Be the change you want to see in the world
Ghandi
Emily Dickenson
Nature, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child.
The feeblest or the waywardest,
Her admonition mild
In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird
How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down
Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky
With infinite affection,
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
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,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home.
Then oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, splashless, as they swim.
Because I could not stop for Death- -
He kindly stopped for me- -
The carriage held but just Ourselves- -
And Immortality.
We slowly drove - -He knew no haste
And I had put aside
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility- -
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess- - in the Ring- -
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain- -
We passed the Setting Sun- -
Or rather - -He passed Us- -
The Dews drew quivering and chill- -
For only Gossamer, my Gown- -
My Tippet - -only Tulle- -
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground- -
The Roof was scarcely visible- -
The Cornice- - in the Ground- -
Since then- -'Tis Centuries- -and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses Heads
Were toward Eternity- -
Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,
Admitted scarcely to itself, it maybe,
Too fair
For credibility's temerity
To dare
Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow's rainment
To touch
Yet Persevered toward, surer for the distance,
How high
Unto the saints' slow diligence
The sky!
Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring
Again
To flip through the pages of my BOS faster...
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 Brightest of Blessings
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