Emily Dickinson

Today, I bring you three poems by Emily Dickinson. She's been on my mind a lot lately, though I'm not sure why. Her poetry is tough and complicated. My favorite professor in college, Mary Zimmerman, said she didn't appreciate Dickinson's work until she was older; I look forward to better understanding her poetry myself. Until then, I'll take from it what I can, and hope that you, dear reader, will too.
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I HIDE myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too—
And angels know the rest.

I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.
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MY river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!

I ’ll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks,—

Say, sea,
Take me!
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TO fight aloud is very brave,
But gallanter, I know,
Who charge within the bosom,
The cavalry of woe.

Who win, and nations do not see,
Who fall, and none observe,
Whose dying eyes no country
Regards with patriot love.

We trust, in plumed procession,
For such the angels go,
Rank after rank, with even feet
And uniforms of snow.