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The single hound : poems of a lifetime

Dickinson, Emily (1830-1886)

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TO SUE.
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THE SINGLE HOUND
 1. 
[I. Adventure most unto itself]
 2. 
[II. The Soul that hath a Guest]
 3. 
[III. Except the smaller size, no Lives are round]
 4. 
[IV. Fame is a fickle food]
 5. 
[V. The right to perish might be thought]
 6. 
[VI. Peril as a possession]
 7. 
[VII. When Etna basks and purrs]
 8. 
[VIII. Reverse cannot befall that fine Prosperity]
 9. 
[IX. To be alive is power]
 10. 
[X. Witchcraft has not a pedigree]
 11. 
[XI. Exhilaration is the Breeze]
 12. 
[XII. No romance sold unto]
 13. 
[XIII. If what we could were what we would]
 14. 
[XIV. Perception of an Object costs]
 15. 
[XV. No other can reduce]
 16. 
[XVI. The blunder is to estimate]
 17. 
[XVII. My Wheel is in the dark]
 18. 
[XVIII. There is another Loneliness]
 19. 
[XIX. So gay a flower bereaved the mind]
 20. 
[XX. Glory is that bright tragic thing]
 21. 
[XXI. The missing All prevented me]
 22. 
[XXII. His mind, of man a secret makes]
 23. 
[XXIII. The suburbs of a secret]
 24. 
[XXIV. The difference between despair]
 25. 
[XXV. There is a solitude of space]
 26. 
[XXVI. The props assist the house]
 27. 
[XXVII. The gleam of an heroic act]
 28. 
[XXVIII. Of Death the sharpest function]
 29. 
[XXIX. Down Time's quaint stream]
 30. 
[XXX. I bet with every Wind that blew, till Nature in chagrin]
 31. 
[XXXI. The Future never spoke]
 32. 
[XXXII. Two lengths has every day]
 33. 
[XXXIII. The Soul's superior instants]
 34. 
[XXXIV. Nature is what we see]
 35. 
[XXXV. Ah, Teneriffe]
 36. 
[XXXVI. She died at play]
 37. 
[XXXVII. “Morning” means “Milking” to the Farmer]
 38. 
[XXXVIII. A little madness in the Spring]
 39. 
[XXXIX. I can't tell you, but you feel it]
 40. 
[XL. Some Days retired from the rest]
 41. 
[XLI. Like Men and Women shadows walk]
 42. 
[XLII. The butterfly obtains]
 43. 
[XLIII. Beauty crowds me till I die]
 44. 
[XLIV. We spy the Forests and the Hills]
 45. 
[XLV. I never told the buried gold]
 46. 
[XLVI. The largest fire ever known]
 47. 
[XLVII. Bloom upon the Mountain, stated]
 48. 
[XLVIII. March is the month of expectation]
 49. 
[XLIX. The Duties of the Wind are few]
 50. 
[L. The Winds drew off]
 51. 
[LI. I think that the root of the Wind is Water]
 52. 
[LII. So, from the mould]
 53. 
[LIII. The long sigh of the Frog]
 54. 
[LIV. A cap of lead across the sky]
 55. 
[LV. I send two Sunsets]
 56. 
[LVI. Of this is Day composed]
 57. 
[LVII. The Hills erect their purple heads]
 58. 
[LVIII. Lightly stepped a yellow star]
 59. 
[LIX. The Moon upon her fluent route]
 60. 
[LX. Like some old fashioned miracle]
 61. 
[LXI. Glowing is her Bonnet]
 62. 
[LXII. Forever cherished be the tree]
 63. 
[LXIII. The Ones that disappeared are back]
 64. 
[LXIV. Those final Creatures,—who they are]
 65. 
[LXV. Summer begins to have the look]
 66. 
[LXVI. A prompt, executive Bird is the Jay]
 67. 
[LXVII. Like brooms of steel]
 68. 
[LXVIII. These are the days that Reindeer love]
 69. 
[LXIX. Follow wise Orion]
 70. 
[LXX. In Winter, in my room]
 71. 
[LXXI. Not any sunny tone]
 72. 
[LXXII. For Death,—or rather]
 73. 
[LXXIII. Dropped into the Ether Acre]
 74. 
[LXXIV. This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies]
 75. 
[LXXV. 'Twas comfort in her dying room]
 76. 
[LXXVI. Too cold is this]
 77. 
[LXXVII. I watched her face to see which way]
