To fight aloud, is very brave -
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Calvary of Woe -
Who win, and nations do not see -
Who fall, and none observe -
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriotic love -
The next time you are in a book store, riffle through a book of Emily Dickinson's poetry and see if you like it. She's one of my favourite poets.
To me, her poetry has a staccato rhythm that's lively and breathless.
Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) suffered from melancholia and was reclusive in the latter part of her life. Sounds familiar? Although this has nothing to do with my enjoyment of her poetry, it makes me feel that perhaps we are kindred spirits separated by time. I have a bit of hero worship going on here.
You can read more at her Wikipedia article, but don't bother to read an analysis of her poetry style. Judge for yourself.
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I have the book of her complete works. Not that I have the slightest idea where to find it in the disaster I call my house. (Or my mom’s house. That’s more fair to my sense of tidiness.)
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