pwtc

I Cannot Live With You by Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf 

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup 

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack. 

I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other's gaze down,
You could not. 

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's privilege? 

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus'.
That new grace 

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,

I Am Not Yours by Sara Teasdale

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea. 

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light. 

Oh plunge me deep in love - put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

If You Were Coming in the Fall by Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.


If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.


If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.


If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.


But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting

my friendz