November left — then clambered up
Now that it is past mid November I might be able to retire my scanner for repair. Little is left in my garden to scan. After a few years of using it (this has happened once before) the solvents from the plastic in the works underneath the scanner bottom glass has a thin opaque coating. And the placing of many plants and hard objects on the glass has left scratches. It is a pain to correct them with Photoshop. So the time has come to have my Epson Perfection V700 Photo looked after.
Emily Dickinson wrote at least three poems with the word November in them. This is the third that I have found. Note, below this blog, there are all the Emily Dickinson poems I have mated up to now with my scans of plants and with my photographs.
November was finishing when I found you.
Making November difficult
589 — Emily Dickinson
The Night was wide, and furnished scant
With but a single Star —
That often as a Cloud it met —
Blew out itself — for fear —
The Wind pursued the little Bush —
And drove away the Leaves
November left — then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves —
No Squirrel went abroad —
A Dog’s belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, be heard
Adown the empty Street —
To feel if Blinds be fast —
And closer to the fire —
Her little Rocking Chair to draw —
And shiver for the Poor —
The Housewife’s gentle Task —
How pleasanter — said she
Unto the Sofa opposite —
The Sleet — than May, no Thee —
More Emily Dickinson:
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
We turn not older with years, but older
Now I am ready to go
Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays
I find my feet have further goals
A melancholy of a waning summer
Just as green and as white
It’s full as opera
I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street
Amber slips away
Sleep
When August burning low
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue
The colour of the grave is green
To know if any human eyes were near
Linda Melsted — the music of the violin does not emerge alone
The Charm invests her face
A sepal, a petal and a thorn
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman
T were blessed to have seen
There is no frigate like a book
I pay in satin cash
Emily Dickinson’s White Dress & a Hunter of Lost Souls
El vestido blanco — The White Dress
Water makes many beds
The viola da gamba
But sequence ravelled out of reach
A parasol is the umbrella’s daughter
Without the power to die
Lessons on the piny
Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
I took my power in my hand
I find my feet have further goals
I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone!
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red
Me-come! My dazzled face
Develops pearl and weed
But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/tell-truth-but-tell-it-slant.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/theres-certain-slant-of-light.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/then-mashes-it-to-death.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/adjusted-to-tomb.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/dirk-commemorate-itself.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/lawful-as-equilibrium.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/there-is-no-frigate-like-book.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/light-is-sufficient-to-itself.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/11/thanatos-two-tiny-rhododendrons.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html