To Emily Dickinson in  General   

You who desired so much--in vain to ask--
Yet fed you hunger like an endless task,
Dared dignify the labor, bless the quest--
Achieved that stillness ultimately best,

Being, of all, least sought for: Emily, hear!
O sweet, dead Silencer, most suddenly clear
When singing that Eternity possessed
And plundered momently in every breast;

--Truly no flower yet withers in your hand.
The harvest you descried and understand
Needs more than wit to gather, love to bind.
Some reconcilement of remotest mind--

Leaves Ormus rubyless, and Ophir chill.
Else tears heap all within one clay-cold hill.

By Hart Crane

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Other poems by Hart Crane:

• Carmen De Boheme
• Chaplinesque
• Exile
• Fear
• Forgetfulness
• Interior
• Legend
• The Great Western Plains
• The Visible, The Untrue
• To Brooklyn Bridge
• To Emily Dickinson
• Voyages II