All Poems

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Those not live yet

© Emily Dickinson

Those not live yet
Who doubt to live again --
"Again" is of a twice
But this -- is one --

Those fair -- fictitious People

© Emily Dickinson

Those fair -- fictitious People --
The Women -- plucked away
From our familiar Lifetime --
The Men of Ivory --

Those cattle smaller than a Bee

© Emily Dickinson

Those cattle smaller than a Bee
That herd upon the eye --
Whose tillage is the passing Crumb --
Those Cattle are the Fly --

Tho' my destiny be Fustian

© Emily Dickinson

Tho' my destiny be Fustian --
Hers be damask fine --
Tho' she wear a silver apron --
I, a less divine --

Tho' I get home how late -- how late

© Emily Dickinson

To think just how the fire will burn --
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn --
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me --
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

This that would greet -- an hour ago --

© Emily Dickinson

This that would greet -- an hour ago --
Is quaintest Distance -- now --
Had it a Guest from Paradise --
Nor glow, would it, nor bow --

This slow Day moved along --

© Emily Dickinson

This slow Day moved along --
I heard its axles go
As if they could not hoist themselves
They hated motion so --

This Merit hath the worst --

© Emily Dickinson

This Merit hath the worst --
It cannot be again --
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown Her furthest Stone --

This Me -- that walks and works -- must die,

© Emily Dickinson

This Me -- that walks and works -- must die,
Some fair or stormy Day,
Adversity if it may be
Or wild prosperity

This is the place they hoped before,

© Emily Dickinson

This is the place they hoped before,
Where I am hoping now.
The seed of disappointment grew
Within a capsule gay,

This is a Blossom of the Brain --

© Emily Dickinson

This is a Blossom of the Brain --
A small -- italic Seed
Lodged by Design or Happening
The Spirit fructified --

This Dust, and its Feature --

© Emily Dickinson

This Dust, and its Feature --
Accredited -- Today --
Will in a second Future --
Cease to identify --

This docile one inter

© Emily Dickinson

This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.

This dirty -- little -- Heart

© Emily Dickinson

This dirty -- little -- Heart
Is freely mine.
I won it with a Bun --
A Freckled shrine --

This Consciousness that is aware

This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone

This Bauble was preferred of Bees --

This Bauble was preferred of Bees --
By Butterflies admired
At Heavenly -- Hopeless Distances --
Was justified of Bird --

They won't frown always -- some sweet Day

They won't frown always -- some sweet Day
When I forget to tease --
They'll recollect how cold I looked
And how I just said "Please."

They talk as slow as Legends grow

They talk as slow as Legends grow
No mushroom is their mind
But foliage of sterility
Too stolid for the wind --

They shut me up in Prose --

They shut me up in Prose --
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet --
Because they liked me "still" --

They say that "Time assuages" --

They say that "Time assuages" --
Time never did assuage --
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age --