Poems

	"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!     239 "Heaven"—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"Heaven" is—to Me! The Color, on the Cruising Cloud— The interdicted Land— Behind the Hill—the House behind— There—Paradise—is found! Her teasing Purples—Afternoons— The credulous—decoy— Enamored—of the Conjuror— That spurned us—Yesterday! Emily Dickinson

	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— Emily Dickinson

	A Night—there lay the Days between     471 A Night—there lay the Days between— The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here— Slow—Night—that must be watched away— As Grains upon a shore— Too imperceptible to note— Till it be night—no more— Emily Dickinson