Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
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His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
Forever is composed of nows.
Forever is composed of nows.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
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Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear.
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
