I could not prove the Years had feet —

Yet confident they run

Am I, from symptoms that are past

And Series that are done —

I find my feet have further Goals —

I smile upon the Aims

That felt so ample — Yesterday —

Today’s — have vaster claims —

I do not doubt the self I was 

Was competent to me —

But something awkward in the fit —

Proves that — outgrown — I see —

~Emily Dickinson

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Vaster claims

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Bethany Baptist Church Cemetery on March 15, 2012

McDonough, Georgia

The Soul should always stand ajar

That if the Heaven inquire

He will not be obliged to wait

Or shy of troubling Her

Depart, before the Host have slid

The Bolt unto the Door —

To search for the accomplished Guest,

Her Visitor, no more —

~Emily Dickinson

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Soul ajar

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Christ Church Episcopal Cemetery on April 14, 2011

Greenville, South Carolina

It came at last but prompter Death

Had occupied the House —

His pallid Furniture arranged

And his metallic Peace —

Oh faithful Frost that kept the Date

Had Love as punctual been

Delight had aggrandized the Gate

And blocked the coming in.

~Emily Dickinson

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Metallic peace

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Oakland Cemetery on May 19, 2012

Atlanta, Georgia

Those — dying then,

Knew where they went —

They went to God’s Right Hand —

That Hand is amputated now

And God cannot be found —

The abdication of Belief

Makes the Behavior small —

Better an ignis fatuus

Than no illume at all —

~Emily Dickinson

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In extremis

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Laurelwood Cemetery on October 16, 2012

Rock Hill, South Carolina

I measure every Grief I meet

With narrow, probing eyes —

I wonder if It weighs like Mine —

Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long —

Or did it just begin —

I could not tell the Date of Mine —

It feels so old a pain —

I wonder if it hurts to live —

And if They have to try —

And whether — could They choose between —

It would not be — to die —

I note that Some — gone patient long —

At length, renew their smile —

An imitation of a Light

That has so little Oil —

I wonder if when Years have piled —

Some Thousands — on the Harm —

That hurt them early — such a lapse

Could give them any Balm —

Or would they go on aching still

Through Centuries of Nerve —

Enlightened to a larger Pain —

In Contrast with the Love —

The Grieved — are many — I am told —

There is the various Cause —

Death — is but one — and comes but once —

And only nails the eyes —

There’s Grief of Want — and grief of Cold —

A sort they call “Despair” —

There’s Banishment from native Eyes —

In sight of Native Air —

And though I may not guess the kind —

Correctly — yet to me

A piercing Comfort it affords

In passing Calvary —

To note the fashions — of the Cross —

And how they’re mostly worn —

Still fascinated to presume

That Some — are like my own —

~Emily Dickinson

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So old a pain

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Elmwood Cemetery on December 28, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina

It was a quiet way —

He asked if I was his —

I made no answer of the Tongue

But answer of the Eyes —

And then He bore me on

Before this mortal noise

With swiftness, as of Chariots

And distance, as of Wheels.

This World did drop away

As Acres from the feet

Of one that leaneth from Balloon

Upon an Ether street.

The Gulf behind was not,

The Continents were new —

Eternity it was before

Eternity was due.

No Seasons were to us —

It was not Night nor Morn —

But Sunrise stopped upon the place

And fastened it in Dawn.

~Emily Dickinson

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Eternity was due

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at First Presbyterian Church Cemetery on September 29, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina

Unfulfilled to Observation —

Incomplete — to Eye —

But to Faith — a Revolution

In Locality —

Unto Us — the Suns extinguish —

To our Opposite —

New Horizons — they embellish —

Fronting Us — with Night.

~Emily Dickinson

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New Horizons

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at First Presbyterian Church Cemetery on September 29, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina

At last, to be identified!

At last, the lamps upon thy side

The rest of Life to see!

Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!

Past Sunrise!

Ah, What leagues there were

Between our feet, and Day!

~Emily Dickinson

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Identified

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Riverside Cemetery on December 17, 2012

Asheville, North Carolina

It’s easy to invent a LIfe —

God does it — every Day —

Creation — but the Gambol

Of HIs Authority —

It’s easy to efface it —

The thrifty Deity

Could scarce afford Eternity

To Spontaneity —

The Perished Patterns murmur —

But His Perturbless Plan

Proceed —inserting Here — a Sun —

There — leaving out a Man —

~Emily Dickinson~

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Thy Will Be Done

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Bellview Cemetery on March 6, 2012

Lenoir, North Carolina

A poor — torn heart — a tattered heart —

That sat it down to rest —

Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day

Flowed silver to the West —

Nor noticed Night did soft descend —

Nor Constellation burn —

Intent upon the vision

Of latitudes unknown.

The angels — happening that way

The dusty heart espied —

Tenderly took it up from toil

And carried it to God —

There — sandals for the Barefoot —

There — gathered from the gales —

Do the blue havens by the hand

Lead the wandering Sails.

~Emily Dickinson

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Latitudes unknown

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Oakdale Cemetery on October 23, 2011

Hendersonville, North Carolina

A darting fear—a pomp—a tear—

A waking on a morn

To find that what one waked for,

Inhales the different dawn.

~Emily Dickinson

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All is well

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Riverside Cemetery on December 17, 2012

Asheville, North Carolina

Because I could not stop for Death —

He kindly stopped for me —

The Carriage held but just Ourselves —

And Immortality.

We slowly drove — He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility —

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess — in the Ring —

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain —

We passed the Setting Sun —

Or rather — He passed Us —

The Dews drew quivering and chill —

For only Gossamer, my Gown —

My Tippet — only Tulle —

We paused before a house that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground —

The Roof was scarcely visible —

The Cornice — in the Ground —

Since then — ’tis Centuries — and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads

Were toward Eternity —

~Emily Dickinson

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So this is eternity

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Laurelwood Cemetery on October 15, 2012

Rock Hill, South Carolina

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

~Alexander Pope
An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733

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Hope … the thing with feathers that perches in the soul

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Elmwood Cemetery on October 11, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina

I shall know why, when time is over,
And I have ceased to wonder why;
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair schoolroom of the sky.

He will tell me what Peter promised,
And I, for wonder at his woe,
I shall forget the drop of anguish
That scalds me now, that scalds me now.

~Emily Dickinson

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Melly Belle

Photographed by Jennifer Weber at Elmwood Cemetery on November 22, 2012

Columbia, South Carolina