Home ⇒ 📌Emily Dickinson ⇒ The Veins of other Flowers
The Veins of other Flowers
The Veins of other Flowers
The Scarlet Flowers are
Till Nature leisure has for Terms
As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
We pass, and she abides.
We conjugate Her Skill
While She creates and federates
Without a syllable.
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- She bore it till the simple veins She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand. Till Daffodils had come and gone I cannot tell the sum, And then she ceased to bear it And with the Saints sat down. No more her patient figure At twilight soft to […]...
- The trees in the garden rained flowers The trees in the garden rained flowers. Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some Who gathered great heaps Having opportunity and skill Until, behold, only chance blossoms Remained for the feeble. Then a little spindling tutor Ran importantly to the father, crying: “Pray, come hither! See this […]...
- When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins When we are old and these rejoicing veins Are frosty channels to a muted stream, And out of all our burning their remains No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream, This be our solace: that it was not said When we were young and warm and in our prime, Upon our couch we […]...
- Flowers Well if anybody Flowers Well if anybody Can the ecstasy define Half a transport half a trouble With which flowers humble men: Anybody find the fountain From which floods so contra flow I will give him all the Daisies Which upon the hillside blow. Too much pathos in their faces For a simple breast like mine Butterflies from […]...
- THE APRON OF FLOWERS To gather flowers, Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent, The treasure of the Spring. She smiling blush’d, and blushing smiled, And sweetly blushing thus, She look’d as she’d been got with child By young Favonius. Her apron gave, as she did pass, An odour more divine, More pleasing too, than […]...
- The Reaper and the Flowers There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. “Shall I have naught that is fair?” saith he; “Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give […]...
- How many Flowers fail in Wood How many Flowers fail in Wood Or perish from the Hill Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful How many cast a nameless Pod Upon the nearest Breeze Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight It bear to Other Eyes...
- Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews, But never deemed the dripping prize Awaited their low Brows Or Bees that thought the Summer’s name Some rumor of Delirium, No Summer could for Them Or Arctic Creatures, dimly stirred By Tropic Hint some Travelled Bird Imported to the Wood Or Wind’s bright signal to the […]...
- The Death of the Flowers The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs […]...
- I tend my flowers for thee I tend my flowers for thee Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip while the Sower dreams Geraniums tint and spot Low Daisies dot My Cactus splits her Beard To show her throat Carnations tip their spice And Bees pick up A Hyacinth I hid Puts out a Ruffled Head And odors fall From flasks […]...
- Moccasin Flowers All my life, So far, I have loved More than one thing, Including the mossy hooves Of dreams, including’ The spongy litter Under the tall trees. In spring The moccasin flowers Reach for the crackling Lick of the sun And burn down. Sometimes, In the shadows, I see the hazy eyes, The lamb-lips Of oblivion, […]...
- Flowers Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth’s firmament do shine. Stars they are, wherein we read our history, As astrologers and seers of eld; Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, Like the burning […]...
- Oh, see how thick the goldcup flowers Oh, see how thick the goldcup flowers Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours That never are told again. Oh may I squire you round the meads And pick you posies gay? ‘Twill do no harm to take my arm. ‘You may, young man, you may.’ Ah, spring was sent […]...
- The Fury Of Flowers And Worms Let the flowers make a journey On Monday so that I can see Ten daisies in a blue vase With perhaps one red ant Crawling to the gold center. A bit of the field on my table, Close to the worms Who struggle blinding, Moving deep into their slime, Moving deep into God’s abdomen, Moving […]...
- Flowers in Winter How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine and of showers! How well the conscious wood retains The pictures of its flower-sown home, The lights and shades, the purple stains, And golden hues of bloom! It was a happy thought to bring To […]...
- To Flowers From Italy in Winter Sunned in the South, and here to-day; If all organic things Be sentient, Flowers, as some men say, What are your ponderings? How can you stay, nor vanish quite From this bleak spot of thorn, And birch, and fir, and frozen white Expanse of the forlorn? Frail luckless exiles hither brought! Your dust will not […]...
