All Poems
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It's coming -- the postponeless Creature
© Emily Dickinson
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature --
It gains the Block -- and now -- it gains the Door --
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings --
Enters -- with a "You know Me -- Sir"?
It would not know if it were spurned,
© Emily Dickinson
It would not know if it were spurned,
This gallant little flower --
How therefore safe to be a flower
If one would tamper there.
It would never be Common -- more -- I said
© Emily Dickinson
It would never be Common -- more -- I said --
Difference -- had begun --
Many a bitterness -- had been --
But that old sort -- was done --
It would have starved a Gnat --
© Emily Dickinson
It would have starved a Gnat --
To live so small as I --
And yet I was a living Child --
With Food's necessity
It will be Summer -- eventually.
© Emily Dickinson
It will be Summer -- eventually.
Ladies -- with parasols --
Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes --
And little Girls -- with Dolls --
It was not Saint -- it was too large --
© Emily Dickinson
It was not Saint -- it was too large --
Nor Snow -- it was too small --
It only held itself aloof
Like something spiritual --
It was given to me by the Gods
© Emily Dickinson
It was given to me by the Gods --
When I was a little Girl --
They given us Presents most -- you know --
When we are new -- and small.
It was a quiet way --
© Emily Dickinson
It was a quiet way --
He asked if I was his --
I made no answer of the Tongue
But answer of the Eyes --
It was a quiet seeming Day --
© Emily Dickinson
It was a quiet seeming Day --
There was no harm in earth or sky --
Till with the closing sun
There strayed an accidental Red
A Strolling Hue, one would have said
To westward of the Town --
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
© Emily Dickinson
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
Enclosed 'twas not of Rail
A Consciousness its Acre, and
It held a Human Soul.
It troubled me as once I was --
© Emily Dickinson
It troubled me as once I was --
For I was once a Child --
Concluding how an Atom -- fell --
And yet the Heavens -- held --
It tossed -- and tossed --
© Emily Dickinson
It tossed -- and tossed --
A little Brig I knew -- o'ertook by Blast --
It spun -- and spun --
And groped delirious, for Morn --
It struck me -- every Day
© Emily Dickinson
It struck me -- every Day --
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through --
It stole along so stealthy
© Emily Dickinson
It stole along so stealthy
Suspicion it was done
Was dim as to the wealthy
Beginning not to own --
It sounded as if the Streets were running
© Emily Dickinson
It sounded as if the Streets were running
And then -- the Streets stood still --
Eclipse -- was all we could see at the Window
And Awe -- was all we could feel.
It rises -- passes -- on our South
© Emily Dickinson
It rises -- passes -- on our South
Inscribes a simple Noon --
Cajoles a Moment with the Spires
And infinite is gone --
It makes no difference abroad --
© Emily Dickinson
It makes no difference abroad --
The Seasons -- fit -- the same --
The Mornings blossom into Noons --
And split their Pods of Flame --
It knew no Medicine --
© Emily Dickinson
It knew no Medicine --
It was not Sickness -- then --
Nor any need of Surgery --
And therefore -- 'twas not Pain --
It is an honorable Thought
© Emily Dickinson
It is an honorable Thought
And make One lift One's Hat
As One met sudden Gentlefolk
Upon a daily Street
It is a lonesome Glee --
© Emily Dickinson
It is a lonesome Glee --
Yet sanctifies the Mind --
With fair association --
Afar upon the Wind
