The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go —
The Crocus — til she rises
The Vassal of the snow —
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Til bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.

Pearls are the Diver’s farthings
Extorted from the Sea —
Pinions — the Seraph’s wagon
Pedestrian once — as we —
Night is the morning’s Canvas
Larceny — legacy —
Death, but our rapt attention
To Immortality.

My figures fail to tell me
How far the Village lies —
Whose peasants are the Angels —
Whose Cantons dot the skies —
My Classics veil their faces —
My faith that Dark adores —
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such ressurection pours.

5 Comments

  1. frumpo says:

    Earthly life teaches us that this life is a term of servitude that will be replaced in the next by a joyous fruition.

  2. Lois Kackley says:

    I just discovered this site and really read this poem for the first time. I always stopped somewhere around the second stanza. Boo for me! It’s a fascinating poem. Isn’t it great for backing us up to see importance in terms of its context; i.e. the “canvas” of night for “morning.” Gorgeous. I wonder how many other things I can “re-see” that way.

  3. Fredrick lokal says:

    This poem is the damn stupidest thing i have ever read and i read a lot! Plus i do not say stupid lightly!

  4. José Luis says:

    This great poem by Dickinson means that life is so great that people keep walking after death. In a town of angels-peasants, we will awake and walk towards the horizon of childhood again. Regards from Spain, Emily.

    José Luis

  5. Audren Glass says:

    “he jus keeps movin’ along. Time and tide wait for no man (or woman), but, ah!, man keeps up!

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