Resurrection

’T WAS a long parting, but the time
For interview had come;
Before the judgment-seat of God,
The last and second time


These fleshless lovers met,
A heaven in a gaze,
A heaven of heavens, the privilege
Of one another’s eyes.


No lifetime set on them,
Apparelled as the new
Unborn, except they had beheld,
Born everlasting now.


Was bridal e’er like this?
A paradise, the host,
And cherubim and seraphim
The most familiar guest.

~Emily dickinson

This one is titled “Resurrection” in my copy of Dickinson’s poems. “Perfect for Easter!” I thought, and then, “Oh, come on, Emily,” when I read it and saw that it is actually a love poem. Just when you think she can only write about death (or orioles) she takes death and turns it into a poem about undying love.

But then, when you think about it, isn’t that what Easter is–a love story?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

We think we’ve found it at last–an Emily Dickinson love poem that’s actually about love and not secretly about death! Enjoy!

XXIX


The rose did caper on her cheek,
Her bodice rose and fell,
Her pretty speech, like drunken men,
Did stagger pitiful.


Her fingers fumbled at her work,—
Her needle would not go;
What ailed so smart a little maid
It puzzled me to know,


Till opposite I spied a cheek
That bore another rose;
Just opposite, another speech
That like the drunkard goes;


A vest that, like the bodice, danced
To the immortal tune,—
Till those two troubled little clocks
Ticked softly into one.

~Emily Dickinson