All Poems

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A narrow Fellow in the Grass

© Emily Dickinson

A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides --
You may have met Him -- did you not
His notice sudden is --

Heart! We will forget him!

© Emily Dickinson

Heart! We will forget him!
You and I -- tonight!
You may forget the warmth he gave --
I will forget the light!

My life closed twice before its close --

© Emily Dickinson

My life closed twice before its close --
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

If I can stop one Heart from breaking

© Emily Dickinson

If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one Pain

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,

I started Early -- Took my Dog --

© Emily Dickinson

I started Early -- Took my Dog --
And visited the Sea --
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me --

Nobody knows this little Rose

© Emily Dickinson

Nobody knows this little Rose --
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.

Because I could not stop for Death

© Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.

I'm Nobody! Who are you?

© Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise -- you know!

There is another sky

© Emily Dickinson

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;

The house where I was born (04)

© Yves Bonnefoy

And voices that cast shadows on the road,
Or called to me, and, my heart beating fast,
I turned around to face the empty road.

The house where I was born (05)

© Yves Bonnefoy

In the same dream
I am lying in the hollow of a boat,
My forehead and eyes against the curved planks
Where I can hear the undercurrents

The house where I was born (10)

© Yves Bonnefoy

And then life; and once again
A house where I was born. Around us
The granary above what once had been a church,
The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds,

The house where I was born (03)

© Yves Bonnefoy

I woke up, it was the house where I was born,
It was night, trees were crowding
On all sides around our door,
I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind,

The house where I was born (06)

I woke up, but I was travelling,
The train had rolled throughout the night,
It was now going toward huge clouds
That were standing, packed together, down there,

The house where I was born (02)

I woke up, it was the house where I was born.
It was raining softly in all the rooms,
I went from one to another, looking at
The water that shone on the mirrors

The house where I was born (09)

And then the day came
When I heard the extraordinary lines in Keats,
The evocation of Ruth when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn.

Passer-By, These Are Words

Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading
I want you to listen: to this frail
Voice like that of letters eaten by grass.

The house where I was born (08)

I open my eyes, yes, its the house where I was born,
Exactly as it was and nothing more.
The same small dining room whose window
Gives onto a peach tree that never grows.

The house where I was born (07)

I have crossed out
These words a hundred times, in verse, in prose,
But I cannot
Stop them from coming back.)