?

XVIII.

TWO VOYAGERS.

Two b.u.t.terflies went out at noon And waltzed above a stream, Then stepped straight through the firmament And rested on a beam;

And then together bore away Upon a s.h.i.+ning sea, -- Though never yet, in any port, Their coming mentioned be.

If spoken by the distant bird, If met in ether sea By frigate or by merchantman, Report was not to me.

XIX.

BY THE SEA.

I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the bas.e.m.e.nt Came out to look at me,

And frigates in the upper floor Extended hempen hands, Presuming me to be a mouse Aground, upon the sands.

But no man moved me till the tide Went past my simple shoe, And past my ap.r.o.n and my belt, And past my bodice too,

And made as he would eat me up As wholly as a dew Upon a dandelion's sleeve -- And then I started too.

And he -- he followed close behind; I felt his silver heel Upon my ankle, -- then my shoes Would overflow with pearl.

Until we met the solid town, No man he seemed to know; And bowing with a mighty look At me, the sea withdrew.

XX.

OLD-FAs.h.i.+ONED.

Arcturus is his other name, -- I'd rather call him star!

It's so unkind of science To go and interfere!

I pull a flower from the woods, -- A monster with a gla.s.s Computes the stamens in a breath, And has her in a cla.s.s.

Whereas I took the b.u.t.terfly Aforetime in my hat, He sits erect in cabinets, The clover-bells forgot.

What once was heaven, is zenith now.

Where I proposed to go When time's brief masquerade was done, Is mapped, and charted too!

What if the poles should frisk about And stand upon their heads!

I hope I 'm ready for the worst, Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed!

I hope the children there Won't be new-fas.h.i.+oned when I come, And laugh at me, and stare!

I hope the father in the skies Will lift his little girl, -- Old-fas.h.i.+oned, naughty, everything, -- Over the stile of pearl!

XXI.

A TEMPEST.

An awful tempest mashed the air, The clouds were gaunt and few; A black, as of a spectre's cloak, Hid heaven and earth from view.

The creatures chuckled on the roofs And whistled in the air, And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth.

And swung their frenzied hair.

The morning lit, the birds arose; The monster's faded eyes Turned slowly to his native coast, And peace was Paradise!

XXII.

THE SEA.

An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.

XXIII.