Poems by Emily Dickinson
The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves
... By innocent Surprise --The wrestle in her simple Throat ...
The Products of my Farm are these
... With Us, 'tis Harvest all the Year ...
The Props assist the House
... And slowness -- then the Scaffolds drop ...
The Province of the Saved
... The Science of the GraveNo Man can understand ...
The pungent atom in the Air
... Relinquished our Estate --For what Department of Delight ...
The Rat is the concisest Tenant.
... On Schemes intentBalking our Wit ...
The reticent volcano keeps
... If nature will not tell the tale ...
The Riddle we can guess
... Not anything is stale so long ...
The right to perish might be thought
... The right to perish might be thought ...
The Road was lit with Moon and star --
... The Road was lit with Moon and star -- ...
The Robin for the Crumb
... But long records the Lady's name ...
The Robin is a Gabriel
... A Vista vastly warmer --A small but sturdy Residence ...
The Robin is the One
... When March is scarcely on --The Robin is the One ...
The Robin's my Criterion for Tune
... The Buttercup's, my Whim for Bloom -- ...
The Savior must have been
... For little Fellowmen --The Road to Bethlehem ...
