Poems by Emily Dickinson
They ask but our Delight --
... And grant us all their Countenance ...
They called me to the Window, for
... And Decks -- to seat the skies --This -- too -- the Showman rubbed away -- ...
They have a little Odor -- that to me
... And spiciest at fading -- indicate -- ...
They leave us with the Infinite.
... His fists, the size of men --And whom he foundeth, with his Arm ...
They put Us far apart
... Through Telegraphic Signs --With Dungeons -- They devised -- ...
They say that "Time assuages" --
... As Sinews do, with age --Time is a Test of Trouble -- ...
They shut me up in Prose --
... Because they liked me "still" --Still! Could themself have peeped -- ...
They talk as slow as Legends grow
... Too stolid for the wind --They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit ...
They won't frown always -- some sweet Day
... They won't frown always -- some sweet Day ...
This Bauble was preferred of Bees --
... Was justified of Bird --Did Noon -- enamel -- in Herself ...
This Consciousness that is aware
... And that itself aloneIs traversing the interval ...
This dirty -- little -- Heart
... A Freckled shrine --But eligibly fair ...
This docile one inter
... As dauntless in the House of Death ...
This Dust, and its Feature --
... Comparison -- appear --This World, and its species ...
This is a Blossom of the Brain --
... The Spirit fructified --Shy as the Wind of his Chambers ...
