Exiled
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
Of the big surf that breaks all day.
Always before about my dooryard,
Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;
Always I climbed the wave at morning,
Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath great buildings,
Stricken with noise, confused with light.
If I could hear the green piles groaning
Under the windy wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
And the black sticks that fence the weirs,
If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead, of the wheeling gulls,
Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
Dread the bell in the fog outside,—
I should be happy,—that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again!
I should be happy, that am happy
Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
I have a need of water near.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Related quotes
A Murmur in the Trees—to note
416
A Murmur in the Trees—to note—
Not loud enough—for Wind—
A Star—not far enough to seek—
Nor near enough—to find—
A long—long Yellow—on the Lawn—
A Hubbub—as of feet—
Not audible—as Ours—to Us—
But dapperer—More Sweet—
A Hurrying Home of little Men
To Houses unperceived—
All this—and more—if I should tell—
Would never be believed—
Of Robins in the Trundle bed
How many I espy
Whose Nightgowns could not hide the Wings—
Although I heard them try—
But then I promised ne'er to tell—
How could I break My Word?
So go your Way—and I'll go Mine—
No fear you'll miss the Road.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink
566
A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—
His Mighty Balls—in death were thick—
But searching—I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water—and of me—
'Twas not my blame—who sped too slow—
'Twas not his blame—who died
While I was reaching him—
But 'twas—the fact that He was dead—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered
523
Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered
Every time—for Two—
So that the Sum be never hindered
Through Decay of You—
Say if I erred? Accuse my Farthings—
Blame the little Hand
Happy it be for You—a Beggar's—
Seeking More—to spend—
Just to be Rich—to waste my Guineas
On so Best a Heart—
Just to be Poor—for Barefoot Vision
You—Sweet—Shut me out—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Wraith
"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
—Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Someone living here before—
"Nobody's in the house but me:
You may come in if you like and see."
Thin as thread, with exquisite fingers,—
Have you seen her, any of you?—
Grey shawl, and leaning on the wind,
And the garden showing through?
Glimmering eyes,—and silent, mostly,
Sort of a whisper, sort of a purr,
Asking something, asking it over,
If you get a sound from her.—
Ever see her, any of you?—
Strangest thing I've ever known,—
Every night since I moved in,
And I came to be alone.
"Thin Rain, hush with your knocking!
You may not come in!
This is I that you hear rocking;
Nobody's with me, nor has been!"
Curious, how she tried the window,—
Odd, the way she tries the door,—
Wonder just what sort of people
Could have had this house before . . .
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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I envy Seas, whereon He rides
498
I envy Seas, whereon He rides—
I envy Spokes of Wheels
Of Chariots, that Him convey—
I envy Crooked Hills
That gaze upon His journey—
How easy All can see
What is forbidden utterly
As Heaven—unto me!
I envy Nests of Sparrows—
That dot His distant Eaves—
The wealthy Fly, upon His Pane—
The happy—happy Leaves—
That just abroad His Window
Have Summer's leave to play—
The Ear Rings of Pizarro
Could not obtain for me—
I envy Light—that wakes Him—
And Bells—that boldly ring
To tell Him it is Noon, abroad—
Myself—be Noon to Him—
Yet interdict—my Blossom—
And abrogate—my Bee—
Lest Noon in Everlasting Night—
Drop Gabriel—and Me—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A happy lip—breaks sudden
353
A happy lip—breaks sudden—
It doesn't state you how
It contemplated—smiling—
Just consummated—now—
But this one, wears its merriment
So patient—like a pain—
Fresh gilded—to elude the eyes
Unqualified, to scan—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Carry Me Away
I called you up today to bridge my sorrow
Carry me over the line to you
How long will it take to reach tomorrow
Seems like a whole lot of time
Just these thoughts to pull me through
I see blue carpet and cold moonlight settled in
Voices whisper doubts of how I should have been
I feel like Im over the water
But Im caught in the tide
Tell are you calling for me
Does this come deep from inside
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
The sound slowly fades and trickles away from the sea
Its only the windows and i
They hear my dream
Im walking a distance I feel Ive been running for miles
Happy times dont last long
I finally got that its too late to smile
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Into your mind
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Least, Everybody's Happy
I want you to be happy
Because if you happy
I will be happy too
I want you to feel happy
Because if you happy
I will feel peaceful
I want your happiness
Because if you happy
I won't need anything else
I want to see you happy
Because if you happy
I will not be forced to see you grieving
I want you to know happiness
Because if you happy
I will not disturb only by your sorrow
I want to hear that you're happy
Because if you happy
I should not listen to your unhappy story
I want you to find happiness
Because if you happy
I will not be chased by constant nightmare
I want you have a touch of happiness
Because if you happy
I could rip your ugly sad face with smile
I want to give you happiness
Because if you happy
I could take you from the darkness
I want you to taste happiness
Because if you happy
I must not swallow the bitterness
I want you realize that you have a right to be happy
Because if you happy
I won't be drowned in regret because ignorance
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Musicians wrestle everywhere
157
Musicians wrestle everywhere—
All day—among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife—
And—walking—long before the morn—
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New Life"!
