"As I rode down, and the River was black, And yon-side, lo! an endless wrack

And rabble of souls," sighed Sense;

"Their eyes upturned and begged and burned
In brimstone lakes, and a Hand above
Beat back the hands that upward yearned-"

25

"Nay!" quoth Love.

"Yea, yea, sweet Prince; thyself shalt see,

Wilt thou but down this slope with me;

"T is palpable," whispered Sense.

-At the foot of the hill a living rill

Shone, and the lilies shone white above:

"But now 't was black, 't was a river, this rill"

("Black?" quoth Love).

"Ay, black, but lo! the lilies grow;

And yon-side where was woe, was woe,

-Where the rabble of souls," cried Sense,

"Did shrivel and turn and beg and burn,

Thrust back in the brimstone from above

Is banked of violet, rose and fern!" "How?" quoth Love.

"For lakes of pain, yon pleasant plain Of woods and grass and yellow grain Doth ravish the soul and sense:

And never a sigh beneath the sky,

And folk that smile and gaze above-"

"But saw'st thou here, with thine own eye,

Hell?" quoth Love.

"I saw true hell with mine own eye;

30

35

40

45

True hell, or light hath told a lie,

50

"In the heart of sin doth hell begin:

'T is not below, 't is not above,

It lieth within, it lieth within"
("Where?" quoth Love).

"I saw a man sit by a corse;

Hell's in the murderer's breast: remorse!

Thus clamoured his mind to his mind.

Not fleshly dole is the sinner's goal;
Hell's not below, not yet above,

'T is fixed in the ever-damnèd soul—”
"Fixed?" quoth Love.

"Fixed: follow me, would'st thou but see; He weepeth under yon willow tree,

Fast chained to his corse," quoth Mind.

"Read me two Dreams that linger long, Dim as returns of old-time song

That flicker about the mind.

I dreamed (how deep in mortal sleep!)
I struck thee dead, then stood above,
With tears that none but dreamers weep."
"Dreams," quoth Love.

"In dreams, again, I plucked a flower

That clung with pain and stung with power,

Yea, nettled me, body and mind."

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90

"T was the nettle of sin, 't was medicine;
No need nor seed of it here Above;

In dreams of hate true loves begin."

"True," quoth Love.

"Now, strange," quoth Sense; and "Strange," quoth

Mind;

"We saw it, and yet 't is hard to find,

-But we saw it," quoth Sense and Mind.
Stretched on the ground, beautiful-crowned
Of the piteous willow that wreathed above,
"But I cannot find where ye have found
Hell," quoth Love.

1878-79.

1884.

EMILY DICKINSON

[The selections from Miss Dickinson are here printed with the permission of Little, Brown & Co.]

TO FIGHT ALOUD IS VERY BRAVE

[Copyright, by Martha G. D. Bianchi)

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 sec;
Who fall, and none observe;
Whose dying eyes no country

5

Regards with patriot love.

We trust in plumed procession

For such the angels go,

Rank after rank, with even feet
And uniforms of snow.

I DIED FOR BEAUTY

[Copyright, by Martha G. D. Bianchi)

I died for beauty, but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb

When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

1891.

ΙΟ

He questioned softly why I failed:
"For beauty," I replied.

"And I for truth-the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,

We talked between the rooms

Until the moss had reached our lips

And covered up our names.

THE WAY I READ A LETTER 'S THIS

[Copyright, by Martha G. D. Bianchi]

The way I read a letter 's this:
"T is first I lock the door,

And push it with my fingers next,
For transport it be sure;

And then I go the furthest off
To counteract a knock;

Then draw my little letter forth,
And softly pick its lock;

Then, glancing narrow at the wall
And narrow at the floor,

For firm conviction of a mouse

Not exorcised before,

Peruse how infinite I am

To-no one that you know!

And sigh for lack of heaven-but not

The heaven the creeds bestow.

THE LOVERS

[Copyright, by Martha G. D. Bianchi]

The rose did caper on her cheek,

Her bodice rose and fell;

Her pretty speech, like drunken men,
Did stagger pitiful;

He glanced with rapid eyes

That hurried all abroad

They looked like frightened beads, I thought;

He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger. Cautious,

ΙΟ