Poems by Emily Dickinson
More than the Grave is closed to me --
... More than the Grave is closed to me -- ...
Morns like these -- we parted
... I -- from agony --Till -- the evening nearing ...
Musicians wrestle everywhere
... On Time's first Afternoon!Some -- say -- it is "the Spheres" -- at play! ...
My Cocoon tightens -- Colors tease --
... Demeans the Dress I wear --A power of Butterfly must be -- ...
My Heart ran so to thee
... And drew awayFor whatsoe'er my pace ...
My Maker -- let me be
... Enamored most of thee -- ...
My nosegays are for Captives
... To such, if they should whisper ...
My Soul -- accused me -- And I quailed --
... My Soul -- that Morning -- was My friend --Her favor -- is the best Disdain ...
Never for Society
... But the Man withinNever knew Satiety -- ...
No Life can pompless pass away --
... As that exalted here --How cordial is the mystery! ...
No matter -- now -- Sweet --
... On my Belt -- too --Ermine -- my familiar Gown -- ...
No matter where the Saints abide,
... No matter where the Saints abide, ...
No Notice gave She, but a Change --
... Upon Her Bosom piled --Of shrinking ways -- she did not fright ...
Not that he goes -- we love him more
... Beyond earth's trafficking frontier, ...
Not to discover weakness is
... As much through ConsciousnessOf faith of others in itself ...