 78. 
[LXXVIII. Today or this noon]
 79. 
[LXXIX. I see thee better in the dark]
 80. 
[LXXX. Low at my problem bending]
 81. 
[LXXXI. If pain for peace prepares]
 82. 
[LXXXII. I fit for them]
 83. 
[LXXXIII. Not one by Heaven defrauded stay]
 84. 
[LXXXIV. The feet of people walking home]
 85. 
[LXXXV. We should not mind so small a flower]
 86. 
[LXXXVI. To the staunch Dust we safe commit thee]
 87. 
[LXXXVII. Her “Last Poems”]
 88. 
[LXXXVIII. Immured in Heaven! What a Cell!]
 89. 
[LXXXIX. I'm thinking of that other morn]
 90. 
[XC. The overtakelessness of those]
 91. 
[XCI. The Look of Thee, what is it like?]
 92. 
[XCII. The Devil, had he fidelity]
 93. 
[XCIII. Papa above]
 94. 
[XCIV. Not when we know]
 95. 
[XCV. Elijah's wagon knew no thill]
 96. 
[XCVI. “Remember me,” implored the Thief]
 97. 
[XCVII. To this apartment deep]
 98. 
[XCVIII. Sown in dishonor?]
 99. 
[XCIX. Who is it seeks my pillow nights?]
 100. 
[C. His Cheek is his Biographer]
 101. 
[CI. “Heavenly Father,” take to thee]
 102. 
[CII. The sweets of Pillage can be known]
 103. 
[CIII. A little over Jordan]
 104. 
[CIV. Dust is the only secret]
 105. 
[CV. Ambition cannot find him]
 106. 
[CVI. Eden is that old fashioned House]
 107. 
[CVII. Candor, my tepid Friend]
 108. 
[CVIII. Speech is a symptom of affection]
 109. 
[CIX. Who were “the Father and the Son”]
 110. 
[CX. That Love is all there is]
 111. 
[CXI. The luxury to apprehend]
 112. 
[CXII. The Sea said “Come” to the Brook]
 113. 
[CXIII. All I may, if small]
 114. 
[CXIV. Love reckons by itself alone]
 115. 
[CXV. The inundation of the Spring]
 116. 
[CXVI. No Autumn's intercepting chill]
 117. 
[CXVII. Volcanoes be in Sicily]
 118. 
[CXVIII. Distance is not the realm of Fox]
 119. 
[CXIX. The treason of an accent]
 120. 
[CXX. How destitute is he]
 121. 
[CXXI. Crisis is sweet and, set the Heart]
 122. 
[CXXII. To tell the beauty would decrease]
 123. 
[CXXIII. To love thee, year by year]
 124. 
[CXXIV. I showed her heights she never saw]
 125. 
[CXXV. On my volcano grows the grass]
 126. 
[CXXVI. If I could tell how glad I was]
 127. 
[CXXVII. Her Grace is all she has]
 128. 
[CXXVIII. No matter where the Saints abide]
 129. 
[CXXIX. To see her is a picture]
 130. 
[CXXX. So set its sun in thee]
 131. 
[CXXXI. Had this one day not been]
 132. 
[CXXXII. That she forgot me was the least]
 133. 
[CXXXIII. The incidents of Love]
 134. 
[CXXXIV. Just so, Jesus raps—He does not weary]
 135. 
[CXXXV. Safe Despair it is that raves]
 136. 
[CXXXVI. The Face we choose to miss]
 137. 
[CXXXVII. Of so divine a loss]
 138. 
[CXXXVIII. The healed Heart shows its shallow scar]
 139. 
[CXXXIX. To pile like Thunder to its close]
 140. 
[CXL. The Stars are old, that stood for me]
 141. 
[CXLI. All circumstances are the frame]
 142. 
[CXLII. I did not reach thee]

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41

[XXXIX. I can't tell you, but you feel it]

I can't tell you, but you feel it—
Nor can you tell me,
Saints with vanished slate and pencil
Solve our April day.
Sweeter than a vanished Frolic
From a vanished Green!
Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen
Round a ledge of Dream!
Modest, let us walk among it,
With our “faces veiled,”
As they say polite Archangels
Do, in meeting God.
Not for me to prate about it,
Not for you to say
To some fashionable Lady—
“Charming April Day!”
42

Rather Heaven's “Peter Parley,”
By which, Children—slow—
To sublimer recitations
Are prepared to go!
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