All Poems

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Oh Future! thou secreted peace

© Emily Dickinson

Oh Future! thou secreted peace
Or subterranean woe --
Is there no wandering route of grace
That leads away from thee --

Of Yellow was the outer Sky

© Emily Dickinson

Of Yellow was the outer Sky
In Yellower Yellow hewn
Till Saffron in Vermilion slid
Whose seam could not be shewn.

Of whom so dear

© Emily Dickinson

Of whom so dear
The name to hear
Illumines with a Glow
As intimate -- as fugitive
As Sunset on the snow --

Of Tribulation, these are They

© Emily Dickinson

Of Tribulation, these are They,
Denoted by the White --
The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Rank
Of Victors -- designate --

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?

© Emily Dickinson

Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
"A Soul has gone to Heaven"
I'm answered in a lonesome tone --
Is Heaven then a Prison?

Of this is Day composed

© Emily Dickinson

Of this is Day composed
A morning and a noon
A Revelry unspeakable
And then a gay unknown

Of their peculiar light

© Emily Dickinson

Of their peculiar light
I keep one ray
To clarify the Sight
To seek them by --

Of the Heart that goes in, and closes the Door

© Emily Dickinson

Of the Heart that goes in, and closes the Door
Shall the Playfellow Heart complain
Though the Ring is unwhole, and the Company broke
Can never be fitted again?

Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe

© Emily Dickinson

Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe
A Traitor is the Bee
His service to the newest Grace
Present continually

Of Paul and Silas it is said

© Emily Dickinson

Of Paul and Silas it is said
There were in Prison laid
But when they went to take them out
They were not there instead.

Of Paradise' existence

© Emily Dickinson

Of Paradise' existence
All we know
Is the uncertain certainty --
But its vicinity infer,
By its Bisecting
Messenger --

Of nearness to her sundered Things

© Emily Dickinson

Of nearness to her sundered Things
The Soul has special times --
When Dimness -- looks the Oddity --
Distinctness -- easy -- seems --

Of Nature I shall have enough

© Emily Dickinson

Of Nature I shall have enough
When I have entered these
Entitled to a Bumble bee's
Familiarities.

Of Life to own --

© Emily Dickinson

Of Life to own --
From Life to draw --
But never tough the reservoir --

Of God we ask one favor,

Of God we ask one favor,
That we may be forgiven --
For what, he is presumed to know --
The Crime, from us, is hidden --

Of Glory not a Beam is left

Of Glory not a Beam is left
But her Eternal House --
The Asterisk is for the Dead,
The Living, for the Stars --

Of Death I try to think like this --

Of Death I try to think like this --
The Well in which they lay us
Is but the Likeness of the Brook
That menaced not to slay us,

Of Brussels -- it was not --

Of Brussels -- it was not --
Of Kidderminster? Nay --
The Winds did buy it of the Woods --
They -- sold it unto me

Of Bronze -- and Blaze

My Splendors, are Menagerie --
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass --
Whom none but Beetles -- know.

Of Being is a Bird

Of Being is a Bird
The likest to the Down
An Easy Breeze do put afloat
The General Heavens -- upon --