An invitation:
Not long ago I was discussing Dickinson with Mia and some others on the site, and we thought it might be fun to try a collaborative reading of one or two of her poems. To start off, here is one I have always found beautiful and mysterious -- #127 in the 1924 edition. If it strikes you, what do you notice about it -- what does it mean to you?
BEFORE the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go,
Or any cheek at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow,
Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!
What we touch the hems of
On a summer’s day;
What is only walking
Just a bridge away;
That which sings so, speaks so,
When there’s no one here,—
Will the frock I wept in
Answer me to wear?