Poems that you love

[RiverNotch]

Dickinson -- 662.

   Embarrassment of one another
   And God
   Is Revelation's limit,
   Aloud
   Is nothing that is chief,
   But still,
   Divinity dwells under seal.

Dickinson -- 561.

   I measure every Grief I meet
   With narrow, probing Eyes -
   I wonder if It weighs like mine -
   Or has an Easier size.

   I wonder if They bore it long-
   Or did it just begin -
   I could not tell the Date of Mine -
   It feels so old a pain -

   I wonder if it hurts to live -
   And if They have to try -
   And whether - could They choose between -
   It would not be - to die-

   I note that Some - gone patient long -
   At length renew their smile -
   An imitation of a Light -
   That has so little Oil -

   I wonder if when Years have piled -
   Some Thousands - on the Harm -
   That hurt them early - such a lapse
   Could give them any Balm -

   Or would they go on aching still
   Through Centuries of Nerve -
   Enlightened to a larger Pain -
   In contrast with the Love -

   The grieved- are many - I am told -
   There is the various Cause -
   Death - is but one -and comes but once
   And only nails the eyes -

   There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold -
   A sort they call "Despair" -
   There's Banishment from native Eyes =
   In sight of Native Air -

   And though I may not guess the kind-
   Correctly - yet to me
   A piercing comfort it affords -
   In passing Calvary -

   To note the fashions - of the Cross -
   And how they're mostly worn -
   Still fascinated to presume
   That Some - are like my Own -

Copied from http://www.arduity.com/poets/dickinson/index.html, an interesting yet in my opinion flawed analysis (of course, the author does indicate that his or her analyses are tentative, and to be fair I fall into the same traps he or she does all the time).