Megs looked at my funny the other night when Sweet Toddler J and I sat in the bedroom and read a few of Emily Dickinson's poems. When Sweet Toddler J. was only two months old, I remember that I soothed her from a crying fit as I read a few Robert Frost poems to her. Wednesday night, we had a grand time on the Chase as we drank apple juice and read Dickinson.
Unfortunately, I cannot find one of Dickinson's poems that I read to the little one. But in the spirit of that night, here is the poem of the day:
"This World is not Conclusion," Emily Dickinson
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond --
Invisible, as Music --
But positive, as Sound --
It beckons, and it baffles --
Philosophy -- don't know --
And through a Riddle, at the last --
Sagacity, must go --
To guess it, puzzles scholars --
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown --
Faith slips -- and laughs, and rallies --
Blushes, if any see --
Plucks at a twig of Evidence --
And asks a Vane, the way --
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit --
Strong Hallelujahs roll --
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul --
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