Circumference

An Epic by Emily Dickinson

I.

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies—
The Tale I tell — Circumference —
Of Love — that never dies —

The House next Door — a Universe —
The Garden Path — a Sea —
Between my Heart — and Paradise —
Lives — Eternity —

II.

It was the Distance — not the Miles —
That measured — what we Were —
Two Sisters — bound by Marriage — not
To Each — but to Despair —

She came — in White — that April Day —
To marry — Austin — Dear —
I stood — Beside — in smaller White —
And felt — the Hemisphere —

Crack — like a Plate — beneath my feet —
The Wedding Bells — were Doom —
I smiled — and kissed — the Bride — who was —
My Light — within the Gloom —

III.

We dwelt — in Houses — touching — Nearly —
But not the Souls — within —
The Architecture — of our Hearts —
Had Windows — opening —

On Gardens — where we could not Walk —
Together — save by Day —
When Witnesses — made Safety — for
What Night — would take Away —

I wrote — to Her — across the Lawn —
What I could never Say —
She answered — in her careful Hand —
“Forever” — and — “Today” —

IV.

The Letters — were our Secret Church —
Where We — could truly Meet —
No Preacher — but the Robin — who
Made Sermon — of our Beat —

“Dear Sue —” I wrote — “The World — is not —
Conclusion — there is More —”
She answered — “Yes — my Dearest — I —
Have found it — at your Door —”

We spoke — in Metaphor — and Dash —
What Plainness — would Destroy —
The Riddle — was our Refuge — and —
Our Sorrow — and our Joy —

V.

Austin — knew — and did not Know —
The Thing — he could not See —
That I — loved Something — in his House —
But not — his Property —

He saw — the Poems — thought them Strange —
“Why write — to One — Next Door?”
But Surface — is the Deepest Thing —
Men know — and Nothing — More —

VI.

Sometimes — at Dusk — I’d see her Face —
Lit — by a single Lamp —
And think — of Moses — and the Bush —
That Burned — but was not — Damp —

With Tears — though I — had many — for —
The Space — between our Hands —
That could not Touch — except in Pass —
Of Teacups — or — Commands —

From Those — who owned — the Daylight Hours —
But not — the Dark — between —
Where I — could love her — Silently —
And Purely — and Unseen —

VII.

The Years — accumulated — Slow —
Like Snow — upon the Ground —
Each Flake — a Day — we could not Say —
The Thing — we’d Found —

Her Children — came — I loved them — too —
As Echoes — of her Face —
But Oh — the Ache — to see her Give —
What I — could not — Replace —

VIII.

I wrote — of Loaded Guns — and Death —
Of Lovers — in the Tomb —
Of Kingdoms — and of Cavalry —
But meant — that Narrow Room —

Between — our Houses — where the Air —
Was Charged — with what we Knew —
But could not Name — except to Say —
“Forever” — “Yes” — and “True” —

IX.

One Summer — Illness — came to me —
I thought — perhaps — to Die —
She sat — beside — my narrow Bed —
And would not — say — Goodbye —

“If you — should go —” she whispered — low —
“Then I — would follow — Fast —”
I answered — “Death — is not the Thing —
That parts — us — but the Past —”

We cannot — change — the April Day —
You gave — your Hand — Away —
But Death — might be — our Wedding — Sweet —
If not — in Light — then Clay —”

X.

I did not — Die — that Summer — but —
Something — within — me — Did —
The Part — that hoped — for Earthly — Touch —
Beneath — my Ribs — was Hid —

And after — I was Different — More —
Like Ghost — than Woman — who —
Could love — across — Eternity —
And ask — for Nothing — New —

XI.

The Letters — Multiplied — like Stars —
Each One — a coded Prayer —
“I dwell — in Possibility —” I wrote —
“And You — are Everywhere —”

She answered — “Possibility —
Is all — We ever Had —
The Real — would kill us — with its Weight —
The Dream — keeps us — Glad —”

XII.

We aged — but not Together — Though —
Together — Every Day —
The Paradox — of Nearest — Far —
Was How — we Learned — to Pray —

Not to — the God — of Churches — but —
The God — of Slanted Light —
Who makes — the Impossible — more True —
Than Truth — told Straight — and Right —

XIII.

And now — the Story — Circles — Back —
To where — it must — Begin —
With Truth — told Slant — and Love — that Lives —
In Spaces — Between — Skin —

And Soul — where Touch — cannot — Intrude —
But Knowing — makes its Home —
Where Sue — and I — are Married — Still —
In Poems — and — in Poem —

XIV.

This is — the Circumference — I Promised —
The Circuit — of our Days —
Where Love — that cannot — Speak its Name —
Finds — Thousand — Silent — Ways —

To Live — and Breathe — and Have — its Being —
In Dashes — and — in Pause —
Where Law — cannot — Follow — and where —
Love — makes — its Own — Sweet — Laws —

The House — next Door — remains — a Universe —
The Garden Path — a Sea —
And I — and Sue — are Sailors — Still —
On that — Eternity —

[Found among Emily Dickinson’s papers, dated 1883, with the notation: “For S.H.D. — who knows the Circumference of which I write — “]