If is not Bird—it has no nest—
Nor "Band"—in brass and scarlet—drest—
Nor Tamborin—nor Man—
It is not Hymn from pulpit read—
The "Morning Stars" the Treble led
On Time's first Afternoon!
Some—say—it is "the Spheres"—at play!
Some say that bright Majority
Of vanished Dames—and Men!
Some—think it service in the place
Where we—with late—celestial face—
Please God—shall Ascertain!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Spirit is the Conscious Ear
733
The Spirit is the Conscious Ear.
We actually Hear
When We inspect—that's audible—
That is admitted—Here—
For other Services—as Sound—
There hangs a smaller Ear
Outside the Castle—that Contain—
The other—only—Hear—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Surfer
He thrust his joy against the weight of the sea;
climbed through, slid under those long banks of
foam--
(hawthorn hedges in spring, thorns in the face stinging).
How his brown strength drove through the hollow and coil
of green-through weirs of water!
Muscle of arm thrust down long muscle of water;
and swimming so, went out of sight
where mortal, masterful, frail, the gulls went wheeling
in air as he in water, with delight.
Turn home, the sun goes down; swimmer, turn home.
Last leaf of gold vanishes from the sea-curve.
Take the big roller’s shoulder, speed and serve;
come to the long beach home like a gull diving.
For on the sand the grey-wolf sea lies, snarling,
cold twilight wind splits the waves’ hair and shows
the bones they worry in their wolf-teeth. O, wind blows
and sea crouches on sand, fawning and mouthing;
drops there and snatches again, drops and again snatches
its broken toys, its whitened pebbles and shells.
poem by Judith Wright
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On this long storm the Rainbow rose
194
On this long storm the Rainbow rose—
On this late Morn—the Sun—
The clouds—like listless Elephants—
Horizons—straggled down—
The Birds rose smiling, in their nests—
The gales—indeed—were done—
Alas, how heedless were the eyes—
On whom the summer shone!
The quiet nonchalance of death—
No Daybreak—can bestir—
The slow—Archangel's syllables
Must awaken her!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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You know that Portrait in the Moon
504
You know that Portrait in the Moon—
So tell me who 'tis like—
The very Brow—the stooping eyes—
A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
The very Pattern of the Cheek—
It varies—in the Chin—
But—Ishmael—since we met—'tis long—
And fashions—intervene—
When Moon's at full—'Tis Thou—I say—
My lips just hold the name—
When crescent—Thou art worn—I note—
But—there—the Golden Same—
And when—Some Night—Bold—slashing Clouds
Cut Thee away from Me—
That's easier—than the other film
That glazes Holiday—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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He strained my faith
497
He strained my faith—
Did he find it supple?
Shook my strong trust—
Did it then—yield?
Hurled my belief—
But—did he shatter—it?
Racked—with suspense—
Not a nerve failed!
Wrung me—with Anguish—
But I never doubted him—
'Tho' for what wrong
He did never say—
Stabbed—while I sued
His sweet forgiveness—
Jesus—it's your little "John"!
Don't you know—me?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Again—his voice is at the door
663
Again—his voice is at the door—
I feel the old Degree—
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one—as me—
I take a flower—as I go—
My face to justify—
He never saw me—in this life—
I might surprise his eye!
