Emily Dickinson Poems (2290 Poems)
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If those I loved were lost (Emily Dickinson Poem)
If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me — If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring — Did those I loved repose The Daisy would impel me. Philip — when bewildered … Continue reading
There is a word (Emily Dickinson Poem)
There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man — It hurls its barbed syllables And is mute again — But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his … Continue reading
Wild Nights — Wild Nights! (Emily Dickinson Poem)
Wild Nights — Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile — the Winds — To a Heart in port — Done with the Compass — Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden — Ah, … Continue reading
Apparently with no surprise (Emily Dickinson Poem)
Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play — In accidental power — The blonde Assassin passes on — The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God. (Emily … Continue reading
There is a solitude of space (Emily Dickinson Poem)
There is a solitude of space A solitude of sea A solitude of death, but these Society shall be Compared with that profounder site That polar privacy A soul admitted to itself — Finite infinity. (Emily Dickinson)
This is my letter to the World (Emily Dickinson Poem)
This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me — The simple News that Nature told — With tender Majesty Her Message is committed To Hands I cannot see — For love of Her — Sweet — … Continue reading
“Faith” is a fine invention (Emily Dickinson Poem)
“Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see — But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency. (Emily Dickinson)
There’s a certain Slant of light, (Emily Dickinson Poems)
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes — Heavenly Hurt, it gives us — We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are — None may teach … Continue reading
We never know how high we are (Emily Dickinson Poem)
We never know how high we are Till we are asked to rise And then if we are true to plan Our statures touch the skies — The Heroism we recite Would be a normal thing Did not ourselves the … Continue reading
Much Madness is divinest Sense (Emily Dickinson Poem)
Much MADNESS is divinest sense (Author) To a discerning eye Much sense the starkest madness. ‘T’ is the MAJORITY In this, as all, prevail Assent and you are sane Demur, you’re straightway dangerous And handled with a Chain. (Emily Dickinson)
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