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Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)


The White Heat


Dare you see a soul at the white heat?
   Then crouch within the door.
Red is the fire's common tint;
   But when the vivid ore

Has sated flame's conditions,
   Its quivering substance plays
Without a color but the light
   Of unanointed blaze.

Least village boasts its blacksmith,
   Whose anvil's even din
Stands symbol for the finer forge
   That soundless tugs within,

Refining these impatient ores
   With hammer and with blaze,
Until the designated light
   Repudiate the forge.



Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
  1. As Children Bid the Guest Good-Night
  2. Setting Sail
  3. Is Heaven a Physician?
  4. So Bashful When I Spied Her
  5. Angels in the Early Morning


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