Poetry

I cannot live with You (640) by Emily Dickinson
I cannot live with You
It would be Life
And Life is over in that location
Behind the Shelf

The sexton keeps the Key to
Putting up
Our Life His Porcelain
Like a cup

Discarded of the Housewife
Quaint or Broke
A newer Sevres pleases
Old Ones crack

I could not die with You
For One moldiness wait
To shut the Others Gaze down
You could not

And I could I stand by
And see You freeze
Without my Right of Frost
Deaths exemption?





Nor could I rise with You
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus
That New Grace

smoothen plain and foreign
On my homesick Eye
Except that You than He
Shone close together(predicate) by

Theyd judge Us How
For You served Heaven You know,
Or sine qua non to
I could not

Because You saturated Sight
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise

And were You lost, I would be
though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly fame

And were You saved
And I condemned to be
Where You were not
That self were Hell to Me

So We must meet apart
You there I here
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are and orison
And that White Sustenance
Despair

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers By: Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

Ive heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.


If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda
I pauperism you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
come along the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
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