I cross the Hall with mingled steps—
I—silent—pass the door—
I look on all this world contains—
Just his face—nothing more!
We talk in careless—and it toss—
A kind of plummet strain—
Each—sounding—shyly& mdash;
Just—how—deep—
The other's one—had been—
We walk—I leave my Dog—at home—
A tender—thoughtful Moon—
Goes with us—just a little way—
And—then—we are alone—
Alone—if Angels are "alone"—
First time they try the sky!
Alone—if those "veiled faces"—be—
We cannot count—on High!
I'd give—to live that hour—again—
The purple—in my Vein—
But He must count the drops—himself—
My price for every stain!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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I know you are there and I know you understand
What I am saying,
I say from my heart
Two faces, happy & sad, Hate & love in one body,
And you see them
In the mirror as you shake your hair
For some lies, combing some truths
For me to gaze upon like I am
This woman asking from your crystal ball
What happens tomorrow?
When I am alone and he is gone,
Do I have to speak in riddles for you to
Really find the answers? No, I don’t because
I am candid about feelings,
Ask me again if I am happy
And I will show you some scars.
I know you are there and I know you understand
When I tell you that I am crying and sobbing
On a laptop of stories,
He will neither hear me nor you, but we will all be here,
In this tragedy of the hearts
Of two faces, happy & sad, and hate & love, and hate & love,
Wanting to go but also wanting to stay
I know you are there and I know you understand, stay, and stay
I will be going away but only for a while.
(a poem for ric, from his wife)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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70
I know you are there and I know you understand
What I am saying,
I say from my heart
Two faces, happy & sad, Hate & love in one body,
And you see them
In the mirror as you shake your hair
For some lies, combing some truths
For me to gaze upon like I am
This woman asking from your crystal ball
What happens tomorrow?
When I am alone and he is gone,
Do I have to speak in riddles for you to
Really find the answers? No, I don’t because
I am candid about feelings,
Ask me again if I am happy
And I will show you some scars.
I know you are there and I know you understand
When I tell you that I am crying and sobbing
On a laptop of stories,
He will neither hear me nor you, but we will all be here,
In this tragedy of the hearts
Of two faces, happy & sad, and hate & love, and hate & love,
Wanting to go but also wanting to stay
I know you are there and I know you understand, stay, and stay
I will be going away but only for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emotions Run Deep But end Happy
The thoughts you bring to me when you call
The joy you bring when you say 'hello'
The smile you put on my face when we begin to talk
How you make my eyes wide when i see you
How my heart starts racing when we touch lips
How my brine focuses just on you
The way my emotions get to a new high when they hear your voice
How tight my arms get when they are aroud you
The way you make me write this without a clue
How you don't even know nothing about this
Or how happy you make me
The way you make me happy
I feel so happy when i'm around you
Never wanting to hurt you because of how happy i get
You just make me so happy
My 69% all over again
I'm happy
poem by Ardimus Caldwell
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She's happy, with a new Content
535
She's happy, with a new Content—
That feels to her—like Sacrament—
She's busy—with an altered Care—
As just apprenticed to the Air—
She's tearful—if she weep at all—
For blissful Causes—Most of all
That Heaven permit so meek as her—
To such a Fate—to Minister.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ocean Breakers
She went to water;
she always did.
The heaving ocean
matched her heavy breathing;
it was a Ocean of Tears
like hers.
The swells crash
against the shore
relentlessly;
life was relentless too.
The foam;
Anger in the Water that day.
She went to water
she always did,
moving among the sand dunes,
face against the wind.
The sea gulls overhead;
caw! caw! caw!
She lifts her arms,
the wind blows her sleeves
making a flapping sound;
she could hear whispers
between the breakers,
she could hear weeping
among the retreating waves.
She stood there
on the Edge of Forever.
There is no end to the ocean.
Every day it calls to the Sun
and makes it rise.
.
Every night it extinguishes it.
She could walk to China;
she could
and no one would know;
no one would know.
The voice said
'I thought I would find you here'
Waves crashing
more soothing now
two tracks in the sand.
Sad swells
rise again
and retreat;
time and ocean breaks
bring them back together again.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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