|
984f58c
|
My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
|
|
immortality
life
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
e240c07
|
Heart, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you're lagging, I may remember him!
|
|
loss
poetry
heartbreak
love
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
ba391ca
|
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 labour, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely vi..
|
|
emily-dickinson
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
4ae5fe6
|
A power of Butterfly must be - The Aptitude to fly
|
|
flying
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
dcb2c2e
|
The Soul selects her own Society.
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
c9ab223
|
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, the sea! Might I moor - Tonight - In thee!
|
|
poetry
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
a62cd8d
|
open me carefully
|
|
emily-dickinson
letter
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
0335cce
|
I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers,-- The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own."
|
|
poetry
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
e525d75
|
A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care -- For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
9d747fb
|
I lost a world the other day. Has anybody found? You'll know it by the rows of stars around it's forehead bound. A rich man might not notice it; yet to my frugal eye of more esteem than ducats. Oh! Find it, sir, for me!
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
15734e8
|
One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted -- One need not be a House -- The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing Material Place --
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
a1ac57e
|
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bells Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh I felt siroccos crawl, Nor fire, for just my marble feet Could keep a chancel cool. And yet it tasted like them all; The figures I have seen Set orderly, for burial, Reminded me of mine, As if my life were shaven And fitted to a frame, And could not breathe without a key; And I w..
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
96ca480
|
Inebriate of Air -- am I -- And Debauchee of Dew -- Reeling -- thro endless summer days -- From Inns of Molten Blue --
|
|
poetry
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
321aaef
|
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring ,Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair? Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now, And deck thee with holly's sheen,
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
d488159
|
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
544769e
|
I had been hungry all the years- My noon had come, to dine- I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had seen When turning, hungry, lone, I looked in windows, for the wealth I could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread, 'Twas so unlike the crumb The birds and I had often shared In Nature's diningroom. The plenty hurt me, 'twas so new,-- Myself felt ill and odd, As berry of a mounta..
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
d9f44c2
|
To live is so startling, it leaves but little room for other occupations.
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
d6521a7
|
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
0d7ffbd
|
To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights,What must the Midnights -- be!
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
fdec12f
|
A little Madness in the SpringIs wholesome even for the King.
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |
|
7368a87
|
Who has not found the Heaven -- below --Will fail of it above --
|
|
|
Emily Dickinson |