Poems by Emily Dickinson
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
... 'Twere not appeased of menTill Resurrection, I must guess ...
It was a quiet seeming Day --
... To westward of the Town --But when the Earth began to jar ...
It was a quiet way --
... But Sunrise stopped upon the place ...
It was given to me by the Gods
... They given us Presents most -- you know -- ...
It was not Saint -- it was too large --
... It was not Saint -- it was too large -- ...
It will be Summer -- eventually.
... Their Forefathers -- have hummed --The Wild Rose -- redden in the Bog -- ...
It would have starved a Gnat --
... Or make a Dragon -- move --Not like the Gnat -- had I -- ...
It would never be Common -- more -- I said
... But that old sort -- was done --Or -- if it sometime -- showed -- as 'twill -- ...
It would not know if it were spurned,
... It would not know if it were spurned, ...
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature
... It gains the Block -- and now -- it gains the Door -- ...
It's easy to invent a Life --
... To Spontaneity --The Perished Patterns murmur -- ...
It's like the Light
... The proudest Trees --It's like the Morning -- ...
It's thoughts -- and just One Heart
... For needing more --Flowers -- to keep the Eyes -- from going awkward -- ...
Its Hour with itself
... Could Countenance discloseThe Subterranean Freight ...
Its little Ether Hood
... Of the sagacious God --Till when it slip away ...
