How many schemes may die (Emily Dickinson Poem)
How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern -- The man that ...
How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern -- The man that ...
How much of Source escapes with thee -- How chief thy sessions be -- For thou hast borne a universe ...
How much the present moment means To those who've nothing more -- The Fop -- the Carp -- the Atheist ...
How News must feel when travelling If News have any Heart Alighting at the Dwelling 'Twill enter like a Dart! ...
How fleet -- how indiscreet an one -- How always wrong is Love -- The joyful little Deity We are ...
How fortunate the Grave -- All Prizes to obtain -- Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain. ...
How good his Lava Bed, To this laborious Boy -- Who must be up to call the World And dress ...
How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But ...
How know it from a Summer's Day? Its Fervors are as firm -- And nothing in the Countenance But scintillates ...
How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way -- Of River or of Ridge beyond Was ...
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity -- How mighty ...
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream -- ...
How dare the robins sing, When men and women hear Who since they went to their account Have settled with ...
How destitute is he Whose Gold is firm Who finds it every time The small stale Sum -- When Love ...
His Mind like Fabrics of the East Displayed to the despair Of everyone but here and there An humble Purchaser ...
His mind of man, a secret makes I meet him with a start He carries a circumference In which I ...
His oriental heresies Exhilarate the Bee, And filling all the Earth and Air With gay apostasy Fatigued at last, a ...
His voice decrepit was with Joy -- Her words did totter so How old the News of Love must be ...
Hope is a subtle Glutton -- He feeds upon the Fair -- And yet -- inspected closely What Abstinence is ...
His Bill is clasped -- his Eye forsook -- His Feathers wilted low -- The Claws that clung, like lifeless ...
His Cheek is his Biographer -- As long as he can blush Perdition is Opprobrium -- Past that, he sins ...
His Feet are shod with Gauze -- His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid. ...
His little Hearse like Figure Unto itself a Dirge To a delusive Lilac The vanity divulge Of Industry and Morals ...
His Mansion in the Pool The Frog forsakes -- He rises on a Log And statements makes -- His Auditors ...
Here, where the Daisies fit my Head 'Tis easiest to lie And every Grass that plays outside Is sorry, some, ...
Herein a Blossom lies -- A Sepulchre, between -- Cross it, and overcome the Bee -- Remain -- 'tis but ...
High from the earth I heard a bird, He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then ...
His Bill an Auger is His Head, a Cap and Frill He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost ...
Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night Had scarcely deigned to lie -- When, stirring, for Belief's delight, My ...
Her Losses make our Gains ashamed -- She bore Life's empty Pack As gallantly as if the East Were swinging ...
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