All Poems

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I'll send the feather from my Hat!

© Emily Dickinson

I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows -- but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket -- worn by faded Child --
Confronting eyes long -- comforted --
Blisters the Adamant!

I'll clutch -- and clutch

© Emily Dickinson

I'll clutch -- and clutch --
Next -- One -- Might be the golden touch --
Could take it --
Diamonds -- Wait --
I'm diving -- just a little late --
But stars -- go slow -- for night --

I'd rather recollect a setting

© Emily Dickinson

I'd rather recollect a setting
Than own a rising sun
Though one is beautiful forgetting --
And true the other one.

I went to thank Her

© Emily Dickinson

I went to thank Her --
But She Slept --
Her Bed -- a funneled Stone --
With Nosegays at the Head and Foot --
That Travellers -- had thrown --

I watcher her face to see which way

© Emily Dickinson

I watcher her face to see which way
She took the awful news --
Whether she died before she heard
Or in protracted bruise

I watched the Moon around the House

© Emily Dickinson

I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane --
She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest --
And there upon

I was the slightest in the House

© Emily Dickinson

I was the slightest in the House --
I took the smallest Room --
At night, my little Lamp, and Book --
And one Geranium --

I was a Phoebe -- nothing more --

© Emily Dickinson

I was a Phoebe -- nothing more --
A Phoebe -- nothing less --
The little note that others dropt
I fitted into place --

I tried to think a lonelier Thing

© Emily Dickinson

I tried to think a lonelier Thing
Than any I had seen --
Some Polar Expiation -- An Omen in the Bone
Of Death's tremendous nearness --

I took one Draught of Life --

© Emily Dickinson

I took one Draught of Life --
I'll tell you what I paid --
Precisely an existence --
The market price, they said.

I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl

© Emily Dickinson

I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl --
Life's little duties do -- precisely --
As the very least
Were infinite -- to me --

I thought the Train would never come --

© Emily Dickinson

I thought the Train would never come --
How slow the whistle sang --
I don't believe a peevish Bird
So whimpered for the Spring --

I thought that nature was enough

© Emily Dickinson

I thought that nature was enough
Till Human nature came
But that the other did absorb
As Parallax a Flame --

I think to Live -- may be a Bliss

© Emily Dickinson

I think to Live -- may be a Bliss
To those who dare to try --
Beyond my limit to conceive --
My lip -- to testify --

I think the longest Hour of all

I think the longest Hour of all
Is when the Cars have come --
And we are waiting for the Coach --
It seems as though the Time

I think the Hemlock likes to stand

I think the Hemlock likes to stand
Upon a Marge of Snow --
It suits his own Austerity --
And satisfies an awe

I think that the Root of the Wind is Water --

I think that the Root of the Wind is Water --
It would not sound so deep
Were it a Firmamental Product --
Airs no Oceans keep --

I think just how my shape will rise

I think just how my shape will rise --
When I shall be "forgiven" --
Till Hair -- and Eyes -- and timid Head --
Are out of sight -- in Heaven --

I think I was enchanted

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl --
I read that Foreign Lady --
The Dark -- felt beautiful --

I tend my flowers for thee

I tend my flowers for thee --
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia's Coral Seams
Rip -- while the Sower -- dreams --