All Poems

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You constituted Time --

© Emily Dickinson

You constituted Time --
I deemed Eternity
A Revelation of Yourself --
'Twas therefore Deity

You cannot take itself

© Emily Dickinson

You cannot take itself
From any Human soul --
That indestructible estate
Enable him to dwell --

You cannot make Remembrance grow

© Emily Dickinson

You cannot make Remembrance grow
When it has lost its Root --
The tightening the Soil around
And setting it upright

Yesterday is History,

© Emily Dickinson

Yesterday is History,
'Tis so far away --
Yesterday is Poetry --
'Tis Philosophy --

Wonder -- is not precisely Knowing

© Emily Dickinson

Wonder -- is not precisely Knowing
And not precisely Knowing not --
A beautiful but bleak condition
He has not lived who has not felt --

Wolfe demanded during dying

© Emily Dickinson

Wolfe demanded during dying
"Which obtain the Day"?
"General, the British" -- "Easy"
Answered Wolfe "to die"

Without this -- there is nought --

© Emily Dickinson

Without this -- there is nought --
All other Riches be
As is the Twitter of a Bird --
Heard opposite the Sea --

Without a smile -- Without a Throe

© Emily Dickinson

Without a smile -- Without a Throe
A Summer's soft Assemblies go
To their entrancing end
Unknown -- for all the times we met --
Estranged, however intimate --
What a dissembling Friend --

Within thy Grave!

© Emily Dickinson

Within thy Grave!
Oh no, but on some other flight --
Thou only camest to mankind
To rend it with Good night --

Within that little Hive

© Emily Dickinson

Within that little Hive
Such Hints of Honey lay
As made Reality a Dream
And Dreams, Reality --

Within my Garden, rides a Bird

© Emily Dickinson

Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel --
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill --

With thee, in the Desert

© Emily Dickinson

With thee, in the Desert --
With thee in the thirst --
With thee in the Tamarind wood --
Leopard breathes -- at last!

With sweetness unabated

© Emily Dickinson

With sweetness unabated
Informed the hour had come
With no remiss of triumph
The autumn started home

With Pinions of Disdain

© Emily Dickinson

With Pinions of Disdain
The soul can farther fly
Than any feather specified
in Ornithology --

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
'Tis early as our Breath
And mourners meet it going out
The moment of our death --

Winter under cultivation

Winter under cultivation
Is as arable as Spring.

Winter is good -- his Hoar Delights

Winter is good -- his Hoar Delights
Italic flavor yield
To Intellects inebriate
With Summer, or the World --

Why should we hurry -- why indeed?

Why should we hurry -- why indeed?
When every way we fly
We are molested equally
By immortality.

Why make it doubt -- it hurts it so

Why make it doubt -- it hurts it so --
So sick -- to guess --
So strong -- to know --
So brave -- upon its little Bed

Whose Pink career may have a close

Whose Pink career may have a close
Portentous as our own, who knows?
To imitate these Neighbors fleet
In awe and innocence, were meet.