All Poems
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A Mien to move a Queen
© Emily Dickinson
A Voice that Alters -- Low
And on the Ear can go
Like Let of Snow --
Or shift supreme --
As tone of Realm
On Subjects Diadem --
A Man may make a Remark --
© Emily Dickinson
A Man may make a Remark --
In itself -- a quiet thing
That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark
In dormant nature -- lain --
A loss of something ever felt I --
© Emily Dickinson
A loss of something ever felt I --
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was -- of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect
A little Road -- not made of Man --
© Emily Dickinson
A little Road -- not made of Man --
Enabled of the Eye --
Accessible to Thill of Bee --
Or Cart of Butterfly --
A little overflowing word
© Emily Dickinson
A little overflowing word
That any, hearing, had inferred
For Ardor or for Tears,
Though Generations pass away,
Traditions ripen and decay,
As eloquent appears --
A little Dog that wags his tail
© Emily Dickinson
A little Dog that wags his tail
And knows no other joy
Of such a little Dog am I
Reminded by a Boy
A little bread -- a crust -- a crumb
© Emily Dickinson
A little bread -- a crust -- a crumb --
A little trust -- a demijohn --
Can keep the soul alive --
Not portly, mind! but breathing -- warm --
Conscious -- as old Napoleon,
The night before the Crown!
A Letter is a joy of Earth --
© Emily Dickinson
A Letter is a joy of Earth --
It is denied the Gods --
A lane of Yellow led the eye
© Emily Dickinson
A lane of Yellow led the eye
Unto a Purple Wood
Whose soft inhabitants to be
Surpasses solitude
A House upon the Height
© Emily Dickinson
A House upon the Height --
That Wagon never reached --
No Dead, were ever carried down --
No Peddler's Cart -- approached --
A full fed Rose on meals of Tint
© Emily Dickinson
A full fed Rose on meals of Tint
A Dinner for a Bee
In process of the Noon became -
Each bright Mortality
A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot,
© Emily Dickinson
A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot,
And yet if you compare the Lasts,
Hers is the smallest Boot --
A first Mute Coming --
© Emily Dickinson
A first Mute Coming --
In the Stranger's House --
A first fair Going --
When the Bells rejoice --
A Field of Stubble, lying sere
© Emily Dickinson
A Field of Stubble, lying sere
Beneath the second Sun --
Its Toils to Brindled People thrust --
Its Triumphs -- to the Bin --
A feather from the Whippoorwill
© Emily Dickinson
A feather from the Whippoorwill
That everlasting -- sings!
Whose galleries -- are Sunrise --
Whose Opera -- the Springs --
A faded Boy -- in sallow Clothes
© Emily Dickinson
A faded Boy -- in sallow Clothes
Who drove a lonesome Cow
To pastures of Oblivion --
A statesman's Embryo --
A face devoid of love or grace,
© Emily Dickinson
A face devoid of love or grace,
A hateful, hard, successful face,
A face with which a stone
Would feel as thoroughly at ease
As were they old acquaintances --
First time together thrown.
A Dying Tiger -- moaned for Drink --
© Emily Dickinson
A Dying Tiger -- moaned for Drink --
I hunted all the Sand --
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand --
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork
© Emily Dickinson
A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork
Without a Revery --
And so encountering a Fly
This January Day
A doubt if it be Us
© Emily Dickinson
A doubt if it be Us
Assists the staggering Mind
In an extremer Anguish
Until it footing find.
