Emily Dickenson Memory Work

Name______Date___ Period______Emily Dickenson Memory Work

This Is My Letter to the World Success Is Counted Sweetest

This is my letter to the world Success is counted sweetest That never wrote to me— By those who ne’er succeed. The simple news that nature told— To comprehend a nectar With tender Majesty Requires sorest need.

Her Message is committed Not one of all the purple Host To Hands I cannot see— Who took the flag today For love of Her—Sweet-- countrymen— Can tell the definition Judge tenderly— of Me So clear of Victory

The Soul Selects Her Own Society As he defeated— dying— On whose forbidden ear The Soul selects her own Society— The distant strains of triumph Then— shuts the Door— Burst agonized and clear! To her divine Majority— Present no more— Because I Could Not Stop for Death

Unmoved— she notes the Chariots— Because I cold not stop for Death pausing— He kindly stopped for me— At her low Gate— The Carriage held but just Ourselves— Unmoved— an Emperor be kneeling And immortality. Upon her Mat— We slowly drove— He knew no haste I’ve known her— from an ample nation— And I had put away Choose One— My labor and my leisure too, Then— close the Valves of her attention— For His Civility— Like Stone— We passed the School, where children strove “Hope” Is the Thing with Feathers At recess— in the ring— We passed the field of gazing grain— “Hope” is the thing with feathers— We passed the setting sun— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— Or rather— he passed Us– And never stops— at all— The Dews drew quivering and chill— For only gossamer, my gown— And sweetest— in the Gale— is heard— My tippet— only tulle— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird We paused before House that seemed That kept so many warm— A Swelling of the Ground— The roof was scarcely visible— I’ve heard it in the chillest land – The cornice— in the ground— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, Since then— `tis centuries— and yet It asked a crumb— of Me Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the horses’ heads Were toward eternity – The Bustle In a House

The Bustle in a House The morning after Death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon Earth—

The Sweeping up the Heart And putting Love away We shall not want to use again Until Eternity.

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant— Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind—

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Much Madness is divinest Sense To a discerning Eye— Much Sense—the starkest Madness ‘Tis the Majority

In this, as All, Prevail— Assent—and you are sane— Demur—you’re straightway dangerous— And handled with a Chain—

Memorize any combination of poems containing a total of 36 lines (9 stanzas) for 108 points—three points per line. Beyond this, you may earn up to 50 points extra credit for extra poems learned at 2 points per line.