- 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
- Amidst the Flowers a Jug of Wine Amidst the flowers a jug of wine, I pour alone lacking companionship. So raising the cup I invite the Moon, Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us. Because the Moon does not know how to drink, My shadow merely follows the movement of my body. The moon has brought the shadow to […]...
- If the foolish, call them "flowers" If the foolish, call them “flowers” Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well! Those who read the “Revelations” Must not criticize Those who read the same Edition With beclouded Eyes! Could we stand with that Old “Moses” “Canaan” denied Scan like him, the stately landscape On the other […]...
- Leaves Compared With Flowers A tree’s leaves may be ever so good, So may its bar, so may its wood; But unless you put the right thing to its root It never will show much flower or fruit. But I may be one who does not care Ever to have tree bloom or bear. Leaves for smooth and bark […]...
- Sonnet 44 – Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers Plucked in the garden, all the summer through And winter, and it seemed as if they grew In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers. So, in the like name of that love of ours, Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too, And which on […]...
- The Flowers Ye offspring of the morning sun, Ye flowers that deck the smiling plain, Your lives, in joy and bliss begun, In Nature’s love unchanged remain. With hues of bright and godlike splendor Sweet Flora graced your forms so tender, And clothed ye in a garb of light; Spring’s lovely children weep forever, For living souls […]...
- 264. Song-On a Bank of Flowers ON a bank of flowers, in a summer day, For summer lightly drest, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie, wand’ring thro’ the wood, Who for her favour oft had sued; He gaz’d, he wish’d He fear’d, he blush’d, And trembled where he stood. Her closèd eyes, like weapons sheath’d, […]...
- The Tuft of Flowers I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun. The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the leveled scene. I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone on the breeze. But he […]...
- The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
- At Daybreak I listen for him through the rain, And in the dusk of starless hours I know that he will come again; Loth was he ever to forsake me: He comes with glimmering of flowers And stir of music to awake me. Spirit of purity, he stands As once he lived in charm and grace: I […]...
- The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
- Flowers I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun; – But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of everyone. The pea is but a wanton witch, […]...
- Wayside Flowers Pluck not the wayside flower, It is the traveller’s dower; A thousand passers-by Its beauties may espy, May win a touch of blessing From Nature’s mild caressing. The sad of heart perceives A violet under leaves Like sonic fresh-budding hope; The primrose on the slope A spot of sunshine dwells, And cheerful message tells Of […]...
- Lenten Flowers Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross And the ash-tree’s purple bud Dresses the spear that sheds his blood. With the thorns that pierce his brow Soft encircling petals grow For in each flower the secret lies Of the tree that crucifies. Garden by the water clear All must die who […]...
- At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
- On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
- The Gardener IV: Ah Me Ah me, why did they build my House by the road to the market Town? They moor their laden boats near My trees. They come and go and wander at Their will. I sit and watch them; my time Wears on. Turn them away I cannot. And Thus my days pass by. Night and day […]...
- The Flowers All the names I know from nurse: Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse, Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames These must all be fairy names! Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree-tops, rose or […]...
- Flood-Tide of Flowers IN HOLLAND The laggard winter ebbed so slow With freezing rain and melting snow, It seemed as if the earth would stay Forever where the tide was low, In sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight, The tide is turning in the night, And floods of color long concealed Come […]...
- February: Thinking of Flowers Now wind torments the field, Turning the white surface back On itself, back and back on itself, Like an animal licking a wound. Nothing but white the air, the light; Only one brown milkweed pod Bobbing in the gully, smallest Brown boat on the immense tide. A single green sprouting thing Would restore me. . […]...
- How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
- The Picture Of Little T. C. In A Prospect Of Flowers See with what simplicity This Nimph begins her golden daies! In the green Grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair Aspect tames The Wilder flow’rs, and gives them names: But only with the Roses playes; And them does tell What Colour best becomes them, and what Smell. Who can foretel for what […]...
- Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
- Beauty be not caused It Is Beauty be not caused It Is Chase it, and it ceases Chase it not, and it abides Overtake the Creases In the Meadow when the Wind Runs his fingers thro’ it Deity will see to it That You never do it...
« Dharma