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The Bat Post by :jensrsa Category :Poems Author :Emily Dickinson Date :January 2011 Read :2758

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The Bat

The bat is dun with wrinkled wings
Like fallow article,
And not a song pervades his lips,
Or none perceptible.

His small umbrella, quaintly halved,
Describing in the air
An arc alike inscrutable, --
Elate philosopher!

Deputed from what firmament
Of what astute abode,
Empowered with what malevolence
Auspiciously withheld.

To his adroit Creator
Ascribe no less the praise;
Beneficent, believe me,
His eccentricities.

(The end)
Emily Dickinson's poem: Bat

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The Balloon The Balloon

The Balloon
You've seen balloons set, haven't you? So stately they ascendIt is as swans discarded you For duties diamond.Their liquid feet go softly out Upon a sea of blond;They spurn the air as 't were too mean For creatures so renowned.Their ribbons just beyond the eye, They struggle some for breath,And yet the crowd applauds below; They would not encore death.The gilded creature strains and spins, Trips frantic in a tree,Tears open her imperial veins And tumbles in the sea.The crowd retire with an oath The dust in streets goes down,And clerks in counting-rooms observe, ''T was only a balloon.'(The end)Emily Dickinson's

Could I But Ride Indefinite Could I But Ride Indefinite

Could I But Ride Indefinite
Could I but ride indefinite, As doth the meadow-bee,And visit only where I liked, And no man visit me,And flirt all day with buttercups, And marry whom I may,And dwell a little everywhere, Or better, run awayWith no police to follow, Or chase me if I do,Till I should jump peninsulas To get away from you, --I said, but just to be a bee Upon a raft of air,And row in nowhere all day long, And anchor off the bar,--What liberty! So captives deem Who tight in dungeons are.(The end)Emily Dickinson's poem: Could I But Ride Indefinite