Further Poems of Emily Dickinson/The tint I cannot take is best,
THE tint I cannot take is best,
The color too remote
That I could show it in bazaar
A guinea at a sight—
The color too remote
That I could show it in bazaar
A guinea at a sight—
The fine impalpable array
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra's company
Repeated in the sky—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra's company
Repeated in the sky—
The moments of dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a discontent
Too exquisite to tell—
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a discontent
Too exquisite to tell—
The eager look on landscapes
As if they just repressed
Some secret that was pushing,
Like chariots, in the breast—
As if they just repressed
Some secret that was pushing,
Like chariots, in the breast—
The pleading of the Summer,
That other prank of snow
That covers mystery with tulle
For fear the squirrels know—
That other prank of snow
That covers mystery with tulle
For fear the squirrels know—
Their graspless manners mock us,
Until the cheated eye
Shuts arrogantly in the grave,
Another way to see.
Until the cheated eye
Shuts arrogantly in the grave,
Another way to see.